#that's like the first chunk of the unsettling part. that i could see myself falling for it

[falle-ness]

Hm. It's probably a mean thing to say... Okay, rewind that. First, I don't hate Cath. I came to realize (thanks to another poorly executed female character on another show I spent quite a chunk of my life on) that if I want to be a good writer (no ambition here, just for myself), I have to be objective and try to understand the characters. Even if they or their actions aren't my thing at all or make me wanna BBQ them with the C4.

Pitchforks steady, folks—I used to ship mcrollins back in the day (could do both, mcdanno and this), but I do hate how she treated Steve and how writers clearly didn't know what to do with her because when rewatching it's obvious she's the third wheel; and anyway, the more it went, it felt like "let's add something to their relationship because we need DRAMA".

Leaving the NAVY and Billy's death, from a writer's point seems great—just as in life, things keep falling on you, and you crumble. I also don't hold it against Michelle Borth—she worked with what was available, and as an actress, she delivered.

But what was unsettling for me—and I think that probably was the unnecessary DRAMA part given how more or less balances their relationship was (watching two adult people being happy and working out their issues is boring so the writers stir the pot)—why on earth Cath’s grief resembles losing someone she never stopped loving despite constant "he's my ex"? I understand that she's probably drowning under the tide of emotions after his death and leaving the navy but... Honestly, I don't vibe with this melodrama. It feels flat and strained—not actor's fault, but the setup. It was what, a couple of eps? The writers could have achieved much more with "a soldier without a purpose" tbh.

Alex’s acting, actually, corroborates Cath's revived feels for Billy—you can notice his silent "You still love him, don't you?" in his eyes each time they share a scene, and he never brings it up because he's afraid—or knows—the answer. But it's there every time, in every scene they share.

Which begs the question—why woud writers do that?

Leaving the NAVY, and, for example, just working with Billy could create far more tension between Cath and Steve, and it'd be far more productive for the plot. Or, "soldier without the purpose" mentioned before. Because now it seems—I apologize for the bluntness of this, you're welcome to argue—Cath is choosing the dead guy over the very much alive guy, and I see it as she only used Steve to forget Billy, and then their ways parted, so she stayed with Steve.

Also, another per peeve of mine is that in earlier seasons Cath and Steve looked more like friends with benefits and were comfortable with it. I'd prefer them that way or tight friends with occasional tension but since they weren't each other's type, it wouldn't work out.

We know love has many facets, yeah. But if anyone can remind me, did Steve actually tell Cath once with the same ease like he does to Danny that he loves her?

I'm open to discussion. Because I really felt uncomfortable during those couple of eps and looking Steve tormenting himself (he blames himself of course because if he hadn't let her have that job, maybe things would be different).

#h50 #steve mcgarrett #catherine rollins #anti mcrollins

[fictional-worlds-are-exquisite]

ok i know i’m late to the party but in my defence i was busy when it got popular

but i just watched the first episode of squid game and i actually feel sick like props to the show for managing to evoke that feeling i’ll give it that i’m gonna need to pace these i think

#squid game #i guess it's cause it feels so relatable #in the sense that i can understand the spiral down to that point #and that's scary i guess #but then i can also understand the getting there and being like bro i was just drugged and taken to an unknown location #while still being like but going back i'm still fucked #that's like the first chunk of the unsettling part. that i could see myself falling for it #like if someone were to come up to me tomorrow w/ the game thing no i'd never #BUT under the right circumstances??? i could spiral into justifying myself doing that definitely #i had a recent experience w/ a scam job that's providing a lil too much evidence for that #THE SECOND part was the one scene specifically where gi-hun makes the choice not to help the guy who's been shot #like the mass murder of probably 100+ contestants at the start was bad sure but i'm a lil desensitised to that in film tbh #and i'm not saying i expected him to somehow save the guy obviously that's unrealistic but idk that's the point where like #you make a choice then to leave someone to die and save yourself #UNDERSTANDABLE SURE but no less horrific #i guess they captured it fantastically really putting me in the shoes which is why it actually drew a reaction from me #i think that's why the whole thing was so effective really it's the way it connected to me #VERY effective actually made me feel things #anyway #i'm gonna go watch something light before bed lmao. that was a lot #also somehow i've managed to avoid pretty much all content about squid game. the only things i know about squid game is bc i played crab gam #don't ask me HOW i managed to avoid spoilers and opinions and content entirely but i did. like i said. i was busy #so idk the reception of this at all or any views or what's happening here i just know it got popular lmao

[ghost-at-the-masquerade]

The Little Things

Rating: PG, for talk of preparing an animal carcass

Count: 1856

Summary: Link has dinner with a stranger out on the road

A/N: Yes, I’m going to make Link use they/them pronouns, no I don’t take criticism on this, don’t @ me

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

The smell of blood still wafted toward the camp, from where they had let the deer drain. They started at the collarbone, slicing all the way down to the groin, then up the inside of each of the legs. Someone could always use more leather, so they wanted to keep the hide well intact.

Sitting across from Link on a tree downed long ago, Stemm - a traveling chef, by his own description - started to peel carrots and potatoes. The skins he let fall among the grass, the clean vegetables he dropped into a large stockpot to wait. It was much too soon, but he needed something to do.

When Link went to wipe the sweat from their forehead with the back of their arm, they left a little smear of blood that caught a lock of hair and matted it to their eyebrow. The sight of it had Stemm’s face twisting into the most polite agony he could manage.

The time came to split open its belly and he excused himself to stoke and adjust the fires - meat and organs did better in different temperatures at different times, he said.

Link twisted around to grab another, larger pot to drop the more palatable organs in, and the rest were given back to the earth, that Farore may put them to better use.

Their boots were soiled as they worked to separate the carcass into manageable cuts, the better part of an hour drifting by them as they were engrossed in the work. Every now and again their gaze flicked over to Stemm, tutting around the camp proper. Always seeming to produce more cookware and utensils and little bottles of spices from his pack. He had a rather fine set of glass bottles he kept water in, too - as well as some spirit that stank all to hell. Highly impractical for travel compared to a waterskin, but lovely nonetheless. A pair of the ones filled with water were sitting in a half-rotted bucket with a pilfered ice rod.

They piled the meat onto a spare sheet of leather they had so they could haul it all the few feet to the fire, hefting it over the log with a grunt.

Stemm spared them a smile for all of their work. “Thank you, yes, it’ll be fine there.”

He took the opportunity to go on while they paused to take a breath, “It makes me feel like such a fraud, not doing all my own prep, but butchering is just… such ugly work.”

Link couldn’t help but cock the bloody eyebrow at him. The lock of hair came loose with the movement.

“Don’t look at me like that - it’s not that I had some… pampered upbringing, my parents did their own hunting when I was young. We just moved to a bigger town before it was my time to learn. And if someone has already prepared the meat for you, well…”

They wondered, at times, if people in their previous life had spilled their guts to them like this. Their silence left a lot of room for it.

“I suppose I was so excited to travel and to do it all myself that I didn’t think about what ‘doing it all myself’ would entail.”

Link’s expression softened some. They could sympathize with being in over one’s head.

“… What are you waiting around for? I can handle this part, you wash up.” He shooed them with one hand, pulling the meat toward himself with the other.

They huffed through their nose at his tone, but they didn’t need to be told twice.

-

Twilight’s somber blanket settled over the grass, made the soft sands twinkle as Link stepped into the shallow waters. Going in almost up to their knees, they found a rock to settle on, dipping their arms into the cool river flow and scrubbing the deer’s blood free from their arms and boots. Blood dried on skin is rather like the first layer of paint on raw wood, thin and clinging seamlessly.

Pulling back, droplets on their skin became flecks of gold in the dying light. They reached into a pouch at their hip for a bar of soap and comb. The bar was only about the length of their palm and a third of the width, off-white in color - not unlike honey diluted in milk. They rubbed a conservative lather into their palm; it would be some time before they returned to Hateno for more, but they wanted the copper smell off their hands. They only just remembered the smear on their face before rinsing off.

The comb was simple, a chunk of birch wood carved and left unfinished, but with much thicker teeth than their last one. Hair tie held between their lips, they dipped the comb into the river, closed their eyes and began to run it through their hair. Their ears twitched with every rustle of the trees behind them.

Clean and calmed, they took a deep breath and rose to return to camp.

-

Stemm greeted them heartily, in much higher spirits now that he was in his element. He already had several pounds of meat salted and packed into leather satchels, while another had been cubed for their supper.

Link took their seat at an angle to him, not quite next to him. Stemm was proving to be quite the multi-tasker around the cook pot, moving seamlessly between preserving the meat and prodding the chunk of fat he had rendering out in the bottom of the pot. It had been strung up by a chain, held aloft by three metal rods - an incredibly handy contraption, Link would have to see about finding one.

At each step, Stemm explained how staggering each ingredient’s addition would change their texture and flavor. Link sipped their chilled water and decided to keep their disagreements about what the texture should be to themself; they could deal with mushy onions in their stew for one night.

With everything coming together, he whipped out a smaller wooden spoon, took a taste and pursed his lips, looking up to the sky. “I wish I had a little sweetness to take that edge off, but I’ve just run out…”

Link’s ear twitched with a thought, and they dipped their fingers into another one of their hip pouches. From it they drew a flower, not unlike the Silent Princess, but half the size and without its luminescent qualities. They held it up as a suggestion, “Maybe this?”

“That?” Stemm leaned close to scrutinize the flower, “No, I’m afraid those are quite bitter.”

They shook their head and insisted, “Cousin of the star flower. Breeding out the glow takes out the bitterness.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Usually, yes, but they’ve been moving back that way for a while. Have you been under a rock?”

Rather than argue the point further, they popped the flower in their mouth - only to immediately stick out their tongue and let the mushed petals fall off.

Stemm laughed victoriously. “I told you!”

With their eyes unfocused on the grass, something deep within them wavered, but only momentarily. It was too silly a thing to unsettle them. Even if it was one of the few things they thought they remembered.

“The one thing I was prepared for was finding tasty plants!” He glanced again toward the dying light while digging something out of his bag.

“Don’t know how much you can do by firelight, but here-” He held out a small, leather-bound notebook, “You can copy this.”

It was soft in their hands, telling of its relative youth. The cover crackled quietly as they opened it. The pages detailed a number of edible wild plants native to central Hyrule and Necluda, including flavor profiles and notable lookalikes.

Link set it on their knee so they could sign, “Thank you, but, I don’t have anything to copy to.”

For a moment he seemed surprised. Then he shrugged, a relaxed smile crossing his face. “Keep that one, then. I can make another.”

Their mouth worked and they struggled to make the sign feel sincere enough, “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it. It won’t do me much good when I head out to Akkala, anyway.”

With that reassurance they relaxed some, settling in to skim the notes while he finished.

The sun ducked away behind the far trees and its last light vanished, turning the camp into a bright bubble in a dark ocean.

Turned out Stemm was right about it needing a bit of sweet, but it was far from inedible. Link was more than glad to take a second helping. Simple, but warm and filling. He was definitely still wrong about onions, but the potato was good.

Stemm had no stories to tell and his sign wasn’t strong enough to keep up with Link’s, so the night air was left to the crickets, crackling of fire and the tittering of breeze through the grass and leaves. In time, they agreed to part in sleep.

Link settled down into the embrace of a nearby elm. Stemm stayed closer to the fire, with his sizable pack to prop him up. Firelight faded, gave way to the silver grace of the moon, orange glowing embers not unlike the shrines waiting for them in the distance.

——

Link woke at first light. Hummed deep in their throat and stretched, scratched their shoulder against the bark before even bothering to open their eyes. They could already feel the knot that had formed in their hair.

Sitting up, they saw Stemm still asleep, his mouth dangerously open to the sky. They shook their head, starting to fix their hair when they noticed a small line of leaves laid parallel on their thigh - korok mischief. A little smile tugged at the corner of their mouth. They carefully stacked the leaves and tucked them away in a pocket.

It was time to go - their deal was done and a number of important tasks awaited them. Link stood and took a final stretch. But still, they looked over to their companion. He had done them an extra kindness.

Stemm’s rig was still set up - perhaps they could make use of it. Link knelt with a bit of bounce, considering the remnants of the fire.

They reached into the depths of a pouch and grasped the handle of a short sword - though not short enough to keep them from having to bend over at a funny angle to get it out, falling onto their hip. Exposed to the open air, the blade flared to life with eerily silent fire. A bit of tinder, another log and the tip of the blade was all that was needed. A little extra kindness, then they would go.

Three eggs scrambled into fine curds, peppered with fresh herbs and salt flakes, gently folded over on itself with a wooden spoon. A hopefully respectable omelet they set nearby under a korok leaf.

Link put their hands on their hips and regarded a man they would likely not see again, one more time. The Dueling Peaks loomed. The sun crept higher. And strangers parted.

#The Legend of Zelda #Breath of the Wild #BotW #BotW fic

[amelialincoln]

sentence prompt “i’m gonna throw up” said by amelia

if you ever see this thx!

“You ready?” Amelia called into the living room, her mouth full of apples. “Do you want me to grab you something for the road?”

“I’m good,” Link replied as he entered the kitchen.

“You’re nervous,” She stated, eyeing his unsettled demeanor.

“Am not.” He looked up at her with a teasing grin before swallowing worriedly. “Should I be?”

Amelia laughed, tossing him a protein bar. “You’ll be fine. The lecture rooms are always packed for me since I operated on Nicole. I doubt anyone will show up to yours,” she teased.

“It’s mandatory for interns and residents,” he grumbled, taking a bite out of the protein bar. “This whole presentation thing is dumb. If I was an intern or resident I wouldn’t want to sit through a presentation given by every attending in the hospital.” “Not every attending,” Amelia corrected with a smile.

“I don’t know how you got out of this!” Link’s exasperated tone made her laugh.

“I’ve done my time presenting. I have actual surgeries to perform.” She grinned at him jokingly before grabbing the car keys and turning the knob to their apartment.

“Babe?”

“Yeah?” Amelia turned to find him holding a small syringe with a sympathetic smile and groaned.

She felt bad for missing Link’s presentation, which had apparently gone well. He was grinning from ear to ear when he sat down at the table for lunch.

“Someone’s happy.”

“It went well,” he stated, his face flushed with pride. “Since Nico left I need more residents interested in ortho.”

“I have mine this afternoon.” Alex chimed in, biting into his sandwich with resentment. “Bailey finally forced me to do one. I could be doing a pancreatectomy with Mer today instead but no.”

“Just skip it, I doubt anyone will care.” Meredith shrugged, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she jots something down in a notebook.

“It’s not like you’ll be missing me,” Alex grinned. “You get to operate with your boyfriend now.”

“Alex.” Meredith warned, glancing up from what she was studying. “We’re not in highschool.”

“Then stop acting like it. You can’t keep your hands off eachoth--”

“That’s it I’m leaving.” She packs up her notes, trying to keep a smile off her face.

“Tell Cormac I say hi,” Alex calls, using his first name for extra impact. Meredith glares at him.

“Alex,” Jo scolds, grabbing a piece of his sandwich and popping it into her mouth. “Stop being a dick.

“She’s happy,” he grins. “She likes him.”

Jo lets out an exasperated sigh and rolls her eyes. “Are you guys watching any of the presentations today?” Amelia and Link both shook their heads. “I didn’t plan on it but the rest of my day is free so I wouldn’t mind,” Amelia shrugs.

“I’m not operating until tonight,” Link agrees. “Do you know who’s presenting?” “Other than this idiot?” Jo teases. Alex throws bits of food in Jo’s direction. “You’re a child.”

“Am not,” Alex huffs.

“I know Carina’s in a half hour and Koracick is later tonight. Other than that I’m not sure,” Jo answers.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing Carina’s, she usually has something interesting going on,” Link offers.

“Oh really?” Amelia taunts.

“You shouldn’t be the one to talk,” Alex coughs, receiving a glare from Amelia and a confused look from Link. “Sorry, I’m leaving,” He chuckles.

“Hey,” Jo greeted Amelia and Link as she and Alex took seats beside them. Carina was setting up her computer and the room was buzzing with interns and residents. “Not a lot of navy scrubs.”

“Nope,” Amelia shrugged. “I guess everyone else actually has stuff to do.”

“This is stuff,” Link argued. “We’re educating ourselves.” “Right,” Alex nodded sarcastically. “You guys wake me up when it's my turn.”

“Where’s your laptop?” Jo inquired.

“I’m taking the improvisation route,” he replied. “Hey, the interns love me.” He justified himself to Jo’s unimpressed expression. The lights dimmed and the buzz in the auditorium began to subside. Carina clicked her remote and the screen turned on. Amelia let out a tiny gasp of surprise and her hand suddenly gripped Link’s leg.

“Hey, babe,” Link whispered. “What’s up?” He turned to find her staring frozen at the screen.

“Today I’m going to be talking about anencephaly in infants and how an earlier diagnosis of this birth defect can be achieved.” Carina stated proudly. Amelia couldn’t tear her eyes away from the screen. Every part of her wanted to cover her ears and block out what Carina was saying but she couldn’t. Instead she stayed frozen in her seat. She could feel Alex’s eyes on her. She knew if she turned to him he’d have that sick sympathetic look on his face that everyone she’d ever told about Christopher had given her. The auditorium was suddenly a hospital room and in her arms was a rounded, warm blanket. Little squeaks filled her ears, the same ones that had replayed in her mind a million times.

“Amelia?” Link’s hushed, worried voice brought her back to reality. He brushed his fingers over hers and she looked down to see her knuckles white, gripping into his thigh.

“I’m sorry, I…” she trailed off. Link could see panic in her eyes. Then something changed and she rocked forward slightly. “I’m going to throw up.” She pushed past Jo and Alex and quietly exited the auditorium. She barely made it to a waste bin before her entire breakfast spilled out. She felt Link’s hands pull back her hair as she spat the last couple of chunks into the bin, cringing at the acidic taste.

“Is she okay?” Jo’s voice entered the hallway.

“Jo,” Alex pulled back his girlfriend who’d followed the two surgeons out of the auditorium. “Don’t draw attention.”

“She’s sick, Alex.”

“She’ll be okay,” he winced as he took in Amelia’s panicked state. “Just give her space.” He tugged Jo back into the lecture room.

“Mia, talk to me,” Link pleaded before glancing at her abdomen. “Do you think you’re having morning sickness?” “I think I’m having a panic attack,” Amelia admitted through gasping, shaky breaths.

“Oh.” Link’s eyes flew open. “Come with me.” He guided her into and on call room before wrapping his arms around her and coaxing her into breathing regularly. “Feeling better?” “Mhmm,” Amelia replied shakily, trying not to spill the cup of water that Link had passed her. He helped her take two large gulps and then placed the cup on the ground.

“Lie down,” He ordered, wrapping her in the bed’s duvet. “You’re freezing.” Amelia nodded and curled up into the covers, relaxing into Link’s protective grasp. “Are you okay?” He finally allowed himself to show emotion and Amelia was surprised by the pain in his voice.

“Yeah.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” she confessed. “Can you just lie with me for a bit?”

“Of course,” he sighed, placing a careful kiss on her forehead and wrapping his arms around his trembling wife. “I love you.” “I love you too.”

Amelia awoke to the light peeking through the blinds of the on call room. Link lay soundlessly beside her, his brow furrowed in concern even in his sleep. “Link.” She shook him awake. “Your surgery.” “It got pushed,” he groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Come here babe.” He opened his arms wide and allowed Amelia to cuddle up to him.

“I had a baby,” Amelia stated.

Link’s eyes opened in confusion. “Pardon?”

“When I lived in LA.”

“With Addison and Charlotte?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “My fiancé,” she started, ignoring Link’s uncomfort, “the one who died. It was his baby.” She wasn’t sure why she was telling him this. “Anyways, I didn’t want to get a scan cause I was high for the first month of my pregnancy. I thought there was no way that I could be carrying a healthy baby.” Her voice filled with pain as she continued. “And I was right because I found out five months in that my baby had no brain.”

“Anencephalic.”

“Yeah,” she swallowed back a sob. “And um, I was five months so I couldn’t really do anything about it at that point.”

“Oh Mia…”

“So I had the baby, Christopher, and he lived for forty three minutes and he was beautiful.” Tears were running down her face. “So I think that’s part of the reason why this IVF thing has been really hard. Cause I’m worried that even if I do get pregnant there’s going to be something wrong.”

“Amelia the chances of that happening again are so low.”

“But not zero,” She wiped her nose on her scrub top. “It’s just been a lot, Link.”

“If I’d known--”

“I didn’t want you to coddle me.” She turned to look at him. “And for you to give me the exact look you’re giving me right now. The look that everyone gives me when I tell them.”

Link looked away, “I’m sorry.” He brushed away a couple tears of his own, cursing under his breath that he should be stronger for her. “I don’t want you to feel like you can’t tell me things. I want to be there for you no matter what. Nothing you could tell me is going to make me think that you are any less strong or capable than I know you are.”

“I think I might be, Link.” She finally admits, feeling the weight she’d been carrying for the last couple of days lifting off her chest. “I haven’t taken a test but the last couple of days have felt different.” She couldn’t meet his gaze. “I’ve also been craving pepperoni which is the only thing I felt like eating when I was pregnant with Christopher.”

“Amelia.” Link was speechless.

“Link, if anything is wrong with our baby I won’t be able to forgive myself.”

“You won’t have to,” he puts simply. Suddenly he’s smiling and tears are falling down his cheeks. “We’re going to have a baby?”

“Possibly,” she nods, laughing as he throws his arms around her. “Careful.”

“Sorry, sorry!” He exclaims before pressing a feather light hand to Amelia’s stomach in awe.

“Link, baby steps.” Amelia winces.

“You’re kidding,” Link groans, before meeting Amelia’s worried blue eyes. “This is good?” He confirms.

“We need to get past the first trimester and then we can call it good,” she replies lightheartedly.

“You’re gonna have a baby bump,” he practically sings. “You’re gonna have my baby in your belly.”

“About that.” She bites her lip. Link looks up at her with shock. “I’m kidding!” She laughs.

“I hope he has my humour,” Link growls, mocking a hurt expression.

“He?” Amelia questioned.

Link nodded, “We’ve already agreed.” “We?”

“Me and baby,” Link explains.

“I still need to take a test.” Amelia shakes her head in amusement. Link was already running out the door. The test, taken in the attending lounge’s washroom, confirmed Amelia’s suspicion. Suddenly they were both crying and Link was wrapping his arms around her, taking extra special precaution around her midsection.

“I love you so much,” he kept whispering into her hair.

“I love you too,” Amelia whispered, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that a baby was growing inside of her for the second time.

#amelink #amelink fanfiction #amelia shepherd #amelink fanfic #Atticus Lincoln #greysanatomy #Meredith Grey #jo wilson #alex karev #jolex

[neonoddeye]

After Hours

A story inspired by liminal spaces

Hi there! This is my first short story in a while, so I hope you like it! Feel free to tell me what you think in the comments, I’m more than happy to listen :)

TW: Emetophobia

7:55. Five more minutes. I can do this

       I attempt to reassure myself as I stare languidly into the plastic clock. I have five more minutes until I have to close; doing so alone is a problem in itself, but the atmosphere of the children’s party center becomes all the more sinister once unaccompanied. My eyes shift to my shoes, focusing on the uncomfortably sticky tiles and the confetti that has become permanently stuck to the floor from one too many events. Just then, I’m pulled into reality by loud shouts of “happy birthday!”, with goodbyes and wails of children following suit. I straighten up, telling myself to appear lively as I thank the guests for coming.

8:00pm

       My footsteps feel heavy as I guide myself to the back of the establishment, the thick scent of plastic suffocating my nostrils. I can see the main room in my direct line of vision now, sending jolts of adrenaline through my nerves. I’ve been here many times before as a child; it seemed all too normal to me then. As an adult, it fills me with a concoction of nostalgia and detachment, almost disgust. It’s hard to put my finger on the exact feeling, like waking up from a nightmare and having to remind yourself that you’re real, that those events in your mind didn’t harm you. Nonetheless, it’s a sickening, overwhelming feeling. I resist the urge to turn around, shut the door behind me, and find peace in my car, but I persist. I’m not a fucking wimp, there’s nothing wrong with this place, stop imagining shit and get your job done.

8:05pm

       I begin to clean up after the party, hands shaking with the anticipation of leaving as I pick up dirty paper plates and child-sized party hats. I attempt to zero-in on the task at hand, but to no avail; the room is incredibly silent, and I can’t help but notice each and every sound around me, from my own movements to the roar of the vent above me. Once I finish up cleaning the area around me, I head to the back. 

8:20pm

       I nearly break into a sprint as I round the corner to the looming figure of the central bouncy castle, almost forgetting where the plug is so I can collapse the final inflated structure. I’ve done the three smaller ones, each one adding to the adrenaline coursing in my veins. I’m so damn close to being done, I remind myself, I need to get a grip. Just as I grasp the plug on the back of the castle, I hear a noise that nearly manages to make me drop to my knees. It’s a screech, but not a loud one; it’s breathy, and comes out in a whisper tone, and I notice its origin as the center of the bouncy castle. Is there a fucking kid here? Why the fuck didn’t they say anything earlier? I become dizzy with fear, slowly bringing my shaking legs to step towards the front of the castle and moving my weak hands to open the flap. I don’t even have a chance to crawl in before I vomit at the creature in front of me. I can’t even scream; my body is taken over by disgust in every form, and all I can let myself do is expel it. The monster before me is nearly twice my size, but is on all fours in the middle of the castle. Its face is that of a doll, except both of its eyes have been gouged out, leaving it with empty porcelain sockets. There is a chunk of its frontal lobe completely missing. It has a long, shiny neck, with parts of its “skin” missing and leaving holes in its absence. Its torso does not match its upper half, and is entirely metal, almost sharing shape with a toy horse. The metal is heavily rusting, covering the creature in patches of brown. The monster is barely supported by its two functioning legs, and seems unstable on the two that are missing feet, with stubs of jumbled metal scrap replacing them. The presence of the thing is enough to make me topple over, nearly falling in my own vomit. I don’t think I’m going to escape this place tonight.

8:27pm

       “What the hell… what the fuck are you?” I sputter out weakly, yelling out the curse with all the strength I have in me. 

       “I am the amalgamation of unsettling feelings harbored by those who are not children. The people that do not belong here.” It responds in a mechanical voice, gritting against my ears like a fork scraping against metal. The noise makes me break into a sweat, black spots forming around my eyes. I struggle to hold myself up.

       “I-I didn’t mean to disturb you,” I reply, averting my eyes to my shaking hands resting on the plastic of the castle. “I’m just doing my job. I’ll leave now.” I attempt to stand upright and drag myself out, but I can’t move. It feels as if all the strength in me has been sucked out of my veins from a plastic straw. I begin to accept my fate, looking up once again at the creature before me. 

       “Now that you have seen me,” the monster mused, “you must come with me. I will have you atone for your actions.” I begin sobbing, slowly bringing my face to my hands. Even if I live past this somehow, I don’t know if I could live with the knowledge that this monster exists. I’d lock myself up indefinitely; no one’s brain could handle this, nonetheless my own. My sobs become so violent that I vomit again, except nothing comes out of me. I’m dehydrated and exhausted. I hear the creaking of metal, knowing it as the monster edging towards me. I don’t attempt to move away; even if I wanted to, I can’t move away. It feels as if my body were adorned with weights and shackles. I feel metal grab onto my arm, the rust drawing blood. I scream, and the energy I expel becomes the last that I have. I’m dragged by my arm to the middle of the nylon castle. The creature forces my head up with its appendage, and I’m met with a swirl of smoke and light before me. It widens and opens, swirling bigger and bigger until it’s bigger than the upper half of my body. I can’t bring myself to scream any longer. I hear a chorus of laughter in my ears, enveloping me with nausea and pain and more hopelessness than I have ever felt in my life.

       “You won’t die here,” the monster says into my ear, “but you will not escape for a while.” That’s the last thing I hear before I’m thrust headfirst into the swirling portal.

3:33am

       I don’t feel anything. I’m falling endlessly into a pit of swirling smoke, purple and white clouding my vision. I have given up all will to live. Please, God, just let me die here. I don't want to see what comes after this. A few minutes pass, and I can see an opening beneath my feet.

       To my dismay, it’s the same nylon castle I exited from, except it’s the top of the structure rather than the bottom. It hits me that I’m falling from the ceiling, and I’m soon met with the plush top of the castle. The structure can’t hold the weight of my body, and I slide off onto the thin grey carpet underneath. I stare at the ceiling as screams ring in my ears, and parents rush to my body to check if I’m breathing. I can’t answer them before my vision blackens and I’m lulled off to sleep.

This story is inspired by a dream I had, as well as this image. The inspiration for the monster is from @yourlocalbreadmanz on Tiktok. Thank you to everyone who reads this!

#liminalcore #liminal spaces #short story #horror #unsettling #liminal aesthetic #writing #thriller #oddcore #weirdcore #nostalgia

[mistraliprincess]

Ghouls and Ghosts of Kaigan II

“Y̴͜͜óu ̛m͠i̶̢g͠h̴҉̷t̷͡͝ ͟͞b̶e͟ ̷l̢͟o͘ś̷͠in͏҉g ̡͠i̢t̵̕ ͢͝͠t̴̀h̛̛er͟e̶,̧́ ̕H̡i̡g̀h͟҉n̛͏ęş̵͞s͡~͠ “

“I do NOT need you talking right now you leech...” Wisperer instantly snaps at that cursed voice that had been in her mind since she first had the Tanto in her possession. She could feel it making her anger rise and rise with it’s damned chuckling that repeated after her spiteful remark. “Either tell me what the damn hell happened here or fuck off.”

“S̡͞͝ųc͏̛h̨́ h͟͡a͝r̡͘s̴ḩ͠ w̵̢ord̷͜͝s̴҉҉ ̧̢t̨͝hé͠r͏e̡͡,̧ t̴͞o ̷̛y̵ǫ̶́u̸r͟͏͞ ̡a͟͠͞n̴c͟͢e̷͠ś͟to̵̢͠r̶͞ ̸҉̸n̵͞o̶̕ ļ̕ȩ̛s̡s͘,̶͟ ̛̕͏h̕͟op̵̢̛e̸ y͞o͜͟u̡͟ ҉͠͞d̛o͢͏̨ń't͢ ͘f͏̀ǫr̷͝g͜e͢t to͡͝ ͝d̸o ̶̕th҉̨͘e̸͠ R͟͠e̕͟m҉͡è́҉mb̶͢r̴͟a̵̛n͠͝c̶̶e ̕C͠e̛͏r̕͟em̢o͘ņ͟͜y͠ ̕͏ǹ̡͝e̵҉̵x̡͟t ý̵e͏̛ar͘~ “

The Faunus simply just growls as she keeps scanning the room, not in the mood for the shade’s teasing and riddles. She had been followed by something that refused to show itself this whole time, gotten even MORE questions than answers by coming her so far, and seen that damned multicolor figure again. It annoyed the Woman greatly that she had taken such a big leap forward toward understanding things, yet it felt like she fell ten times the distance backwards in progress at the same time.

“I’m only going to repeat myself one time, Grento, either tell me something that helps me, or shut up and go back to whatever corner of my head you’ve been hiding yourself in.”

“I̛f̵ ҉ I͞ wèr͝e͢ y͟ou, ͏P͜r̛ińc҉e͞s̡s, I͞'d̶ wo͡rr͟y̡ l͢ess ͝a̴boưt͏ ͠what ̀I̕ ͜ca̢n͜ t͠e͟ll͜ ͟ýou͢ a͝nd ḿo͢r̨e ͝a͝b͝ơu҉t͠ w̧h͜át's ̴co͟m͏i͠n̴ǵ f̨r҉o͡m̀ ҉yo̡u͞r l̸e̢ft.̀“

His words struck Kemuri as odd, turning her head she saw nothing coming at her at all. No Grim, no chunk of rubble, not a projectile or a weapon, nothing at all except the line of pillars just a short distance from the wall and... a faint dark line which seemed to suck away the light around it approaching fast.

Immediately she brings her sword up with the flats between herself and this dim line, her Tanto-filled hand rising to brace as the subtle disturbance hits with a loud clang against the metal of her weapon and forces her back, nearly making her trip over the step. A quickly raised foot planting itself on the step above and pressing against the one beyond keeps her in place, however, even as she feels this... whatever it was pushing against her weapon.

The Huntress pushes back, groaning and gritting her teeth at how strong whatever this thing was that she couldn’t seem to make even an inch of forward progress. She was just glad they seemed to be in a stalemate for the moment, neither one able to push the other further. Gave her a moment to close her mouth, furrow her brows, and breathe. Inhaling deep and long, then breathing out fast and hard with steam rolling from the corners of her mouth.

Warmth filling her body, she attempts pushing back against whatever this thing is again, this time managing some give for her to adjust her footing. Pushing more, she finally finds herself able to take a step and force this thing back. Her tail slapping it’s end against the floor behind her as she began to shout out with effort, pushing further. Step after step, slowly forcing her unclear assailant back toward a pillar she could see beyond until she feels it stop against the Chamber’s support.

Though, the line clashed against her blade wasn’t pressed to the pillar itself, no, there was still some space between. Four, five feet by the look of it, before the pillar itself. She couldn’t understand it, it didn’t make sense, but then again what did down here. Yet her mind was quick to asses what she could, the thin dark line seemed to be the only thing trying to press against her blade. It seemed there was some more unseen to it above and below, but not by much with what she could feel.

Training kicking in, the Huntress dropped to her knee quickly, watching the odd line pass over her head. Immediately bringing her Tanto up and forward to stab it’s blade at whatever was her assailant. A piercing shriek would burst from nothing as she feels the blade sink into something, but with a very noticeable lack of any blood or something else of the sort. This had to be some sort of Grimm then, right?

Not one Grimm she knew of could fit this thing though, not with the little she knew and even if she learned more she was sure that would stay. No matter, she couldn’t stay with the blade stuck in the unseen. Pulling the smaller weapon free, she catches the line from before coming down from overhead, managing to roll aside before it could contact with her and cause damage. At least, to her anyway, looking back in time to see chunks of the crystalline floor crash down to the ground again from the crushed area bellow where the line now sat with a crash echoing through the room. The lights below flickering and falling dim quickly after.

She would notice now only that the line disappears from her sight. It was difficult to see already, yet even still it would vanish soon after it’s attack. Rendering her assailant entirely unseen, though she still knew it was near the pillar. Hoped it was still near it at least, rising to her feet with a step back as she stows her Tanto and readies her Katana with both hands before her. Shifting one foot back, and easing away from the support, away from the pedestal in the center of the northern wall, as she waited.

It was unsettling when the room fell silence once more, save for the occasional sound like prior to her confronting this... thing. In front of her, closer, closer, but then her left, getting the Huntress to turn to face it, looking straight at a new pillar. The being going quiet yet again...  earning an unhappy growl from the Woman as she keeps scanning her surroundings.

Until she caught sight of the line forming once more, just barely, as it was straight, thrusting towards her. Side-stepping, she brings her blade aside to deflect it away from herself, watching it impact with the wall behind her crating a deep puncture and causing more of the pattern to go out. Quickly lowering the blade, she uses the tension having it pressed against the dark thin line, transferring it to a low swing forward into the unseen creature, feeling it briefly meet resistance and hearing another shriek in reaction to her attack.

Still, no blood, no viscera, her blade left clean and nothing visual having changed. Once again catching the line vanishing from sight right where it had been, leaving her unable to see her enemy. This back and forth already growing tiring needing to keep a vigilant watch over everything around her. Keep listening for that damn subtle sound that the thing seemed to keep making for some reason or another.

A part of her was starting to wonder if this thing was even a Grimm. With the knowledge that the history of her people went as far back as to have existed even prior to recorded history, she couldn’t even begin to imagine what this thing may be. All she needed to know was that she could catch sight of it’s attacks, in doing so, she could fight back. Somewhat, anyway, but she was just glad she could, just had to keep the fight away from the Qilin bones and the pedestal with her Crystal. If either of those broke, her venture here would be for naught.

Instead of turning to face the unseen again, she burst into a dash forward from her kneeled position. Letting her tail slap against the crystalline floor and chunks of pillars in attempt to keep her opponents attention. Even in spite of how clear it was that it must have been following her with the constant odd sound she was hearing behind herself. A look back would reveal to her the bits of rubble along the ground behind her being pushed aside by something, though given the lack of visual source, she knew it had to be her opponent. Cleared up that it was truly a physical thing that effected the world around it to her, gave another method of keeping track of it too.

More knowledge on this thing was better, gave more confidence to the Huntress that she could combat it. The big question remaining was how it was attacking her, however. All she ever saw whenever it attempted to harm her was the formation of-a subtle dark line catches her attention swinging her direction from the left behind her. Turning her attention forward again so she could dive to roll and evade the streak, catching on her feet and finding herself face-to-face with the earlier eastern wall. Spinning on her knee and rising to her feet to put the wall to her back, she watches to the floor for disturbed pebbles, glancing up to scan for the line, and returning her view down.

However, there was no sliding noise like as it chased her, beyond her breathing and the slight shifting of her feet, the room was silent. Even still she kept her blade forward, readied with both hands on it’s grip to react if needed. It would be another minute before she’d hear that familiar, now rather annoying, slithering sound once more. Left, a few feet away from what she could tell, bringing her to turn and step away from the wall. Easing herself right, the sound continuing from ahead, and watching for any shift or disturbance.

“E̷͘n̸̸j̵o̴y̛͟i̵̸n̸g̛ ̵͜͝ý͢o̢ur̴s̛͞e͝l̶f̸̛,̧ H͝i͞͡g҉͡h̶̨͏ǹ̀͞e̴̛s̵s̡̛?̷͡ “

The Qilin refrains from granting the voice a response as she keeps her focus, watching for anything ahead of her. Listening as the shifting sound moves to the right, from what she can tell, passing behind a pillar.

“Co͏l̡d͘͢͢ ̡s͝h̢͞o̶u̴̴͘ld͘e̶̡r͘?̴̢͘ ̷̧Ỳ͠o̧͏u͜'v͟e̢ ҉̕n̶͘o̴͘͝t̕͠ ̶͠b̴e̢e̢͜n ̢́a͜͠bl̀e͏ t҉̸҉ó ̢̛ig̷n͜oŕ̶e͠͡ ͟͠ḿȩ ̷lik̷̸ę̡̕ ̶͠t̴́h͟a̡͝t̨͝ ̕͝s̨͡i̡͘͜n̴͢͟ce ͝I ̸͏̷f͞į͢r̕s̀͞t̢͏ ̶st͜ar͘t͡͞e͟҉d ̸̢͠ś̵h̀͝͡o̶͢͡w͝i͘͝ǹg͠ ͟my͝s̢e̵l̵f̨͢ ̵̨béf̸̀or͏҉̢e͏̶ ̨̀͠I̸̶ ̴c̶r̷ú͠ś̢h҉҉҉e͏d̕͢ ͝҉y̧͏͡o̡͢u.̨͜ “

She does little more than groan hearing him continue to speak, earning a chuckle from the voice in the back of her mind. It almost distracts her from the noise coming out from behind the pillar ahead of her, where she sees a pebble being pushed aside and a slight path left in the dust along the ground. Not approaching, it kept it’s distance, but it was circling her instead.

“M͞i̛g̸h̵t ̷w͏a͟n̢na̢ ͠open̸ u̢p t͞h͜at̵ m̧a̷r̢b̧l̨e͏ ͡y͠o͏u̧ ͜c̢la̢i͝m̢ is a̕n̕ eye͝ ͝i̵f ͢you h̶opé ͜t̴o͡ ̛fight̨ th̀i͏s҉ ͢t͡h͞i̕n̡g̷ o̡nc͜e̢ it̢ gets g͠oi͘n̢g~”

It’s... clearer when it speaks this time, less of a distraction or annoyance than the last two times. To open her Aura-sensitive false eye though, especially when the whole room was alight with her Aura through what had been siphoned into the crystal earlier? It agitated the eyelids and eye socket around it because of the overloading stimuli, would it really help against this... thing? No, the voice was trying to distract her, possibly blind her briefly so whatever the thing was could get a hit on her. It had to be.

“O̶r͢ ignor̸e͟ ̸my͘ ҉ẃor͝ds and keep trying ͡l̶i̕k̢ȩ th͢ȩ c̸oưn̵t͟l͜e͟ss ͢b̢ęf͏ore͠ yoù d͜id͘.”

Wisperer had half a mind to roll her eye after the comment, but would stop hearing the slithering sound again. This time, unlike before, it was continuous, fast, growing louder with the unseen creature approaching her. Her eye rises as she sets her attention the direction of the noise, finding the familiar subtle line taking form directly ahead of her. It was charging her, and she would turn her blade to swing it up, catching the line from below and forcing it upward. Feeling the tip of her blade drag and the shriek of the thing in pain from a fresh wound.

Her intention was to twist her blade back to it’s normal angle and swing it down at the unseen before her. But before she could she feels something impact against her right side, something that... oddly feels both like some rounded thing striking at her side, and cutting at her, both below her arm on the side of her chest. Feeling her Aura flare absorbing the impact, but only briefly before it feels like her breath is torn from her through the contact somehow. Feeling the line she couldn’t see sink into her skin through her combat equipment, and pulled back to cut deeper as it is.

Groaning as she feels the thing pull away through her skin, leaving her body and letting warm fluid flow from her new wound. What Kemuri quickly notices that’s both confusing and worrying, however, is that she feels her blood sticking to something. Her assailant doesn’t allow her to look to try to understand yet though, another line forming to her left, she catches the sight of it this time, With her right arm weakened for the moment with the injury still fresh and stinging, she quickly steps back toward a pillar behind her and rolls herself around it away from the attack with a wince.

Quickly she moves from pillar to pillar, crossing the room toward the center to get at least some kind of distance so she can assess the damage she suffered and understand the odd feeling. Hearing the slithering broken and slow like it originally sounded growing farther and farther away, she felt comfortable stopping behind the sixth pillar she passed. Slowly lifting her arm with some trouble from the pain to look toward her wound, only to find her outfit blocking her view. Causing her brows to furrow both confused and trying to make sense of it.

She was struck, somehow it got through her Aura after a second of resistance, so that wasn’t going to keep her safe in the long run. Yet... it went through her clothing too? Ignored it like she was bare and cut right at her skin? How could... anything... do that? Completely ignore everything before the body itself? It stumped her what this thing could be, would simply opening her Aura-sensitive false eye again really help that much?

No time to think, a glimpse of another line in her left eye’s peripheral swinging closer to her urges the Qilin to duck. The attack impacting and digging into the pillar behind her instead, making some rubble from the break it causes fall onto the Huntress. Before she does anything else, however, she attempts something, figuring the line had to be whatever part of her assailant was using to attack her, she aims her blade above and thrusts it up. Finding no purchase upon anything, however, despite still seeing the disturbance still embedded in the support.

One more test is done before she dashes away, quickly just swinging the extended sword back to see if it clashes against the line. Not only does she feel it connect, but she sees it retract from the pillar to counter her weapon. With the momentum of it knocking her blade forward, she takes that opportunity to use it as a lead for herself. Swiftly rising to her feet and into a sprint. Though she can feel her head tugged briefly, something catching her hair right at it’s end before she hears something crash to the floor.

After some distance, a turn to face the direction of where she last met her attacker, her eye met new damage on the floor, more flickering pattern losing it’s connection, and a fair portion of white hair around it. A reach behind herself with her right hand and a wince, she finds her hair does feel shorter. It didn’t bother her much, not like other Women she’d heard about. Kemuri was more just glad that it wasn’t her body that got cut again.

The slithering sound returning after a second making it clear it wouldn’t be like that for too much longer if she didn’t pay attention. Part of her was starting to truly consider taking the advice from the voice. Opening her eye to take in her surroundings with Aura-sensitive sight. Yet there was still of part of her which doubted greatly, remembering how much it stung for her false eye to be open and taking in the blinding white that filled the room since she inserted the crystal into the pedestal.

She couldn’t hesitate, however, the Huntress knew that she’d have to let her eye open so that she may have her ‘full’ sight before too much longer. Before she’d bring herself to, however, she’d take a breath. Hearing the slither sound off, still at a fair distance, she lets her left eye close briefly. Breathing in through her nose, and huffing the exhale out the same way, pausing a second before repeating. Now was as good of a time as ever to try a practical application of another Branch of the Fujiki Semblance. One which she was sure would provide a great deal of assistance, whether she open her glass eye or not.

Feeling her hearing pick up more and more of her surroundings with each breath from the sliding of the unseen against the crystal-esque floor to a bit of dust and rubble tumbling from the pillar that had just been attacked. The scent of old dust and stone, of the long dried blood becoming stronger in her nose alongside an odd foul stench she could only explain as rot. Tasting a stronger bit of iron upon her tongue, making her wonder if she may have bit her tongue a bit when she was under... their... control. Feeling her muscles twitch and flex beneath her skin, even if it did hurt a little with the wound in her side, ready to move, to strike.

Her first normal breath leaves her in a snarl, lips curling back some and her teeth bared once more like before. Only this time, she kept with such, easing her left hand off her blade to grip and draw the Tanto, bringing it before herself with her sword as her body begins to lower into a squat with her left leg back and aside. Scaled tail rising behind her to start swaying more actively, occasionally lifting higher only to smack down against the floor behind.

Wisperer can feel her humanity shift aside for the inhuman to step forward and take lead. A not all too pleasant feeling, but the sheer alertness that came to her and the sense of energy behind every movement, even as simple as just adjusting her grip on both her weapons, felt good. Even as she eases open her right eye, letting it sting for a moment from how bright everything is due to her Aura somehow coursing through the room, it doesn’t bother her as much.

In doing so, however, she catches something quickly among the sea of white that the eye sees, seemingly super imposed over everything surrounding her with her left eye taking in normal vision. A large, pitch black mass slowly approaching her it’s body seeming to bob and shift from side-to-side. It’s slow for the moment, each time it shifts from one side to the other she can hear that slithering noise match with it’s motions.

It’s upper body looked humanoid with it’s silhouette, but the lower was too vague to really link it to anything. Though from the absolute pitch black that gave her it’s form, she could only assume this thing was, at the very least, connected to the Grimm in some way. Only ever seeing something show up as such an all-consuming darkness within the Aura-based sight of her false eye when facing a Grimm enemy. A beast void of Aura which feeds of that of those with Aura, and their negative emotions. Yet, this thing didn’t seem interested in Aura, not the slightest bit disturbed by that which flowed through the room itself right now, but entirely focused on her.

The further confusing thing to come to the Huntresses attention is the being’s lack of arms. No horn, no arms, no tail even for which it’s attacks could’ve come from earlier. It makes her brows furrow as she tries to make sense of it, to think of how it was attacking her. Her beastly side wouldn’t stay in place to think it over for too long, however, body aching to move, to fight, in order to understand it.

Swiftly launching herself from the floor beneath at the creature to close distance between them, purposefully leaving herself open within the air. Watching that same, barely visible line as before take form and begin towards her. Though within her right, there’s not one bit of a limb or anything that moves to match it, but instead particles of pure black taking form and aligning to create a line, matching right up with that which she could see in her left eye.

Swinging down her Katana as it approaches, she forces the blade down so that her feet settle upon it. Physical, a platform of sorts, though admittedly it did feel like it was burning her feet some, even through the slippers of her equipment and her suit. Hissing at the discomfort of standing atop the blade, she kept focused to look down toward the floor. Finding nothing connecting it with the creature ahead. Odd as it was, she didn’t dwell on it for much longer, her instinct wouldn’t let her the instant she caught one of those dark particles taking form in the corner of her sight again.

Another line, angled this time, took shape beside her and quickly began to move. She jumps from the first line to evade, leaning forward as she does to launch herself over and behind the beast. Finding herself landing over what looked to be a long, thick tail which thins out to a tapered point about four feet behind the creature’s main body. Immediately figuring it provided balance for it’s movement, she  wasted no time in swinging her Tanto down across the extension of the foul thing to sever it from the main body.

Yet she meets resistance half way through, some part in the center of the thing’s body being solid, and strong enough to make her blade stop against it. Surprising Wisperer and making her snarl in anger the same moment her ears are filled with it shrieking in pain. seeing the dark form of it’s ‘tail’ begin flailing and coiling about in the same moment beyond her blade. Pulling the smaller back, she swings the larger down in the same place, this time feeling it cut into whatever blockage held the other blade back.

Letting go of her weapon, she lifts her foot onto the handle and lifts her other, putting all her weight into bringing the blade down and cutting through the appendage. Severing it at last, and watching it fade from her vision in her right eye. Only able to watch the beginnings of such, however, another flake catching her vision again. This time moving up, making her look above to find that sliver of black aimed downward at her. Not being given the time needed to retrieve her sword, she lowers herself as it begins down, lunging forward and away from the beast, making sure to swing her tail wide to the side and up in front of herself that it doesn’t get cut.

Upon setting her feet down to catch herself, however, she whines out and stumbles with her right foot slipping forward. Having to put her hands behind her to catch herself before she can fall backward entirely. Twisting her right foot to look to the source of the pain that tripped her up, she finds blood seeping into the bottom of her footwear and soaking through. A quick wiggle of all her toes clarifies that it didn’t catch one of them and sever or cut into it, her best guess would be that  the odd line must’ve slipped through the gear like before and skimmed the bottom of her foot near the front.

She hears the thing slither again, turning her head to look behind herself with her right eye, the silhouette of the creature grows closer in her sight. Black flake forming, it’s pulled up above her again, her left eye catching the dark mark through existence before it can register in her right. Unable to lift herself up fast enough to avoid it as it finishes forming along the length of her body and beginning down upon her, she has to roll aside. Again flinging her tail out and up to get it beside the rest of her body as she does, though she’s unable to keep her hair as safe. Immediately feeling her head tugged back similar to earlier, only this time it feels lighter and easier to turn after.

It doesn’t stop her, however, not in the adrenaline of the moment, rolling along the ground a few more times before she finally makes to rise upon her feet again. Wincing at the still fresh pain in her right foot, and a returning sting in her right side under her arm from the earlier wound she suffered. Trading her Tanto to her right hand so that her left could reach to press over the still clothed cut which, only now, she realizes runs over a rib.

A sense of relief fills her briefly discovering why it didn’t cut deeper. She could feel plenty of blood, and her fingers were coated somewhat when she drew her hand back, but at least it wasn’t worse. Still, the sticky substance slowly running down her side and plastering more of her suit to her skin wasn’t helping. Nor would the same feeling under her foot now. Not only that, but it would make the Branch of Beast she had set herself down moments before less effective, unable to move as freely and quickly now because of it.

Kemuri doesn’t bother with reaching back to feel her hair, however, already turning to face the creature again. Unable to find it where it should be, however, and in it’s place seeing the majority of her hair scattered on the floor where she had been, and a pillar a foot beyond that. It had been spur-of-the-moment reacting, and a lack of awareness of her surroundings, but it turned out to be for the best that she rolled the way she did.

Adjusting her feet and her position with a wince, she readied to react to any signs of the creature. Looking around herself, behind even, trying to understand where the thing went. What little she knew, whenever the creature had made it’s attacks, they seemed to be in front of it. The few times she was able to watch them formed, it was a confirmed thing. It could only form those odd lines that it used to attack her in front of itself, so if she were to at least see one of them then she should find the beast itself.

However, for a good minute, she wouldn’t see or hear anything, letting her Semblance ease out of it’s active state as she stands with her brows furrowed with ther contusion. Tanto still out before her, she breathes normally a moment as her body returns to it’s normal state, feeling her senses dull back to their usual capacities. A bit of tightness in her chest, but after coughing out a couple times it felt better, unlike the tinge of soreness in her limbs. Clear signs to her that she still needed to work on training with that branch of the Fujiki Semblance.

Quickly retrieving her Scroll with her free hand, she brings it into her peripheral to check her Aura. Between whatever the shade did earlier, her interaction with the skull, the Crystal spreading light via her Aura, and now this most recent Semblance use, she was curious how levels would be faring. Feeling both relief, and worry seeing she was still well over two thirds.

Most branches of the Fujiki Semblance didn’t use up much Aura to do one-off things, and even when they used more to do bigger, longer-lasting stuff, it was still a fairly small drain. Not to mention she had a larger than usual Aura pool given her rare Faunus traits. From what little she’d looked into it, there always seemed to be larger Aura pools in individuals who had some relation to an ancient creature.

Yet, the amount that had been used already... it shouldn’t be as far down as it was already. She still had plenty, sure, but the last she recalled doing extensive Semblance use, even for twice as long as she’d been engaged in this conflict, she usually had closer to three quarters of her Aura remaining. This was lower than it should be, was it because of what the Shade made her do before, or was this opponent of hers not simply ignoring Aura, but draining it?

It couldn’t be thought over for much longer, hearing a shattering sound ahead of her. Briefly looking up, she had to lift her arm to shelter her face from debris blasting from one of the pillars. One to her right, the top broken from the ceiling of the chamber, and the bottom following soon after. Needing to shift a leg back to avoid a chunk of crystal hitting her foot, wincing feeling the motion strain the wound beneath.

Even with the shift, she finds herself needing to turn and run aside, seeing the pillar pushed to fall her way by the unseen. Pushing through the sting of her foot as she sprints out of it’s way. Turning upon coming to a stop to look to the now crashing, breaking pillar and seeing dust and rubble scatter from it. Only barely catching the dark figure of the creature in the peripheral of her glass eye.

The form low, it approached fast, the slithering noise constant and getting louder as it moved. It’s prior human-esque upper half being further solidified as such with a clear outline of a hairless head raised up from atop shoulders as if to look at her as it moved. Still without any arms, it seemed to curl from one side to the other to move, clearly snake-like, but never had she heard a hiss or had it attempt to bite her.

Over it’s shoulders, however, she sees to of the lines taking form above, angled, vertical, and coming fast as they kept ahead of the creature itself. Starting to step back and away from the charging thing before her, with her speed unable to beat that of her opponent’s from the wound on her foot. Making to jump back, she couldn’t keep upright as much as she’d like, falling back more than she intended, throwing off her balance and allowing the beast to get close enough.

What really catches her by surprise, however, is that the two lines don’t push ahead like the ones prior had done. Instead, they swing down and towards not only herself, but each other. The angle of her body causing the ends of both to meet her chest a little beneath her collar bones. Once again ignoring her Aura and the fabric of her clothing and the padding within it’s layers to carve into her skin directly. Causing her to scream out as they cut down to the center of her chest, and beyond on the opposite sides along her abdomen before she hits the ground on her back, hearing the clatter of her scroll across the floor as she does.

Groaning immediately with how her torso stung both along her side and across the front, left breathless as she looks to the ceiling. The lines of white running along the roof blurring a moment, as does the bit of the pillars she can see around her. Clearing before too long, much to her relief, but only to find the particles of black taking form with her right eye, left focusing to allow her to see the faint mark in existence coming to be above her, aligned the perfect direction to cut at, or possibly even through, her throat if it were allowed to run it’s course.

A brief moment of panic making her raise a hand, only to find it her empty one which had been holding her scroll seconds before. Gasping at the notice of the mistake she made and immediately raising her other, still with Tanto in it’s grip to her relief, above her already extended hand. Supporting the flat back of the blade with her free hand upon the heavy impact of the line being brought down over her. Groaning with the strain she felt it immediately pressing down against her arms.

Looking past, she sees the figure looming forward above her, the dark silhouette almost looking bigger now as it keeps making the line push and push at her blade. It was actually pushing her arms down to her sides, forcing her elbows to the crystalline floor and her arms to bend and lower toward her chest. Feeling the creature’s weight press over her legs as it gets above, leaning down atop it’s ‘weapon’ to push it further.  Able to feel now a blast of foul air against her face and nose, smelling of rotted flesh and iron.

It almost made her wretch right that moment with how strong the stench was, especially given her heightened sense as a Faunus. A moment of desperation filling the Qilin due to it as the scent kept constant. Breathing in sharply, she blows out fast and long, flames erupting from her mouth a moment later and setting upon the unseen thing’s head above her own. Keeping the stream of fire blowing, hearing a shriek come from the beast and feeling the weight against her Tanto begin to ease.

Pushing back, she forces the screeching thing up and away from her. Granting her room eventually to bring her left foot up to press at it’s torso and force it off her to the side. Seeing the dark line in both left and right eyes shatter as she does so, bursting apart to no longer exist to press down on her weapon, alowing her to sit up. A little slow in doing so, and groaning as her chest stung, but she returns to her feet. Ignoring the screaming creature being engulfed more and more by flames beside her and writhing on the ground.

Kemuri begins to breathe to try and recover her breath, huffing out a bit of smoke in the aftermath of her Semblance being used again. However, the sting of the fresh cuts across her chest is joined by another pain quickly. A burning sensation, making her gasp and collapse to a knee as she starts coughing violently. More and more smoke expelled each rough cough that happened as she brings her free hand to her throat. Feeling her skin almost burning warm under her palm over her collarbone.

“"̶A̵s t̶he͘y s̴ay,́ Pr͏i͘nc҉e҉ss̷, ͞'̡P͜laỳ ͡wíth f̡i҉re͠ and yo̢u̧'͞l҉l҉ ̛ge͜t͞ ̢b͘ųrn̨e͠d̨'."“

If she could have, the Huntress would’ve groaned hearing that voice echo through her mind once more. Having to keep trying to breathe between the fits of coughing, she eventually could feel them easing a small some. Not nearly enough to allow her to breathe properly, but she was seeing an opening. It wouldn’t be the best idea, trying to cancel out this burning aftermath from having used two different Branches of her Semblance in a row by turning to a third, but it was the only one she had.

More harsh wheezes and coughs passing before her next chance came, quickly breathing in a fast and sharp inhale. Expelling it out as an equally fast exhale a second later, the air below her and the floor beyond frosting over with the drop in temperature as she calls upon the Branch of Ice. Immediately feeling the burning stop, and be replaced by a stinging sensation akin to brain-freeze from consuming a cold treat too fast.

At least now she could breathe, even if her throat would still hurt for a short time more and her head was going to be hurting after all of this. Though even still, her chest felt sore, not on the surface with the open, bleeding wound, but within. Wisperer could feel a slight soothing sensation, likely her Aura trying to heal whatever was going on inside, but it was most certainly dwarfed by everything else.

Still a few coughs escaping her every few seconds, yet to her relief it had calmed significantly in comparison. Allowing Wisperer to look behind her to the still flaming creature and able to hear it’s shrieking again. It didn’t seem to be dying from the Fire at all with what little she could tell. Being hurt, quite clearly so, but it was most certainly surviving despite the raging flames that had engulfed it’s body.

At least for now it was incapacitated, too busy flailing about on the ground in it’s pain. She had a moment available to her so that she could move to find, and retrieve her sword from the ground beyond the recently toppled pillar. Keeping focused on the sound of the flames and the creature’s agony, and looking back every few seconds to keep track of the thing and make sure it hadn’t gotten up behind her to try and attack her with her back turned.

Having to, part way through bring her left hand across her body to her right side. Holding over the bloodied cloth that covered the wound above her rib from earlier. The next cough to leave her hurting significantly more, and making her groan after and slow her steps as she comes upon her Katana laying loosely on the ground. No sign of the portion of it’s tail which she cut off earlier anywhere to be seen, assuming it had completely faded away as was normal with Grimm.

Sheathing her Tanto before she bends to reach and grab at the blade’s grip with her right hand to stand straight with it again. Groaning once more with the way everything felt. Taking a few seconds as she finally gets standing straight once more to let her head lean back and her eyes close as she takes a few slower, paced breaths. Calming herself and focusing her mind away from her pain while trying to urge her Aura to begin healing her wounds the same moment.

There was a quick feeling of relief that filled her feeling how the pain across her body began to ease, even with how slight it was. All that mattered was she not be as inhibited as much as she was prior. Removing her hand to look at her red-coated palm, however, still made her worry. The fact that the wound on her side had bled through her gear already, and each other wound was from the same source, she couldn’t afford to take any more hits. Otherwise she’d likely be passing out in the middle of trying to combat this persistent thing

Letting her head tilt to look to the flailing flaming thing, then the other to eye the mass of her loose hair. From the coloration on the hair on the floor alone, she could tell that it was everything past her shoulders. Despite knowing she couldn’t afford to get worked up about it, there was a brief moment she could feel some anger building. Having to cough before she could let herself breathe and calm down again.

Finally turning to take steps toward the suffering monstrosity with intent to end it at last. But she freezes along the way, her ears losing the sound of the creature’s shrieking in it’s pain as it burned. The roar of the flames themselves kept present, as did the sight of them, but with portions of the pillar in the way she had to take a moment to clamber over to see where the body proper should be. Only to find it laying still on the floor, the flames more stable than they had been prior, and the dark silhouette in her false eye still as a statue.

It felt too easy for it to die after having been aflame for a few short minutes. With all the other oddities about this... thing, that were in play? It made no sense to her, confused her entirely, made her cautious nature spike like mad. Raising her Katana before her with her right hand and keeping it as stable as she could in front of her and between herself and the creature on her approach.

As she moves, she focuses her Aura to return to defensive purposes expecting some sort of surprise attack from the thing. Managing to get close throughout the minute that followed, and able to feel the heat of the flames against her body from the burning creature. Leaning to prod at what she could only assume as it’s shoulder with the end of her Katana... with no reaction from it.  Not a sound, any movement, nothing. Just laying where it was, flames still gnawing away at it’s body.

Even still, there was no way she was going to trust that the thing was done, that it wouldn’t get up somehow to try and come after her again. What would be best for her to do right now, with the time available, however, would be to return to the pedestal atop the platforms and inspect her Crystal. Try interfacing with it, the pedestal, or the room in general to try and make something happen, try to learn of whatever information may be held in this place. If any... Kemuri hoped there was something.

Shuffling aside and around the still creature, her head turned away a few times to look for the pedestal through the pillars. Catching sight of her destination eventually, she nods to herself memorizing the direction and distance that seemed to be between them. Next looking around for her scroll, finding it rested against the base of a pillar a few feet to the left behind her. Returning eyes to where the unseen body was still burning and starting to back away from it. Progressing toward the pillar to retrieve her scroll and pocket it first, then the platform in the center of the Northern wall backwards to keep her glass eye trained on the motionless void figure.

Half way through, about two minutes through her slow and careful movements, she felt comfortable enough to look away from the being. If it was going to get up again, it would have done so. Still without any trust that it was dead, but at least she felt confident it wasn’t going to bother her for a while. Sheathing her Katana before she turns around to jog to the pedestal with her Crystal set in atop it.

Though her active movement would spur a fit of coughing again, making the pain across her body spike once more, even with the soothing of her Aura working on healing her again. Coming to a stop once on the top platform by the pedestal to press her hands to the wall and let herself lean against it as she tries to catch her breath. Finding now that her scarf feels too restrictive around her neck, bringing her to lift half it over her head to lighten it’s loop before pulling the rest off entirely.

Finally able to find her breath again, she keeps by the wall, though adjusting to lean with her back to it instead, and takes her time breathing. Reaching her left hand under her right arm to feel over the wound once more, she notes her outfit doesn’t feel any more damp or sticky like it had been becoming earlier. Wondering if her Aura managed to stop the bleeding at the very least with that wound. Moving her hands to touch over the new one cross her chest to test how much she’s bled through there, and likewise lifting her right foot to check the ball.

With how recent the cut across her chest was, she wasn’t surprised much, if at all, finding it was still bleeding through. Fingertips returning wet with crimson because of her essence below the cloth. Otherwise, her foot had stopped too for the most part. She could put more weight on it without as much pain as prior, and didn’t feel too much earlier while sprinting to her present spot when she thought back to it.

One more time, she looked through the room to the now smaller flames around the unseen creature’s body through the pillars. Still able to see the silhouette of it’s body with her Aura-sight. One more good breath being taken before she pushes herself from the wall to step to the pedestal, and look upon her Crystal set inside. Reaching with her right hand to wipe the blood off on her left sleeve before stretching out to set upon the Crystal itself.

It’s warm to the touch beneath her palm, which catches her off guard a little, but isn’t an unwelcome sensation. Leaving her hand light atop it, she tries moving it around the Crystal to see if anything is triggered by such. Running the hand down the back, feeling the flat cuts with her fingers, hoping anything would occur. Only for there to be nothing that happens at her touch. Testing out a prod and poke at a few more spots around the stone before she takes a slight frustrated breath and steps back a moment.

The next moment Kemuri thinks, trying to work through the possibilities of what she could do to get some kind of reaction or response from this thing. Looking over the pedestal for any specific markings that could be read as wording, looking down to the platform’s floor to see if there was indication of where she should stand, anything. Not only did she not understand the Crystal itself, it quickly came to her that she truly didn’t understand anything about her family’s past and whatever technologies they had to make up for the lack of modern inventions prior to joining Mistral.

An idea came to mind, one that she immediately despised. Clearly by the chuckling that suddenly started to echo in her head the passenger party liked the idea greatly. Making the Qilin sigh as she steps closer to the pedestal again. Looking to find the immobile beast in the distance one more time before looking down to the Crystal.

“Fine, I’ll ask, and I want an answer, Grento, not having my body taken over like earlier. If I’m going to try an understand anything with my-... our history, I need to be able to do things with my own hands. Understand?”

“"̕Oh̢ b͝u̶t̨ òf ̶c͡o̶urs̨e,̵ P̡r̡i̡nc̨es͟s~ ͏As͝k̡ ̨a͘way̴, ͜I sh́al҉l b͞e your̕.̵.̸.͞ w͘h̢a͟t̀ ̀a��r͡e͜ th̡ey c̕alļe̷d? ̷M̧a҉g̸i͢c-̨Ęi̶ght-Ba͝ll~”

Even though the answer was a cooperative one, it still made her groan hearing the way he said it. The thought that he’d be giving her vague and unhelpful answers like ‘maybe’ or ‘probably not’ was more infuriating than he was by default. She’d have to take it and hope he’s clearer and more helpful, however, she didn’t have much other choices.

“There has to be a reason that this place was marked on a mural that I found in the records. For it to just be a place I put this crystal in, and it provides light to this room, that makes no sense. Especially given how many other gemstones there are that seem to be similar to this one, but are meant to provide light, and nothing else. It’s the only Crystal that seems to absorb and multiply or expand Aura, too, which is why the room seems so bright in my Aura-sight eye, given it’s full of my own, which is a bright, near pure-white color.”

“Ye̶s̛,҉ y̕e͢s̸,͢ ̡Í can ́see th̴at ̨to͞ó,̡ y͞o͡u ̕kno͡w̡.̢ ͡I a͏m i͠n͠ ́yo͝ur ̡h҉ea͡d҉ ͟a̡fter ͠a̷ll, ͞I͝ ̶do͡ ̀şee wh̴a͜t yo͘u̕ see̕.̢ Be̡f͝o̧r̶e you ̸a͜sk, ̴yes, t͘h̛at ̸i͟nclude̷ś w͝h҉en̢ yo͢u͢ ̴look ͢at͜ ̛yo͠ur̕seĺf ͝i̧n t͟hè ̡ḿirr̛o̶r͜ ̕or wh̛en͜ ́y͝o̷u͢ ̧h͢ook̸ ̕u̧p̨ wi̡th ̡m̧en͢. Al̵s͝o̶ th͜o͘se t͟i̴mes ̡yo̴u̴ t̨ry, ̸a͜n͏d͜ fa̶il̴, to͢ ̨woo͜ a̕ f͡in͟e҉ la͘dy̕~”

Kemuri rolls her eyes as she hears the insulting tone and the laughter that follows it from the other occupant of her mind.

“I clearly don’t do... whatever, by simply just touching the Crystal now that it’s in the pedestal. I also don’t see any markings anywhere to indicate I need to press anything on the pedestal itself to do something. Do you know how to work this thing, or is it from after your time, whenever that even was?”

“W̴e҉ll,͝ Hi̷gh̸n̛e̸s͠s̛, I c̛an͠ t͏ell y̧ou҉ th͢ís,̸ I d͡o̢n̴'t kno͠w̢ a şiņgl̛e͟ thing͜ abo҉u͢t͡ ̶t͡hi̡s͡ sḩi̛t̴ ̀ri͢g̛h̴t̴ ̶h͞ére. It̢'̛s ̡fro̴m ͝a̶f̢t͠e͠r ͜m̀y t͢im͝e͘, ͜an̶d̡ ͠Į'̶ve͝ ̴b͞ee̡n̷ ͟lo̸c̕k̕e͏d aw̸ày with t́h̡a҉t b͞l̀a͞de ͡o̷f m̴i̡n̨e ͠t͞h̷e whole t̨ime̕.̸"̵ “

“Of course it would be something that happened between our times...” The Qilin groans out, shifting her footing and leaning forward to let her arms cross and rest atop the pedestal between herself and the Crystal. Placing her head atop her arm by her chin, staring at the stone she placed and currently glowed brightly with her Aura as she tries to think of what to do again.

It would be with her eyes trained on the crystal before her that she feels a sudden lurch in her body, something trying to escape and forcing her backward in the process. Looking down at her hands as she holds them before herself, there’s nothing different in the coloration of her skin. It hadn’t darkened like prior when the shade took control to get her down into the chamber from the hills above. She was still in control, just... he tried to leave her for some reason?

The Faunus was on the verge of asking her passenger about it, but there wasn’t any time for her to even think of the words to use to ask him. Immediately finding the view of the familiar multicolor figure standing across from her beyond the pedestal. That which had just been glimpses in her eyes for months now since the shade became a part of her. Standing, present, and she could feel it staring at her.

She felt cold under it’s gaze, almost as if she was prey doomed to die before an overwhelming new predator. Breath shortening and becoming gasping gulps for air quickly with it’s presence feeling like it was trying to suffocate her entirely. The Shade before had been unsettling, like the thought of an impending disaster, this... it felt like unavoidable death. At least, at first it did, as it stood there staring at her, staring through her, straight at the being that was sharing her body.

Suddenly it felt... different. She couldn’t pin why it felt so different at all, still under it’s cold and piercing gaze. The only change, it was the being bringing a hand forward, extending it out before itself as if to offer it to her. The simple act itself making the feeling that it was going to be her end ease a significant amount for a reason she couldn’t figure. Though as she sees it’s head shift, as if to nod down at it’s offered hand, it urges her to reach her own forward in kind.

Kemuri was hesitant and slow as she lifts her hand, turning it over with palm up and extending forward to meet the entity’s. Just to see the offered hand turn it’s palm down, and lower atop the Crystal between them. Looking down to it, the Huntress mimics the same as she starts to see the various colors of the being creep into the gemstone. Turning her hand over and pressing it down, finding it pass through the hand already set atop the Crystal though to touch upon it herself.

Almost like a catalyst, she sees the beginnings of the color abruptly surge down into the pedestal and out across the whole of the room swiftly after. Spotting a few odd tinges of the deep, dark red across some of the lines that surround them, and some that kept as her near white. The sight straining her false eye, causing more discomfort to the skin and socket around it like before, yet she found she was able to bear with it this time. Able to look about with little more than a squint to her right eye instead of closing it completely.

Barely catching what looked to be the being’s head lowering to look down to the Crystal below, she does the same in time to catch a shift in their hand. What appears to be it closing around the crystal, each finger along a different vertical section of it, and gripping firmly about the gemstone. Torso tilting and arm lowering as it makes to turn it’s hand left, visibly seeing the arm and hand shake as if it takes the thing effort.

With the wound in her side, the Qilin was well aware it would take more effort for her in her current state. Bringing her left hand across to hold over the wound once more as her right mimicked what she saw. Placing each finger down along a different side of the Crystal, she grips tightly onto it. Lowering herself a little as she makes to twist her hand to attempt turning it like the entity was indicating for her to do. Yet it wouldn’t budge.

Adjusting her hand a little, the Faunus tries again, tighter grip about it so she could really put her whole arm into the motion. After a few seconds, she could feel it shift a little beneath her hold. Right away she could understand that it was meant to do this, but after so long she was assuming whatever mechanism allowed for such was simply stuck from disuse. Taking a second to adjust and work at twisting it again, even feeling her body lurch again like before.

“K̴em͢uri, ̸i̕f͟ ̷yo̷u̧ e͜v͘e͡r l͟iste͢n̕ to ͘m҉e͜ ̕a͡b͡ǫu̢t ̸a̡n͟y͏thing, ̵i̷t ̴needs t́o ͘b͝e t̷h̵i̡s,̷ y͢ou̢ n̕eed͠ ̴t̕o͟ ̡gèt͢ ̷away̵ f͠ŗo҉m̀ th҉i͠s t͡h͠ing.̵.“

She can hear fear in the tone of the Shade’s voice, the tone alone telling her it was the fault of her passenger that she felt like her body was trying to reject it’s place. Physically she didn’t move, but it felt akin it trying to shift out of itself away from the thing. Though she wouldn’t let herself move away, she couldn’t back away from this now, not when answers were so close.

Tightening her grip around the Crystal she works on turning it again, feeling it inch around some more beneath her effort. It was giving bit by bit, finally, but she was starting to feel a sharp pinch in the center of her palm. No more than a second was needed for her to figure it was likely the point atop the Crystal pressing into her skin. At the very least she could tell her Aura was stopping this from breaking skin unlike the beast she had been fighting.

Over the next minute she kept at turning the crystal under the multicolored entity’s watchful gaze. Never once seeing it disappear or even move away from it’s spot. Though at one point she did see it move it’s hand away, and from what she could tell, it crossed it’s arms as it watched, waiting for her to complete the action. Despite it’s absence, however, she could still see the many colors across the room.

It was turning, though the process was painfully slow, and the more she put effort into it, the more she could feel the top of the Crystal pressing at her skin. Feel her Aura even begin straining to keep it from breaking through. She continued, however, even despite the pressure and discomfort until, eventually, she felt it give proper and twist under her guidance. Her hand going side-ways with it turning and coming to an abrubt stop where it drops lower into the pedestal again, seeing half now gone beneath the surface.

A hard-light display bursting up into the air over the pedestal with the lines running through the crystalline structures acting as it’s source. At first, nothing more than a phrase or word of some kind written in the same dead language as the records back home. It would take her a minute, but looking the word over she translates it to ‘Command’. Otherwise it was rather vague, not specifying how to command or what it would do after.

Looking through the projected display, she sees the entity across from her lift it’s hand to where it’s mouth would be. Pressing fingers over it before extending the hand out to gesture to the crystal. A gesture to speak, clearly, but it couldn’t be as simlple as speaking in any language. She’d need to use that of the dead language. Right? A language which, while she understood how to read and write some of it, she couldn’t speak a single word of it.

Her throat becomes agitated again, making her cough a few times before she takes a breath. “Um...  Activate.” No reaction to her words. “Enter. Open. Start.” Nothing from any of her commands, making her groan a little. “Map, treasure, crystal.” Still no response from the display. No luck with common, clearly. She knew another language, Old High Mistrali, which she had been told was derived from that of her people’s past, but... it felt like high hopes to assume it would work.

Coughing, thankfully shorter this time and less painful, Kemuri clears her throat after and takes a breath.

“開始 ... アクティベート... 実行する... 再生...”

The display brightens after her fourth attempt, the text shifting into a whole new phrase that passes before she can translate it for herself. Immediately finding a new line of text after, again passing too quick, though she at least could translate one word of it reading ‘Beginning’. The display spreading out across the floor around her over the elevated platform and beyond.

In seconds, the lines across the entire room became brighter, projecting upward to form the view of a great many people across the whole of the room. Hundreds, possibly thousands of people all grouped up in the chamber. Some standing, others sitting, many circling various pillars while others line the walls. Men, Women, Children beside them, in their laps or arms, some even on their shoulders. Many, from the somewhat distorted view of their faces, scared. Others nervous, though keeping together, and some consoling others.

They all react to something happening above them a few times, some unseen or unheard disturbance around them every now and then. Even without audible indications, the Huntress can tell something was happening to these people. Yet they all seem to calm a moment later and look toward a single point, her.

Kemuri’s confused a moment by seeing all of them looking at her, it was some sort of recording of the past, yet it was like they were staring with some sort of expectations toward her. Feeling an odd warmth a second later, she looks down to her feet to see some of the lines below brighter than those around and a figure around her. Stepping back, she sees a man standing tall and proud, long hair running down his back. Stepping around to see from the side, she spots a horn much like her own atop his head, just with five branching pieces across it unlike her one, and growing second.

He’s speaking, visibly at least, gesturing about and trying to calm his people down. Setting a hand atop the crystal in the pedestal as he goes on about whatever he was speaking about. The projection mimicking the view of the lines across the room as they all brighten around beneath the people and shine upon them. Seemingly forming energy-based walls over those of crystalline structure that already existed.

Over the minute that followed, the projected crowd seemed to be looking towards the bounds of the chamber. Most seeming to hold their breaths, while others were staring to perk up from their prior fearful state. A few even embracing in relief, from what she could see. Though this moment of relief would be short lived, seeing many recoil and some soundlessly screaming.

The layer of light around the room cracks, shattering a second later with something bursting through the north-west corner, where she can see another stairway leading up from the chamber. Immediately through the debris rises a Taijitu head, mouth opening, fangs bared, tongue out and flicking. It’s attention turning to two armored men who draw blades to ready to fight it, through it bites at the one and swallows them whole before either can swing.

Panicked, the other swipes at the Grimm, only for it to bring it’s head down blocking the strike with the mask over it’s head. Flicking up afterward, sending the guard flying to smack against the wall, right over what looked to be a cracked, dented wall in the present with what she could see of it. The beast then lifting it’s head again to hiss out once more before it surges forth at fleeing civilians to start devouring as many as it can.

Many with weapons rise, pushing through the panicking crowd that began funneling to the three other corners of the chamber, to face the Taijitu. Some managing to cut into the creature, though others got flung away and bitten, struck by the thing’s venom and rendered still. Others even being wrapped by the rest of the beasts body as it surges into the chamber, constricting a group of armed men and women, crushing the life from them.

One manages to thrust a spear into the bottom of the creature’s head, pulling some kind of crystal from a pocket to strike it against the grip of the spear. Flame sparking atop it, and blazing up toward the Grimm. The entire Serpent lighting aflame with fire, beginning to flail and wist about in pain as it tries to retreat backward. It’s projected body passing where some pillars used to stand, hitting the ceiling and floor in places that are crushed and damaged.

The same lone fighter spins their spear around themself, putting the flame out quickly while the Taijitu kept burning and flailing. Ducking and weaving under and around the various debris being flung about because of the pained Grimm. Swinging the head of their weapon at the creature a few times more, each swipe whenever it’s head passed by. Causing the creature to recoil again and again, all while they worked to, eventually, decapitate the thing.

Severed head sent flying, impacting against something, which as Kemuri looked seemed to be a pillar broken and dislodged from it’s place, but not yet broken. Falling to the floor after before it began to dissipate. Though the calm of the beast killed wouldn’t last, a Beowolf pouncing at the spear-wielding warrior and being impaled by the longer weapon. Another two jumping the same after, pushing him to the floor and staring to claw and bite into him.

Kemuri sees the man by the pedestal reach to his hip opposite her and retrieve a weapon. A simple looking straight-sword, akin to that of the Ninjato she used to wield herself. Though she notes quickly as he readies it and rushes toward the beasts, a Crystal sits nestled in the grip, and protruding partly from the hand-guard along the flat edge of the blade.

A single step is taken by the end of the platforms, and he suddenly burst forward in an instant. What looks to be sparks of energy trailing behind his feet as he crosses the most of the Chamber in mere seconds. Immediately cutting through the arms, and torsos, of the two Beowolves in an instant, with light extending past the tip of his blade and trailing behind it as if extending the weapon to ensure the cut. Though even with his victory, more flooded the chamber from the two staircases.

Readying his weapon in front of him, head turning about to watch for how many Beowolves now stood before him, a few glances were sent up. Worry seeming to fill his movements, more frequently looking above to try and understand something unclear in the projection due to the lack of sound. Though as more and more began to flood the room, now even entering from the opposite side, it looked like he wouldn’t survive. One of the many victims of the Grimm within the chamber which seemed to have been designed to protect.

Beowolves, Ursa Majors, another Taijitu, a couple Sabyr, even a Beringel were visible in the enclosed space. Beringel beating it’s chest and seeming to roar out to get the man’s attention so he would turn to face it. The two seeming ready to clash, Faunus taking a breath and becoming cloaked with arcing energy, the Grimm pounding against the floor.

She becomes blinded briefly, a bright flash of the projected light coming from the center of the room. By the time her eyes recover and she finds herself able to look properly to the source, it simply looked to be nothing more than an utter ball of electricity. Bolts streaking off to the structure around it, to any Grimm nearby, the Beringel simply just gone from existence.

In a bright flash, the other Grimm are all shocked by electricity from the rounded source. Many of them turning to dust quickly and fading from existence. The rest becoming immobilized from the shocking assault. The man looks toward the ball of electricity from behind a protective hand over his eyes, nodding to it as if it could understand him, and he could understand it in a way. Running around and past the thing to leave through the corner staircase the Huntress had found earlier was closed off. Disappearing the moment it came into contact with such change in the present day version of the chamber.

Meanwhile another flash of light burst from the thing in the center, lightning streaking off to strike at the Taijitu that had been stunned by the prior to kill it proper this time. The electricity arcing off from it to strike at the rest of the Grimm around it and crossing the whole of the room. In seconds the chamber was clear of the beasts, and the concentrated storm subsides in one more, bright, blinding flash of light.

Blinking, she tries to look through the calming light, eventually finding herself able to look to the source proper after a moment. Standing tall in the center of the chamber upon four hooved legs, Body partly scaled, the head a mixture of a Horse and a Lion, thick long hair encasing it’s neck with a mane, it’s tail long and scaled with fur along the bottom and around the end. Above all else catching her attention, a single horn stands tall above it’s head, the same shape and count of branches as the skull she had found earlier, which she confirms as she looks to the remnant of the creature she had placed by the wall.

For a short time, she was excited, overly so as she looked upon the projection of the beast. It’s head turning to scan it’s surroundings as much as it could, finding no other threats appearing to try and face it. Though both were short lived, as the Huntress catches sight of something shifting within the projection behind the Qilin. Only marked by vague outlines, she sees a long, horizontal, transparent shape take form  and rush forward with a curve to it’s path. Cutting into the scaled skin of the creature’s flank, making it rise on it’s back feet and soundlessly cry out.

Setting it’s front legs atop the ground again, it’s tail swiftly swings behind itself around the attacker, ensnaring it and keeping it held as the creature then kicks back with both it’s hind legs. The impact against the unseen enemy sparking electricity across the room around them, sending it back, out of the tail’s hold, and through where a pillar once stood, yet now sat destroyed and scattered.

Turning around, the beast lowered itself with widened stance to ready against another attack. Yet, it begins scanning it’s surroundings, unable to find the thing that had just harmed it. How it’s head raised and tilted, it was clearly confused and unsure of the reasoning for it’s fresh wound. Letting it’s head turn to look behind at it’s now bleeding rear with clear worry with how it’s body shifted.

Something caught it’s attention soon after, however, making it look away from it’s wound to glance back toward where it had sent it’s enemy. It’s gaze wandering, trying to pinpoint it’s opponent, though unable to see anything. Kemuri, on the other hand, can see the outlined figure shifting and slithering along the floor past some pillars. Eventually rising beside the Qilin itself where it forms two more lines to strike down at the thing’s side. However the lines are countered with a field of electricity around the creature’s body.

Yet the protection lasts only briefly, the lines forcing down through it, breaking past to dig into the scaled body of the legendary creature. It ignored the layering of protection that the Qilin had made, just like it did with her aura and the cloth and padding outfit she wore. It began to come clear to her just what the deal truly was with this odd foe’s attacks. Watching the creature combat the unseen a moment longer before she looks back toward the clear victor of the past fight.

It still laid there, unmoving and fires still licking at parts of it’s body, though it had all subsided quite a bit. Confident she had a short time longer before it would become a threat again, she scans the room to find the projected fight again. The Ancient beast jumping forward at nothing, trying to bite at it’s enemy, missing, and being attacked from it’s side. A collection of new wounds across it’s body, even with the short time which she had looked away.

This time, the wounds it suffered where two of the lines being thrust into it’s side. Seeing the side of the creature split and opened, blood pouring free before it stumbles. It’s assailant dispersing the lines, allowing the creature to stumble as it tries to move. Limping away from where it felt the attack hit it, the Qilin eventually drags itself towards the platform that the Faunus stood on while watching. Her eyebrows furrowing with sadness seeing the creature that she had adored since hearing all the stories in her childhood reduced to such a state so quickly.

Even she doesn’t notice the next attack at the scaled creature before it hits, another stab, this time through it’s back and visibly exiting it’s front. It’s head rising and mouth opening, likely crying out with pain as it tumbles forward. Managing one more step up, before it’s head falls atop the pedestal, the Crystal set within visibly piercing the projected creature’s head from beneath.

Kemuri’s stunned a moment seeing the final moments of the creature, reaching a hand forward toward it despite knowing she wouldn’t be able to touch it. Yet even with the visual only being a recording of the past, she sees the Qilin’s eyes turn her way, staring to her as if it can see her through time. Nostrils flaring with it’s last exhale before it’s eyes shift, emptying and going blank. Dying with it’s blood spilling over the Crystal below and the pedestal, before one more briliant flash of light fills the entire room, making the Woman recoil and cover her eyes.

When the time comes she can finally open them again, the projection had disappeared, shrunken back down to the single display above the pedestal itself. Looking past it, she eyes the set of bones which once belonged to the creature she just watched die. Eventually looking to the skull once more, where she steps closer to it and carefully plucks it from the floor. Hands being shocked by the still present residual electricity, though it doesn’t bother her anymore.

Turning it to face her, the Faunus looks into the sockets where it’s eyes once were for a moment. Scanning the shape and a few markings where it had been scratched after it’s end. Likely due to the foul thing that still remained having been curious as to what happened to it’s enemy after the flash of light which, assumedly, was a final burst of powerful electricity being let loose.

Slowly, she angles the skull and brings it close to her own head, letting the curve of her horn after it sprouts from her forehead touch against the same point of the horn of the skull. The sensation that greets her is odd, a shocking feeling like she’s being struck by lightning, yet it’s subdued to a point of being bearable. Almost like that of the light tingling against her hands, but stronger than those.  Feeling it make her hair stand on edge, and electricity beginning to jump along her horn, but her Aura protecting her otherwise from any sort of harmful effects, if there even were any.

Without thinking of it, the Huntress takes a breath, short and quick inhales and exhales in succession. Feeling her Aura flare as her method of breathing begins to call upon the lightning based aspect of the Fujiki Semblance. Soon sensing the same electrical arcing moving down from her horn, across her body, and coating her as a whole. As if a connection was being made between them, making her wonder if it was still present, in some way, even after all this time.

Her eyes were closed, in this moment, so to feel a sudden warmth come across her hands. Opening her eyes, yet keeping her head in place, she sees the hands lit with many colors within her Aura-sight imposed over her own. Glancing up past them, she sees the head lowering to grow closer, phasing through the skull to press it’s own forehead against hers similar to how she had the skull.

It didn’t make any sense to her, but the moment she felt the same warmth against her forehead it felt like she was rejuvenated. Her body still sore and wounds still present, she could tell, but it felt much less hindering than before. Like her Aura had healed her wounds to the point she could go on as if they never happened, though she assumed they’d still open up all over again if she did too much.

A second later, the warmth’s gone, and she lifts her head away from the skull, which ends the electrical buzz filling her. Looking around herself, she finds that the multicolored figure is gone, allowing her to breathe deeply and normally. Even if doing so would cause her to cough a few times more, urging her to shift her grip on the skull to one hand so she could bring her other arm in front of her mouth as she does. Turning to the Pedestal again to carefully set the skull where she had initially found it so she wouldn’t drop it amid the coughing fit.

Eventually feeling something hit against her arm from one of the last few coughs that leave her, she moves her arm away as she manages to breathe normally again, keeping the breaths shorter and more evenly paced. Red now coating the near-black of her suit’s sleeve. A small splash of it, barely even visible, yet it’s still not a good sign, especially if she was still going to need to fight.

Thankfully, the creature still seemed to be stationary as she looks over again, seeing the dark figure in her Aura-sight laid on the floor, but the flames completely died off now with her normal eye. Admittedly, she had more questions than answers by now, though a good many things had been given at least some clarity. Such fact bringing her a modicum of satisfaction, though all the same bothering her that the answers weren’t what she’d come for in the first place.

Yet, as she thought about everything, a few things began to click.

Her people weren’t ever fixed in one place for too long. They always traveled along the coast every few years since arriving on Anima according to the records. This room was of a very unique make, with very unusual qualities to it. It was likely due to this, and how often they would travel, that they made a tapestry with the location of it embedded into the design. Especially given the Crystal on the tapestry was akin to the one currently set in the pedestal, those that she had found which provide light, and the material which makes the chamber as a whole.

It was no wonder now why this would be an important enough place to make memo of among something like a tapestry to be hung. Though there was still the question of what caused all the splatters of blood. Had others come down into the chamber through some other means, only to be killed by the unseen monstrosity in brutal fashion? Was the lack of any bodies due to it consuming it’s victims? That would explain the rot-heavy breath she smelled from the foul thing earlier, but she couldn’t be entirely sure.

Plus, after having seen a crystal integrated into the one man’s weapon, it made her wonder if that was possible with the one she owned. What the possibilities were with that crystal if it were integrated into a modern weapon. Instantly turning her mind to Gotin and how excited he’d be to experiment with the gemstone and work it into a weapon for her to use.

Even her own mind was starting to wander with the possibilities, curious even of what may come to be possible. Completely changeable weapons made of hard-light? A weapon able to more than double it’s reach? A melee weapon able to fire off condensed energy as projectiles to give her a range option for fights? Possibly even a breastplate with the crystal to provide a protective shield like that which she saw set upon the walls of the chamber in the projection!

No, no... that last one’s redundant with how Aura already works. She’d need to focus on a more offensive use for the crystal and it’s powers. Especially with how easily the barrier broke within the projection of the past, it didn’t seem worth it to use such a thing for that purpose. It wouldn’t help enough in the long run while an enhanced weapon would be of much greater assistance.

It’s not the time to think about that, however, not when she suddenly hears something shifting within the chamber. Immediately turning her gaze to the she left the unseen creature earlier, it’s still laying in place, still unmoving, yet something was happening. She’s unable to tell just what from looking at it in this distance, but something smaller is moving on it’s body. She assumes it’s the creature’s lower half with what little she can see via the dark silhouette with her right eye.

“I͜f t̵h҉at́ ̀b̢it͠çh̕ ̵b̛efo͝rè ́w͟aşn̸'t y̧o͡úr͏ c͏u̶e҉ to lea̸ve̶,̕ ͏th͘at̛ ̨pro̢b͘ab̸ĺy ̷is,̧ ̵'̸h̶i͡g̕h͜ne̢ss'.”

The voice isn’t fearful like before, now sounding more angry with her if she had to guess. Though she ignores it for the time, looking toward the skull, then the hole in the center ceiling. Pondering her next move, whether she stay and try to kill the unknown creature which had been the cause of the Qilin’s death, or if she should just gather her things and leave. Consider this trip a success and allow herself relief from further stress and injury.

Wisperer knew it wouldn’t be wise to continue fighting in her current state, not without some sort of assistance or proper medical care to allow her to fight at full capacity. Even with what it felt like her wounds had been healed by the entity and the energy that remained from the skull, she was sure if she exerted herself too much then her wounds would open and bleed all over again.

Given the chance to avoid further fighting, she’d prefer that with the situation at hand. Stepping down the platform, she retrieves her cloak from the floor before retrieving her scroll. Opening it, she activates her beacon as signal for her airship pilot to return to pick her up. Stowing it immediately after to allow both hands to be available as she spreads her cloak out over one, picking the skull from the pedestal and setting it over her covered palm. Carefully wrapping the rest of her cloak around it after so that she could ensure it’s safety in carrying it with her in the way out.

Even with it wrapped, she can still feel the electric energy through the cloth of her cloak, her hands tingling because of it even through the cloak. However she was used to it by now, and she doesn’t mind it one bit. Just she’s unsure how much it might affect the shuttle once she boards. Though for now, she needs her hands free.

Removing her scarf as she kneels, she sets it down and nestles the wrapped skull in it. Tying ends of the cloak that were still available around parts of the scarf, and wrapping the scarf itself around the bundle once over to allow enough space left to sling it around an arm. Doing so around her left, hanging below it where she cradles it gently to ensure it doesn’t fall.

With the skull secure, she steps to the pedestal, taking hold of the crystal to twist it the opposite direction as she did before. Finding it an easier process now than before with the mechanism loosened, she sees the projection end the moment it begins to turn again. Continuing to turn it until it stops, and returns to the placement it had prior. Allowing her to grip lower around it, and pull. Lifting it best she could to pull it free from the pedestal so she may pocket it safely and securely once more.

Though as the crystal is removed, the lit lines across the whole of the room quickly dim and die out. The entire chamber pitch black once more, beyond the light of the crystalline torch that still sat embedded in the gap in the wall behind her. A source of light she quickly steps toward to retrieve, and pass off to her hand supporting the wrapped Qilin skull to keep a light source with her.

Her next order of business... figuring out how she gets out. She could have the pilot drop a ladder for her to grip onto and he can pull her out of the chamber, but he’d need to be there for her to instruct for such extraction. She could try the corners of the chamber and the stairs around them, but something was already telling her they were closed off, and had been for a long time. Between the creature stirring again and the uncertainty of how to even open anything if she even bothered to check and find her assumption right, it wasn’t a good choice.

Though... one idea came to mind that, while she knew it should work, would be at least a little risky to do with how much she’d already used the different kinds of her Semblance so far. It would certainly result in needing medical attention as soon as possible, she knew that much, yet... the more she heard happening by the creature in the distance, she knew she was running out of time to be picky.

Progressing down the platform, she steps onto the main floor again, looking first toward the center of the room where she remembered seeing the hole  she had made minutes before. Then directing her sight to the side, to the source of the noises. Finding now that, without the Aura-based lighting around the room, she couldn’t see the silhouette of the invisible threat she was facing earlier.

Discomfort with her situation was already starting to settle again in her gut, making her reach to draw her Tanto for safety over her Katana... Confusing herself in the process. Why draw the shorter blade? Looking down to her hand, it wasn’t blackened like earlier, so the Shade wasn’t in control, it was still her own actions. Did she just feel more trusting in it’s edge against this thing?

She wasn’t sure what her thought process was, but as she thought it over, wouldn’t it be better? The weapon itself was an oddity, and it possesses properties even odder, like how it appears to just ignore Aura entirely. Really thinking of it, the blade should be able to better counter whatever it was that the creature was making it’s attacks out of. Only a theory currently, she’d have to test it, having yet to use the Tanto on it’s own against her enemy aside from defensive purposes.

Kemuri lets her head lean back a moment, closing her eyes and focusing her hearing to keep track of the sounds from the creature  as she takes a slow, careful breath. It was her best option after all, especially considering she’d only have one hand for wielding the blade, she’ll have much better control of the smaller Tanto than she would of her Katana. Quite significantly so. Steeling herself and readying for what may come as she comes to terms with everything.

Adjusting her grip on her weapon, she presses on, eyes up to watch for her prior entry point so that she could be ready for extraction. As soon as she finds it, her eyes meeting a view of a dark, clouded night sky above, she steps beneath and turns herself toward the still building sounds farther east in the chamber. Readying her blade in front of herself, and angling her body to keep the skull behind and protected.

Squelching, cracking, some tapping even, all coming from where she had left the creature earlier. After a minute of listening, a brief screech joins the sounds followed by some sort of pop. A thud, another shriek, the cracking of the crystalline floor. The sound of a slither, then a wet slap of something against the floor. Yet it sounded less like something that was just outright wet, but something that was sticky specifically. Flopping down onto the floor with a splat, soft splash, and then a slick sliding noise as if whatever hit the floor was pulling away from the spot.

More crystal cracking and breaking, some rubble scattering across the floor, a piece even appearing in the range of her light and clattering onto the floor just a few feet away from where she stood. Nothing about this was good, every second that passed, every change and shift she heard, all made worry build within her. Fear even, with how the thing had already been and it’s ability to entirely ignore her cloth and Aura both to cut at her directly, anything new from it would be bad with what she was carrying now.

Wisperer didn’t get another second to think on it though, just barely catching sight of a thin, small distortion hurtling her way. Only given a second to duck her head to the side to avoid taking it full-on, she still feels the side of her forehead split and start to bleed. Though she kept her focus forward toward the sounds, she could hear the distortion hit into the ceiling a ways behind her making rubble hit the floor below.

The next few seconds she hears more of the same, crystalline structures being struck and broken, rubble scattering everywhere. In front of her, to her sides, behind her, the whole Chamber sounding to be filled with destruction from this creature. Whatever the damned thing was even doing, she was liking it less by the second, the structure of the room was compromised enough already with the western side looking to have had most of it’s pillars broken, but she could already hear two more crashing to the floor.

All this destruction while the beast still wasn’t even done... whatever it was doing, the various noises of flesh popping, sliding, and tearing still continuing from it’s direction. All with the occasional shrieking from the thing itself, a disturbing cacophony of sounds like a living thing being shredded alive that actually managed a shiver down the Huntress’ spine. Her eyes wandering down from it’s direction to the wrapped skull slung under her arm with a hint of worry whether she’ll be able to keep it in tact or not.

Another distortion like before disrupts her thought as it whizzes past her cheek, cutting through the surface as it passes, making her wince and shift her head away. Focusing toward the sound again because of it, right in time to see another approaching, though it’s too central to dodge unlike those before. Quick thinking bringing her to swing her Tanto to deflect, side stepping in the process, she feels it give. Succeeding in redirecting the projectile, though it’s speed still to great it slices her arm as it passes, shooting through the pillar behind to her left.

She didn’t hear the support break from it’s place or dislodge to topple, thankfully, but could hear chunks of the crystalline structure clattering across the floor. One even sliding to hit the side of her back foot. Looking down to it briefly, she thinks for a second before moving. Adjusting her footing to kick the rubble in front of herself, then kick it forward, spiraling into the dark beyond her light’s coverage. Barely hearing the sliding of it under all the other noises before suddenly everything falls silent save for a shriek from her adversary.

The Faunus is left staring into the darkness as the suffocating silence settles through the chamber, trying to breathe calmly and quietly as she waits to hear or see anything. A horrid sense of the impending danger gripping at her chest tightly as she waits. Some few seconds in easing to her knee to settle the skull in it’s wrapping on the floor, slipping her arm free so she can slide it around her body and push it toward the pillar behind her right side. Having never heard it get hit from what she could recall, it seemed the safest to leave the Qilin’s remains next to so she could have more freedom of movement.

If she was going to be fighting this thing again, especially after what it had just done, and with the range it now seemed to posses after whatever change occurred, she couldn’t fight it among the pillars for safety. Too much had just been damages, she knew the integrity of the chamber was at risk if any more pillars were to be broken. Crossing into the more open, already broken side of the room would leave her without cover, yes, but she’d be able to fight without having to worry for bringing the roof down atop the skull or herself.

Already committing to such plan as her feet begin shifting her back as she stands once certain the wrapped bone was as securely against the pillar as she could. Her Tanto in front, the other holding the crystalline light across in front of herself below her weapon. Staring into the darkness beyond and listening for anything from her foe. Though she feels the warm liquid spilling from her forehead reach her brow above her glass eye, and she’s forced to close it to keep it from getting wet with the sticky crimson fluid.

It isn’t much after she can see the light from her crystal torch lighting the pillar to her left that she finally hears the slither like earlier. Though unlike prior, it continues, constant, shifting, slowing and speeding up, getting closer to her, yet at the same time... it sounds like it’s circling her from what she can tell. Moving left more and more, even hearing some of the bones by the platform in the center being disturbed before it continued past.

Though after  hearing it move behind into the more open space of the chamber, she loses the sound entirely. Turning herself completely toward the vast, dark, rubble-filled space over the next minute to begin towards the last sound she had heard. Keeping her ears focused and listening, her left eye open and watching for any more disturbances in reality.

Watching carefully where she steps in her peripheral for any bigger chunks of debris from the fights of the past. Ensuring she doesn’t trip over anything, and pushing bigger pieces out of the way to clear a path for her to return to the center. Either when she’s finished with this creature, or her shuttle arrives, a quick retreat will be something she needs available.

Right amid one of these little shifts of rubble with her foot causes light to suddenly radiate from beside her foot, briefly forcing her to close her eye and look away. Only a second being needed before she could look back to the source of the new light and finding another of the lone crystals like the one within the end of the torch in hand. Though this one was broken off from the rest of it’s grip, only the bracing bit around it’s base still connected to it.

With another shift of sound from within the dark open portion of the chamber, she thinks of something. Lifting her foot, she carefully adjusts the crystal on the floor, bringing it under herself, then pushing it forward. Kicking it lightly ahead of herself to light what was before her, though it gets knocked between some larger chunks of the chamber on it’s path. It ends up not going as straight forward as she may have hoped, but it does eventually come to a halt just slightly beneath a collapsed pillar.

The light was obscured a little, and it bothered her a tad, but in the same moment it revealed another crystalline light, though unlike the prior it’s grip was only half broken. Even still, if at all possible, more of the lighting for the space would be a good idea. Especially given the possibility that it may be similar to the lights that flooded the whole area just minutes ago, and that they could allow her to see her opponent if she opened her right eye again.

Hopefully such could be the case, she’d just need to wait to find out, if the thing attacks her again that was... The fact it hadn’t yet both worried and relieved her. On one hand, if it kept this way, then she would be free to return to the center and leave once her ride arrived. Yet on the other, it could mean the thing’s waiting to attack her when she lets her guard down, possibly even once she’d trying to leave. Incapacitate her when she’s most vulnerable.

Wisperer lowered herself after a couple steps further. Setting the light she had to the floor just before herself. Lifting the freed hand to wipe the blood from her closed right eye with her sleeve and touch over her brow to feel for if it would continue. Thankfully it wasn’t seeming like it would, and after a lick at her thumb to wipe over her eyelids to be sure it wasn’t stuck shut with the crimson liquid, she opens the false eye once more.

Blinking, she glances around the area to adjust to the darkness again. Passing by the lit crystal she had kicked ahead on the way, without seeing any sort of Aura registering from it. A little disappointing for her, but she wasn’t too surprised that such was the case. Neither time she had lit the odd torches had she seen them fill with her Aura like the crystal she owned and had set in the pedestal earlier. Sighing as she realizes she’ll just have to try and pick out the subtle differences in the darkness that filled her vision with her right eye.

It was how she saw Grimm with the replacement eye, after all. Looking into the darkness and seeing the darkest shadows moving through it all. The creatures utterly devoid of life with no Aura of their own made them complete voids to Aura-based sight. This should be no different... right?

The sound of something sliding along the floor ahead to her right would interrupt her thought, making her head turn and her body adjust with blade between herself and the direction of it’s source. Almost squinting her eyes to look for anything she could find when she sees a line of black cutting through the air towards her enter the radius of the light off her torch, forcing her to duck back with hand to the floor as support.

A wince escapes her with how her chest stretches with her movements, feeling  something along the wounded area ‘pop’, for lack of better word in her moment of focus at her situation. Pushing upright again with slight groan, she finds herself face-to-face with the awful rot from before and a low hiss. Her right eye’s vision darkened entirely while her left saw nothing, but she knew the thing was right in front of her.

Kemuri quickly moved to angle her Tanto and bring it up into the unseen, but she’s stopped before she can by the feeling of a hand grabbing at her face and throwing her back. The utter force behind it sending her not only to her back, but sliding across the floor almost right back to the center where she started. Back and tail stinging with the friction she suffered, but her Aura flickering about her body as a whole.

Not gone yet, but after how much it was drained earlier the Faunus could tell it was going to be a fair bit farther down now after the connection between herself, the skull, and the new Aura being. A curiosity still in and of itself, especially given how the Shade sharing her body reacted to it. A problem for the future, however, as she pushes herself to sit up once more, just to barely see another line rushing at her face, which brings her Tanto hand rising to swing at it.

Her aim had been to deflect, but it’s speed stopped her blade, almost forcing her hand backward against her face in the process. Some force pushing it constantly against her weapon, not letting her a single moment to try and push it back or to move to get out of it’s path safely. Even forcing her to bring her other arm up from the floor to keep it at bay after a few seconds.

To her relief, doing so sent her back to a laid down position, allowing just the right angling needed to direct the line a little upward from her head. Feeling it’s pressure slide right along her weapon and off it’s end, and hearing it crash into the crystalline floor beyond her. But not without having caught the end of her horn partly, making the Huntress cry out with pain.

Another mark through the air in her vision as her eyes open again after they had shut tight with the pain, she had to roll aside. Seeing it surge up toward the ceiling, before abruptly turning itself down to surge at her. It’s vertical angle threatening to cut along her body. Her roll saving her from the brunt of it, but she can feel her left shoulder starting to burn immediately. Even stinging in pain as she presses the hand to the floor to get onto her feet again.

A hand, again, gripped her head, this time from behind, and she could feel it moving to pull back so it could throw her forward and down to the floor. Before it could, she acts and swings her arm to stab at the limb the hand had to be attached to behind her head. Feeling resistance, and the fingers gripping at her release with a shriek.

Her blade was tugged at, the arm trying to retreat from her, but with it stuck through and her grip firm she wasn’t letting it. Tightening her hold further to pull the Tanto down, hitting something that it couldn’t pass through in doing so, meaning it could only cut out the side of the limb it was stuck in to get free.An almost tearing sound happening behind her as her blade comes loose and she’s able to not only bring it back to her side, but turn and get it in front of herself.

Nothing before her but darkness, unable to see even a single hint of anything among the shadows, even in her right eye. It takes no more than a second for her to decide on a plan in hopes it would aid her. Breathing deep, exhaling slow, and expelling mist to fill her surroundings. Watching the void that was the sight in her false eye begin to fill with color, to a small degree.

Spots of near white and wisps of the same color across her vision with her  Aura-based sight, and among it all she catches moments of a black form passing in front or breaking through them. The thing still screeching after her retaliation, she bursts forward instantly to rush the unfocussed, unseen enemy. Turning her blade in her hand to swipe it across in front of herself.

Resistance, but the motion finishes and another shriek escapes the thing in front of her. Catching sight of a forming, but quickly fading dark liquid across the blade, just barely in what little light was available for her. The blade was effective, seemed to cut deeper without as much effort and harm it even beyond the cut too. For a second her mind wandered back to her barrage of questions about the knife, but the very next it returned to the moment.

Twisting her arm, another swing ahead of her, resistance and the forming, subsequently fading liquid on her blade. Catching a couple glimpses of the dark silhouette through the patches of her own Aura among the mists around them. Able to pick out the shape of an arm, one reaching across to another for support.

A target, sending her Tanto forward at the space she had caught such glimpse to another brief instance of resistance. This time hearing not only a howl of an injury, but a thump of something heavy against the floor. Quickly, not even aiming for anything specific, she turns the weapon forward in her grip to thrust it out. Feeling the edge pierce through and into the creature’s body, though after a second it oddly shifts to the side, then slides down without her guiding it to do so.

Such odd and sudden shifting throws her off balance a second, making her stumble forward. Planting her right foot down, despite the stinging pain that shot through her leg with the wound still fresh at the ball of the foot, she pulls the knife back. The creature crying out in response, and she can see a line beginning to take form before her face, dark flakes cutting through the puff of white she could see. Just... it’s oddly slow to finish compared to what she’d seen prior.

Leaning back, Wisperer brings the weapon aside against the attack that was coming to be, only stopping against it for an instance before she felt her blade go through and hears what she could only describe as a shattering. Adjusting her footing after and sending the blade forward once more, but finding no purchase. Finding, instead, that rows of teeth sink into her forearm, nearly forcing her to drop the blade.

Sharp, jagged, she groans out feeling the jaw they’re attached to tightening and digging them deeper. The head shifting, and she can already tell it’s going to try and bite through or tear it open, but she wasn’t going to let it. Dropping her blade and quickly reaching to grip the handle with her opposite hand, she thrusts it above her arm, feeling now that it finds purchase and embeds deep within something. The teeth briefly pressing deeper before they release and the thing’s screeching once more.

Pulling the blade before it can be forced from her hand, a few thumps and thuds against the floor follow. A few more glimpses of the dark silhouette among the wisps of her Aura making it clear to her that the thing had collapsed to the ground, thrashing about and cracking the floor, even breaking parts of it to send rubble scattering about.

Kemuri’s arm eases back to her body as she starts to back away from where she could hear and just partly, periodically see the thing writhing about. Howling in pain and anger wanting to reciprocate the pain she caused it, to kill her like it did the predecessor of her Faunus genetics. A glance down showing her sleeve slick with dark fluid between wrist and elbow, almost like it’s maw was wide enough to fit most her forearm within.

She couldn’t move her fingers, much less her hand which hung limp by the wrist. Everything above the elbow felt fine, but below was burning with pain. Her labored breathing with the fresh wounds forcing her Semblance use to catch up with her, bringing about another fit of coughing and forcing her to drop to a knee. Amid the pain making to lift her right arm from her raised leg to set the blade of her weapon between it and her thigh to free her left.

Finding her scroll, she turns on the display finding her Aura worryingly low to the point the gauge is blinking a warning red. A part of her felt it made sense with how tired she was feeling already, and the wounds she had sustained with the assumption from those prior that the creature she was fighting drained such life energy. With it having bit into her arm like it did, she wouldn’t be surprised if that was the main reason for so much being suddenly gone from her. Either way, it was bad, very bad.

What helps even less in her discomfort is the abrupt bright flash of light across her scroll’s screen that forces her eyes closed for a few seconds. Finding a blurred sight of an incoming call on the display after they open again, which she answers immediately.

“Wisperer!” The voice familiar, the pilot, her ride. Still in the midst of her hacking up spit and likely blood, however, she’s unable to answer, and can hear him reacting to what sounds were coming from her end of the call. “I’m close to your destination! What’s going on?!”

“J-” The Qilin can’t even respond before another spree of coughs interrupt her, some which, thankfully, feel lighter now. “Just look for a h-hah-a hole in the ground on my mark...” She coughs some again taking a breath after. “Drop a ladder through it, a-and ascend fast once I’m on.”

“Understood! Just a minute!” The call stays active, but she can hear a bit of rattling, likely his scroll being set down on a secure spot to free his hands. Kemuri does similar, pressing an icon to keep the call active but disable the display to allow her to slide the Scroll partly under the collar of her body suit.

Grabbing her weapon, she lifts her arm to let it free, coughing lightly still as she works to rise to her feet with a stumbling step as she turns to look toward the bundled skull. Even if she couldn’t see it through the mist, it only took her a few seconds to piece together all the different directions she had been forced to look by her foe. Able to reverse it all and figure her direction she needed and begin towards it.

Still hearing the thing thrash and squirm, screaming and shrieking. Assuming it was still feeling whatever lingering pain was caused by her knife. A suffering which, thankfully, was allowing her to make her way without interruption. Almost slamming right into the pillar which she was looking for with the wrapped remain at it’s base. Pressing her right shoulder against it to let herself slide and retrieve her haul. Actually wheezing a little painfully on her way back up.

Taking a moment to pass her weapon between her teeth, biting onto the grip and freeing her hand to allow herself to slip the loop of her scarf around her arm, raising it to let it slide down as close to her shoulder as possible, before taking her Tanto again in hand. Hearing the hum of shuttle engines approach and come to a stop above, feeling wind starting to be whipped down, into and around the chamber, even blowing her mist to scatter it and clear the room.

“Ladder dropping!” The voice through the scroll again, pressing her back flush to the pillar to ensure she’s away from the hole where she entered. Looking toward the dark where she still could hear the unseen being thrashing about over the sound of the rungs of the ladder clacking as it rolls down through the opening.

Stepping forward, she looks at it a moment, before turning her gaze west toward the odd torch she had set down earlier. Against better judgement and how sore she was, it felt like too important of a find to leave where it was. Something that could come in handy in the future. Moving as quickly as she could to bend and pick it from the floor. Turning to begin back to the ladder awaiting her, setting it’s grip between her teeth as she does, and adjusting her hold on her weapon again.

On her return, however, she has to pause a second hearing the chamber fall silent again. A rather unpleasant thing considering all she knew from this encounter, and a change that got her rushing best she could to reach the ladder again. Hearing another slide and a thump somewhere behind her, it actually sends a shiver up her spine this time. She can’t deal with more from the thing, not in her state,

Her hand reaching out for the ladder pulls back quickly at the sight of a dark line entering her peripheral, thankfully avoiding it entirely. Though she sees the rope holding the last few rungs of the ladder on one side cut and those steps beyond fall loose. Cursing under her breath, she looks out into the chamber toward the direction it had been launched from, again finding and hearing nothing.  Huffing a breath, she sighs in some angerr before beginning to breathe to harnes her Semblance one more time. Even against all the stinging pain within her chest that her breathing caused in the moment.

The Huntress’ hand setting down over the wrapped skull, the electrical tingle gracing her again through the cloth, she uses it’s energy to focus. Calling upon the electrical charge within the remains and her own energy with a swift, smooth inhale and exhale, she lets her mouth open with a click of her tongue, sending electricity forward in a singular bolt. One which, as it surges on, arcs to an unseen obstruction just barely off it’s path. Coating the thing with arcing energy, making it squeal out.

With the opening she provided herself, she reaches high to get her wrist over a rung still connected to the rest of the ladder. Using the leverage to jump, trying to pull herself up. A painful effort, troublesome especially with her coughing returning in full, getting worried calls of her title from her pilot through her scroll. Something she refrains from responding to until she manages to get a foot on a secure rung, and her arm over another entirely. Using it to let her hand take the light source from her mouth again so she could speak.

“Go!” She commands simply after, looking into the chamber and seeing the electrical charge around the mysterious enemy beginning to ease and die off as she began to rise. Looking up a moment to see how close she was to the opening, before looking back below to the foe, seeing one more of it’s unusual attacks sent her way. Twisting her body, she manages to make the ladder turn with her to avoid it.

Yet even still, she can feel it graze over her hip, and with it’s pass her hip becomes lighter. Gasping and looking down to the damage done, finding her Katana plummeting from her side in it’s sheath and clattering across the floor below, right as she  finds herself exiting the chamber at last. The darkened grass that first hid the originally miniscule opening, the pit between the hills around it she had wandered over. All dark and dull beneath the dark sky, with the minimal lighting the shuttle provided itself.

Still able to hear the thing beneath screeching and screaming in anger, possibly even hunger given the strong rot she smelled any time it’s face was close to her own. She could even see the hole being widened with some sort of damage being done to the ceiling in her wake, more and more dirt and crystal crashing into the room below. Soon finding out the cause was more of that thing’s lines that it could form, watching one shoot past below her feet, cutting the rest of the lower rungs free from the ladder.

There’s a lurch in her body that she can feel as she ascends with the shuttle, but thankfully the thought of it being the Shade within her again was shut down. The ladder she was on was being wheeled back up the opening in the bottom of the shuttle into it’s hull. An opening which, as she watched it get closer, she could feel the exhaustion and pain hitting her harder and harder. 

With the weight of it all, her body only lets her manage a few steps off the ladder once she was able to. Steps towards a seat to sit drop and let herself rest at last, but collapsing before she could reach one. Just barely able to move her arm to ensure the skull wouldn’t smash against the floor as she rest of her body hit it.

She can hear the hatch behind her hiss shut, then the door to the cockpit hiss similarly as it opens with the pilot rushing through calling her name. All becoming muffled behind a ringing in her ears, her heart pounding, and more coughing retching through her throat. Accompanied by blood in it’s wake, the sight of which she hears make her pilot stand to rush back to the cockpit, but she lets go of her Tanto and the torch to grab his ankle before he can, earning his attention.

Kneeling down and leaning close, the man calls her name again, softer in his tone, trying to be calmer. Letting go of his ankle, she slides her hand down to point at the bundle of cloak and scarf slung around her arm. “F-... Fragile... keep safe... deliver... home...” Then pointing to her weapon before “Sheathe... now... please...”

Hearing him confirm his understanding of her warning and request, the pilot shifts to gingerly pick the blade from the floor of the ship. A quick glance over her form allowing him to find the sheathe in question, where he placed the blade and pushes it in. Making to ease the scarf sling from around her arm after, and pick up the bundled item, flinching a second before he can with the tingling sensation that even just getting near it gives him.

Pushing through and picking the object up, he carries it over to a panel on the wall beside the door to the cockpit. Opening to a compartment with straps available to secure precious cargo, and sets it within. Using two straps, one horizontal, one vertical, to secure it in place before closing the panel again and stepping back through the doorway. The engines roaring to life just after, and her scroll beeping as the call ends a second later.

Muffled words from beyond the door just barely able to be understood make clear to her that he’s trying to make contact with a hospital in Mistral to alert them of her situation. Sadly not being able to connect, much to their annoyance, for what feels to Kemuri like an hour of flight, but in reality isn’t much more than five minutes. Finally connecting with a cheer as she hears it ringing, the ringing itself being the sound that echoes in her mind as she closes her eyes and drifts off.

#Story Post #Kemuri Fujiki #Ghouls and Ghosts of Kaigan #Grento Fujiki

[onewhoturns]

wip wednesday 4/1

Here, have a whole chunk of the reality tv au.

-

“Alex.” 

Groggy eyes open to find a barely lit room, and a silhouette that looks all kinds of weird. “Mm.” She rolls onto her side, hiding her face against the base of the couch. 

“Alex.”

With a long sleepy sigh, Alex rolls back over, arms flopping out at her sides. “No.”

-

Jonas resists the urge to snort at Blue Hair starfishing out on the floor. “Are you snooze buttoning me?” he mutters, voice still low. 

When she doesn’t respond immediately, he just rolls his eyes and returns to the corner to finish packing up his rig. He’s just gotten the arm off of his harness when he hears her stirring again and gradually heads back toward the couch. 

“Wut.” She’s squinting up at him from the floor. 

“Need your mic, Ace.” One clip, two clips, three clips, and he slides the vest off. 

“Mm.” It’s a noise of recognition, even if it’s still very sleepy. “Jonas. Hello.” 

He’s the last one on the first floor. They’ve got an on-call crew in one of the bedrooms upstairs, and a couple packing up the trucks up front for the night, but he’s the last straggler left who’s still got a drive home. Unfortunately, Becca is one of his confessional girls, so he had to stick around until after she returned from her date to tape, and some accident held up her ride back, bringing her in around midnight. Now it’s 2am and Jonas is well ready to be done for the night. But Ben ditched him before finishing up collecting the mics, so it fell on him to get hers. 

“Mic?” 

“Hmm.” It’s a sleepy hum, but it’s done with a smile. “Give me a… ummm…” Hands paw at the front of her shirt, unclipping the lav from her collar before sticking a hand under her back in a position that can’t be comfortable. 

“Get up, I’ll get it.” 

“Mm. Bossy. Like it.” He’s not sure if she’s joking until she laughs - well, a garbled kind of noise, but he gets the idea - pulling herself up via the couch and stripping off her flannel before T-posing with her back to him. 

“Nice.” His tone is a deadpan sarcasm as he sets down the vest so he can lift the hem of her tank top to turn off and unfasten the pack. 

He’s pulling it away when she hisses a sharp, “Shit-- tape,” her words a little clearer now that she’s standing (or maybe it’s the tug of tape on skin waking her up). 

“Sorry. Give me a second-” He rolls up the back of her shirt a little higher, finding the first anchored part of the wire and picking at an edge. “Slow or fast?”

“Yesterday the guy just ripped it off-- it was very rude, actually, no aftercare or anything.” Alex is definitely more awake now, her voice that familiar teasing tone. ‘I think they liked flirting with her, she was fun.’ Right. Logan had said that. 

Gradually peeling off the adhesive, Jonas mutters, conversationally; “You know, now that the mics are off, I think I’m allowed to mention I did some research on you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Logan says hi.”

He doesn’t get to see her expression change, but she whips around immediately, a sunny grin on her face. “Logan? You know Logan?”

There’s a thin-lipped, mildly amused smile on his lips as Jonas puts his hands on her shoulders to turn her back around and continue his job. “I dated Logan,” he murmurs, rubbing at the skin to get the last adhesive off before he follows the wire - hidden amongst lines of black ink that curves around her ribs - to the next bit of tape. It’s such an awkward height, too much hunching over for him, so he drops to a knee so it stays somewhere around eye level. 

“Huh. So you really knew Frankie, then. I mean, they’re in the same group, at least.”

Right. ...Yeah. His hands barely falter, but Jonas chooses his words wisely. He’d rather not fess up to his previous crimes, if he can help it. “Not anymore. Logan flipped on ‘em, left Portland for Seattle.” Sticking the second bit of removed tape to his jeans with the other, Jonas once more thumbs her skin to remove the adhesive.

“I like Logan. He’d always give me a snack from the snack bar at the auto shop.”

 “Turn.” Obediently, Alex turns so he can keep at his job. “Red Vines and pineapple Fanta, right?” And his eyes are entirely focused on the wire, hard to see in shadow and against the tattoo, until he looks up and she’s grinning down at him, an eyebrow raised and her tank top having been pushed up over her bra to facilitate the wire search. 

“Think I can do this one myself, actually,” she murmurs impishly. 

Jonas immediately looks away, rising to his feet. “Right, sorry.” 

She’s holding back a laugh, a sort of devilish mirth to it. “You literally stalked me in my bikini, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” As if to prove her point, she strips the rest of her shirt off as well, before getting to work peeling off the last bit of tape securing the wire to her cleavage.

Jonas frowns. Does she even realize how lucky she is that his camera isn’t running? “Alex, you can’t do shit like this.”

A raised eyebrow and bemused smirk are all he gets. 

“You’re always being watched. This sort of thing,” he gestures vaguely to her shirtless torso, “isn’t a good idea.”

The last bit of tape is off and the lav falls into her palm before she hands it over. “Well, I’m not being watched right now. So guess I’m just lucky.” She pulls the tank back over her head anyway. 

“You shouldn’t talk like that. Or- or act like that, or-”

“Like what?” There’s a slight edge to her voice - wary, defensive. 

He doesn’t mean to get so emphatic, but her ignorance of the subject is frustrating. “This is reality tv, Alex-”

“I don’t watch reality tv-”

Yes, obviously, that’s why- “You don’t belong here.” 

There’s an obvious silence after that. Alex looks at him with narrowed eyes, and he’s not sure if she’s hurt or angry. 

“I just mean… Aren’t you…” better than this? 

“I’m an honest person, Jonas. Everything I told you is true. I have my reasons for being here.”

He’s not going to argue with her. He’s already stepped well beyond his bounds. Speaking of which- “We can’t talk like this when your mic’s on.”

“Why not?”

Should he tell her? That every word she trusted him with is just waiting to be used against her? That those secrets she’d found so painful to share would be aired to the world in a few weeks’ time? “Can’t play favorites. Can’t be too familiar. Same reason I couldn’t hug you earlier.”

She looks more guarded than before, but her emotions are still so easy to read. Such an open book. There’s a kind of determined consideration in her look, before she finally says. “But you can now?”

Jonas is a little perplexed. “I mean, I guess… But you seemed pretty much over it, with all the tequila…”

Her arms are around him quick, the impact enough to make him stumble before he grabs on, tucking herself against him as she informs him, with an element of scorn, “Jonas, I’m a bartender, I’m not a lightweight.”

“You passed out on the floor of the living room,” he murmurs wryly. 

“Yes, because I was tired.” When she doesn’t make a move to let go, he just props his chin on the top of her head, letting her stay there. Not sure why, exactly. “This place is surprisingly exhausting.”

“Hm.”

“Mm, the judgment is strong in this one,” Alex mutters, pinching his waist lightly. 

“Ow.” He lets go of her, but she doesn’t let go of him.

“Liar.”

“Alex, you have to get off of me.” 

She sighs. “But you’re like a big teddy bear.”

He hasn’t been hugged in ages. And never for this long. It’s unsettling, and he needs to put his foot down. “Touching’s for the Kings.”

“Says the man who thinks I don’t belong here.”

Admittedly, if she gets this touchy-feely with the Kings, that could spell a load of trouble from her housemates. “That’s not… Nevermind. Just let go.” She does, finally, and bundles her discarded flannel around her hand as he adds, “Go to sleep.”

“Fine, fine.” She waves dismissively as she heads for the stairs, letting out one last murmured “Spoilsport,” before disappearing on eerily silent tiptoes to the second floor.

And Jonas is left more than ready to head out. 

The drive home has too many thoughts trapped inside his helmet. He doesn’t particularly want to think of the interaction he just had. He doesn’t like the idea of being friends with a contestant when he knows what’s inevitably in store. And if she slips up, if she mentions this, that could spell televised drama on both their parts, and a very public firing. 

Shit. Why had he even… what had he been thinking?

#work in progress wednesday #wip wednesday #oxenfree #jonalex #reality tv au #bartender au #my writing #T rating i guess #alex goes on a dating show and jonas is a cameraman developing a conscience #that's the plot

[thedarkenedkeeper]

Let me tell y’all ‘bout Misha...

I figure with October around the corner, I’d share a, I don’t know, “ghost story” of sorts???? But first, let me clarify two things. 

One: I am 100% a believer of ghosts. I don’t believe in Heaven, Hell, God, the Devil, angels, or demons. I don’t necessarily know what to believe in the way of what happens after we die. I do, however, like to think that anyone I’ve lost before hasn’t truly left - I like to think they’re still here, I just can’t see, hear, or feel them. But of course, while this is comforting, if you believe in good spirits, it’s only logical to believe in bad ones as well. Like, if a murderer were to be gunned down or something, you can’t tell me they’d come back as Casper the friendly ghost, like nah, not likely. So naturally, my belief in ghosts is both comforting and fucking terrifying.

And two: what I’m about to explain to you all - I’m sure there is a logical, realistic explanation for it all. It probably has nothing to do with a ghost or anything like it. BUT until we get some definitive proof or plausible explanation for it all, I’m going with my supernatural-loving heart and saying it’s a ghost.

Alright, let me tell you guys all about Misha!

So I don’t really remember when this all started (either around the beginning of the year or the ending of last year), but one day I had been upstairs and stopped by my youngest brother’s room to see what he was up to (he’s 14 btw). He was completely rearranging and tidying up his room and he stopped to chat with me for a few minutes. During this, I noticed something white fall from behind him and land with a thud, causing both of us to immediately look at what it was. It looked like a big chunk of the ceiling had broken away, and I’m talking a fist-sized ball of white, not a flat piece. Thing is, when we looked up at the ceiling to see if there was a hole, there was nothing - there was absolutely nothing that showed a part of the ceiling had broken off or anything; it was bare. We both nervously laughed and I made a comment about how it was like the movie “Poltergeist”, what with something falling from out of nowhere. I joked further by gasping, saying, “Oh my god, you have a roommate!”.

And ever since that day, anytime something strange has occurred, we always joke how it’s my brother’s roommate’s fault.

One time when my brothers and I had the house to ourselves for the night, we decided to watch “Avatar”, and about 40 minutes in, it suddenly froze up - the picture was still and there was no audio, and yet, the counter on the player was still going. It didn’t resume until 15 minutes after. Of course, I immediately joked out loud, “Goddamn, L (initial of my youngest bro), your roommate is messing with the movie! Seriously?! Now is NOT the time!”

Every now and again (about once a month), either a morning talk show none of us have heard of or an episode of ET: Entertainment Tonight will appear on the PVR, and we’ll all immediately start questioning each other on who recorded it, which of course, none of us did. And naturally, I joke around like, “Oh, L’s roommate must’ve recorded it. I mean, come on, they’re part of the household too! Maybe they like morning talk shows, maybe they like ET”.

Now that I think about it, there was one time a year or two ago when I was home alone and I was upstairs in my room and I swore I heard the oldest of my two brothers down in the living room, on his iPod watching YouTube (it sounded like a video was playing). It was strange, cause it was still pretty early and he shouldn’t have been home yet, but I shrugged and was like “Okay, maybe it was an early dismissal”. Except when I went downstairs, no one was there - no one was in the basement either. No one was home except for me. I chuckled nervously, looking around a tad worriedly, calling out “Don’t do that! Don’t freak me out like that! Jesus Christ...”

Eventually I asked my brother to name the ghost and give them a gender neutral name since we don’t know if it’s a guy or girl. SO my brother immediately came up with Misha (don’t ask why - he just liked the name). 

Now like I said, these things - there are probably really logical explanations for them. However, the one thing - the big one - that I’m about to tell you is where myself, and my family period, are all at a loss for words.

L’s room and my room are beside each other, and for months, every now and again before going to bed, I always heard some kind of thumping coming from the wall that separates our rooms. It wasn’t extremely loud or anything, but it was noticeable and sounded like someone either banging something into the wall or moving furniture around. Some nights it would happen, some nights it wouldn’t. There wasn’t any pattern to it, there wasn’t any specific time it would occur at. It would just always happen at night - sometimes as early as 9:30 P.M. and late as 4:00 A.M., and the thumps ranging from being at one end of the wall to sometimes travelling throughout it. It was really weird. For the longest time, I’d kept on thinking it was my brother doing something, in which case I was like, “What the fuck is he doing at fucking 3 in the morning?!” 

Well turns out, he wasn’t doing anything. In fact, he too had been hearing these thumps for months as well and always assumed that I had been the one causing the noise.

So naturally, at this discovery, both of us immediately got chills. If neither of us was causing the noises, then what the fuck was? 

We told our folks about it, and at first, they both laughed and thought we were just hearing things and making things up. But with how insistent both of us were being - how we were explaining what we kept hearing and how we were both clearly hearing the same thing - they decided to humor us and ask questions on what exactly the noises sounded like, when they occurred, etc, etc. 

Keep this in mind, okay? The wall that separates our rooms - there’s NOTHING in that wall. There’s no ventilation shafts, nothing that would cause rattling or loud sounds at all whatsoever - our dad made this clear to us (and he’s an electrician - he’s wired some of the walls in the house before). And it couldn’t be an animal in the wall because what we were hearing did NOT sound anything like an animal. No scratching or tapping of claws or hissing or anything like that - there’s just thumping.

Our folks at first came up with some theories, the big one being how there’s a possibility an animal (a bird) was coming around at certain times of the night up on the roof and then whatever they were doing was vibrating down into our wall. On some level, I could sort of see that being the case.

But it gets better.

Our mom told us that if and when we heard the sound again, we should go and get her immediately - even if she was asleep - just so she could hear it for herself. One night, my brother heard the thumping and instantly ran to get our folks to hear it, and sure enough, they too heard it and realized we weren’t joking around. The best part (or more so, the most unsettling thing) is, after hearing it for themselves, they honestly couldn’t tell what it was either. They couldn’t come up with a plausible explanation for the strange thumping occurring in our wall every couple of minutes. 

This has been happening for months and it’s STILL happening.

I don’t know what the cause is - no one in the house does - but until then, my brother and I are convinced we have a ghost (who we’ve named Misha) residing in the house. Whether they’re a guy or girl, a child, a teenager, a 30-something adult, a senior, whatever - we’re being nice to them (like whenever I’m home alone and about to blare my tunes, I’m like, “Okay, Misha, if you’re there...PLEASE be nice to me. Please don’t give me a heart attack or anything, alright? We’re cool, right? Okay. Also, I apologize in advance for my loud, horrible singing - I can’t help it, okay? You know how it is. So yeah, sorry! If you wanted to take a nap or something, maybe wait an hour or two” XD).

Given how I’ve been in this house since I was 2, I highly doubt they’re a hostile, malicious ghost - they probably just want attention (but why at fucking 3 in the morning?! Misha, you’re drunk! Go lie down, damn it!). 

SO yeah, now you know about Misha, and if I ever refer to them in a post, you now know who I’m talking about.

Also, I don’t know if they’re looking over my shoulder while I’m typing this or not so I’ll go ahead and say “Hi” to you guys for them, so....yeah, Misha says “Hi!” XD 

#seriously it's creepy and weird #I was already unnerved by it #but the fact that my brother was hearing the same thing #and how our parents themselves have no idea what to make of it #makes it all so much more creepy #look I know there's probably a logical explanation behind this all #but since we don't have one yet #I'm calling ghosts! #which is both awesome and really unnerving #misha the friendly ghost XD #ghosts #ghost #paranormal #supernatural #unexplained occurrences #paranormal activity #supernatural activity #spirits #ghost story #ghost stories

[astreetcarnamedwynn]

ask response: fic questions

This was fun! Thank you, @goldensillydragon, for submitting the ask and for giving me the opportunity to take sweet trip down memory lane. I was able to answer them quicker than I anticipated. If anyone else would like my rambles about any fic I’ve written, just submit an ask/message with a fic title. I’ll answer some or all of the 15 questions. :D

goldensillydragon: Thank you, and don’t worry, take all the time you need. The fic is “Remembrance Of Things Past”, because it owns my heart and it’s a thing of beauty (and, frankly, to me it has become the standard I compare all Blackfrost fics to!).

Feel free to add anything you may want about it, just reading your thoughts on it will be a pleasure, you cannot imagine how much I love that fic!

Fic Links: Here on AO3 or here on FF.net

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

I am a fandom old. I first started writing fic in 2001. I wrote steadily from 2001 to early 2007, and then I stopped for 5 years, largely due to work. Buffy the Vampire Slayer was the first fandom I ever wrote for, I loved it and Firefly to bits, so I was super excited at Joss Whedon directing a big budget movie (oh how time changes perspective). I’d never read an Avengers comic before seeing the movie (I was an X-Men gal growing up). I can’t even remember at this point if I’d seen any of the Marvel movies prior to Avengers. I just know I came out of my first viewing of it in 2012 with a restored fannish heart. I needed it too. That year was hell for me personally, and writing Avengers fic was an escape.

I’d come out of Avengers, like many, impressed by Tom Hiddleston’s Loki. I was especially intrigued by his scenes with Natasha, how both of them played around with perception (Loki with his illusions, Natasha with people’s conceptions of herself), so the first Avengers fic I wrote was a short one-shot called “The Animal Inside” in which Loki visits Natasha to talk with her about the animal/beast inside and redemption:

Loki holds her gaze and says, “My sentencing happens today. Odin will…render his judgment against me. I believe even your society grants last requests to the condemned.”

Natasha holds her breath, unsettled at the confession.

“How did you do it?” he asks. “How did you stop being who you were and become who you are? Barton told me about your past. The red in your ledger. How did you…stop?”

I continued it in a slightly longer one-shot called “The Dog Days are Over” in which Loki has somehow found his way to Earth, rather than having been executed by Odin for his crimes, and Natasha encounters him on a mission. She tracks him down to understand why.

“Why aren’t you dead?”

He smirks. “Because Odin loves sadism almost more than his missing eye.”

And then came the beast. “Remembrance of Things Past.” In its current and unfortunately permanent incomplete form, it clocks in at over 200,000 words in nearly 50 chapters. I worked on it for close to 2 years. From what I remember, I wanted to challenge myself to find a way to write a Loki-Natasha romance that seemed plausible, that especially didn’t compromise her character in significant ways. What I settled on was Loki crossing Dr. Doom (a villain who, in the comics, was powerful enough to go toe-to-toe with him), and Odin directly asking Natasha to help Loki as he knows about the conversation they have in “The Dog Days are Over” through Heimdall. To save Loki, Natasha would have to delve back into her past, as he would have to deal with his past sins to try to atone.

Hence the title: “Remembrance of Things Past”

2: What scene did you first put down?

Probably the first scenes, bridging the time from “Dog Days” to Odin asking Natasha for help. I likely planned a good chunk of the first set of chapters in advance, but I would have started at the start.

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

It’s been so long since I’ve worked on this, and so long since I’ve read it, that it’s hard to choose a favorite with any certainty. Here are some that I liked enough to highlight when posting and that stick out to me now making this:

In one of the rooms, she forgets which they are so numerous, Natasha finds Loki regarding the carved and painted ceiling. The reflected light shines golden on the room and on him. She wonders how he ever successfully lied or deceived, his eyes convey so much. His gaze now is elegiac, a smooth sky covering a seething sea of rage and regret.

*

On the smooth expanse of his life in Asgard, Loki had always felt the scratch, the spot that mars, the place where the pieces of himself should come together and fit, but instead they grated, they set his teeth on edge, and he lived in Paradise as a man tormented by a shadow from the corner of his eye, glimpsed only but never seen.

*

Odin looks once more at Loki and Thor, then he turns and finds Frigga. As they regard one another, a goodbye too inadequate for millennia together, the body of Odin Allfather begins to rupture, the energy within pouring forth, burning, burning, burning his body to ash. He looks up at the stars beginning to shine in the night sky, and Loki may not be able to stop him, he may not be able to save him, but he can do this. He closes his eyes and pictures the view from the end of the world in Asgard, the deep ebony of space, the graceful curve of the distant worlds, the stars as they flare and beam golden light upon the realm, and he projects the image for his father to see. He sees Odin smile as he gazes upon the vista, then the energy takes hold and his body disperses, disappearing amongst the stars.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

“Isn’t it funny the way the worlds turn and the fates fall?”

I ended up liking it so much it became the summary/tag line for the fic overall.

5: What part was hardest to write?

The last major sequence, an epic fight on the Helicarrier that spanned 5 chapters- collectively known as “Blow Up the Outside World.” There were SO MANY different threads to interweave, SO MANY characters to keep track of and get into position for the final outcome to happen. In the first chapter alone, Loki, Maria Hill, Natasha, Bruce, and Sif all have point of view sections. The next chapter, Thor, Frigga, and Darcy on top of a few repeats. Jane, Tony, Clint, Steve in the next few.

SO. MANY. CHARACTERS.

But I made it work. It was hard. I remember having charts planning out what was happening where on the Helicarrier so events could sync up correctly. It was brutal and satisfying when it all came together.

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

It got me writing again, and in a serious way. It will always have a special place in my heart for that reason alone.

7: Where did the title come from?

It’s a riff off of the Proust novel Remembrance of Things Past, which is one of the few huge epics I haven’t read.

8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?

Not that I can remember.

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

Not of the fic overall, but of individual scenes and plotlines. I can’t remember any specifics. I’m fairly sure I didn’t intend to write Steve-Sif as a romantic pairing until story events necessitated them interacting and then I fell in love with their interactions.

10: Why did you choose this pairing for this particular story?

See the response to #1. :)

11: What do you like best about this fic?

I think I did a great job with the action sequences. I think I developed Natasha and Loki’s relationship in an interesting way, in a way that respected both characters and felt plausible. I like a lot of the narration and weaving the various plot threads together, especially in the last big action sequence.

12: What do you like least about this fic?

It’s unfinished. Unfortunately that’s how it will have to stay. My fic writing interests have strayed from Marvel, and I’m currently trying to finish another epic fic beast.

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story?

So many songs. I don’t have my Blackfrost mixes on my iTunes anymore, but I know I listened to a lot of Olafur Arnalds. “Heart’s a Mess” by Gotye. “The Difference Between Us” by The Dead Weather. “Cosmic Love” by Florence + the Machine.

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

Not really. I hope they enjoyed reading it!

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

To not indulge in EVERYTHING I want to write in a story. I doomed myself when I let the POV of the story expand from Natasha to Loki and then to other characters. Don’t get me wrong. I love, love, love so much of what I wrote, but the story grew to something I couldn’t sustain, especially when Cap 2 came out and my brain was all Bucky, Bucky, Bucky. So with “That Which You Seek” and “And the Wounded Sing,” my two big Bucky-Darcy stories, I kept the POVs focused solely on them- Darcy in the first, Bucky in the second. The same with my Yuri on Ice story “Sixty Impossible Things.” There are times I’d love to delve into Viktor’s or Yuri’s POV, but I keep the focus on Yuuri. This has helped. I finished the two Bucky-Darcy stories, and I’ve gotten back to writing “Sixty Impossible Things.”

#goldensillydragon #fic by wynn #ask #fic #blackfrost #long post

[writerman]

Request- Damien Bloodmarch

This is for @spaceviking who sent a request as I was heading to bed last night, it was a request for Damien and a traumatic hair cut. It was going to just be some headcanon bullet points but I couldn’t bring myself to do just that.

Guys, if there is anything that makes you uncomfortable let me know and I can tag it appropriately.

- - - - - - - - -

His heart thumped in his chest, so hard it could have ruptured in his chest then and there, but Damien didn’t pay attention to his hammering heart, he could scarcely feel a thing aside from total fear and absolute humiliation. Throat raw from screaming as he twisted in the grip of several others.

                                                 ~oOo~

Friends- that was what they had called themselves, old friends from college, those who he had barely known but they had recognised him while he was out grabbing dinner for himself and his son after work. Nothing unusual about himself, his hair was tied back, purple polo shirt and name tag, it had been a late shift at the shelter- Lucien had finally decided to message him and tell him he wanted spaghetti for dinner. Typical teenager waiting until the very last moment to make a decision. He had thrown the grocery bags into his car when he was approached by two men, they seemed familiar, with smiles and open hands they had introduced themselves as friends of his from college, Damien admitted he did not fully remember them, but they had insisted they’d had classes together. Which classes he wondered, but he paid no mind to the nagging apprehension at the back of his mind. “I’m so sorry, gentlemen, I honestly don’t remember you both that well, perhaps time has changed us too much?” ”Well, you haven’t changed all that much, you just have much longer hair.” One had said still smiling, eyes lingering on Damien’s long hair as he spoke, predatory but not quite unsettling. Feeling, somewhat, uncomfortable he moved to say his goodbyes but as he did so one of them invited him to grab a quick coffee, or a drink, one drink wouldn’t hurt. It sounded like a genuine request, it had been years since he’d spoken to anyone from college, perhaps they truly wanted to catch up with him?

 It wasn’t until they led him past the last coffee shop and bar on the block did he believe something was, perhaps amiss. However, he chose to give them the benefit of the doubt, some people were good at finding little places off the main street with good food and good prices. Damien was not one to disregard a place just because it seemed a little dingy.

 Sunset had been and gone and now they merely walked down a dark road past an old industrial estate with warehouses and factories lining the grey concrete, closed and locked up for years now sporting vivid graffiti like scars.

 “Fellows, I believe we shall find nothing down here but empty buildings. Let us turn back?” Damien’s request was point blank ignored as they walked through the industrial estate towards a solitary warehouse at the end. A shudder ran through him, he felt unsafe... What men wandered through such places?

 'You are a fully grown adult, Damien. You can leave whenever you wish to!' The internal argument lasted a few minutes, he stopped walking this caught the attention of the others who seemed agitated by this.

 No longer did they hide their ire when he finally spoke.

 “Dear fellows, this is too far off the beaten track for me, I think I’ll be heading home. Please, accept my sincerest apologies, do enjoy your night without me.” With an elegant bow he left them, as he turned away someone tugged on his shirt hard enough for him to miss his step and lose his footing falling back into a chest that seemed scarily close, strong arms wrapped around him and he was carried off, someone spoke to him but Damien could only hear the blood pounding in his ears.

 Was he going to die?

“This is just a bit of fun, Dames. Like old times just guys having fun!” This man in front of him spat out his words with a sneer, voice dripping with malice. Confusion still flooded his mind, who was this man that had taken such time to him find him- he seemed to take such joy from watching him struggle against the almost iron grip of his other captor.

 Without much grace he was dragged into the warehouse, a rusted room dimly lit by a naked lightbulb still swinging the string that had lit it had been yanked so hard it was held by a mere thread.

 Damien winced as he was thrown on to a metal bench, there were more men here than he recalled walking with, some were far more recognisable but he didn’t have a chance to say anything, thick silver tape was smacked over his mouth with enough force his head was thrown back, he struggled to pull it off, his hands moving to remove the tape, another set pull them back and were bound behind him, he wasn’t sure what with but all that truly mattered was that he was being held against his will.

 He cried out against the tape begging to be let go tears streaming down his face. His muffled voice only served as entertainment and his begging was returned with taunts and lewd actions as though none of this bore any consequence to their minds and souls.

 What could they possibly want with him, he held no qualms with anyone, yes he had argued with people about certain things but it was just passion nothing malicious... Never had he quarrelled with another to the point that a rivalry had sprung up between them.

 “We are going to have fun, we’ll give you a make over and then... Well... You’ll see.” The one that had originally approached him spoke, a voice low and dangerous, he had seemed too happy to see him earlier and now there was only a heated hatred in his eyes and Damien wondered at what point in his life had this man decided he hated him for no reason?

 There was a strange buzzing sound at his left and his eyes darted toward the noise, tears leaking from his eyes more so at the sight of the electric razor. He had no doubts in his mind what they had planned to do to him.

 “Let’s get rid of the hair first, only faggots wear their hair long.” The words hit him hard, bit into him and tore chunks out of his insides and left him feeling icy with dread. He had not heard this kind of talk before, he lived in a nice area and his neighbours were kind, he had been safe there.

 He was brought back to his cruel situation when the razor buzzed close to his scalp and his long dark hair fell to the floor clump by clump.

 How he sobbed against the tape, screamed and struggled, the bonds holding him too tight, unforgiving...

 His hair...

 Damien was not a vain man, he liked his clothes to match the era he adored it was just part of his hobby, but his hair... How he loved his hair, it was a part of his identity, he felt violated and the very fact of cutting his hair against his will nearly broke him completely.

 It wasn’t until the razor stopped and the noise was replaced with anger that Damien realised the group’s plan wasn’t going well, there was hell going on in the warehouse, howls of pain... Men yelling, and a sickening crack and thud.

 Damien thrashed left and right, trying hard to catch a glimpse of the carnage that seemed to be going on. Someone roared in pain and then it was silent.

 Someone breathed heavily some way behind him. A breathless beast by the sounds of it.

 The lights went out and Damien shrieked behind the tape, this was his own personal horror movie and he had no idea how the end would play out.

 His throat raw from screaming, this event has traumatized him to the point that even if he could speak after this he wasn’t sure he would… could…

 The room flooded with light, there was only the sound of someone still breathing heavily and the sound of a lighter flaring to life.

 A face appeared before Damien, blurry though, as he was trying to make them out through tears of fear. They reached out and gently pulled the tape from his lips. He gasped out a sob breaking out from him.

 “Damien, hey... It’s me, Calder.” Someone behind him sliced through the bonds at his wrists. Damien scrubbed at his eyes with his wrist before looking up, his newest neighbour stood looking at him with deep concern etched into his features.

 Someone snorted behind him trying to smother a derisive laugh but failed, they sounded exactly like Robert.

 “Come on, Prince Charming, quit with the heart eyes, Damien needs to get home. We’ll call the cops from his place I’ll get someone to watch this place in case anyone tries to clean it out.” Robert spoke before exhaling a lung full of smoke, he put a comforting hand to Damien’s shoulder before Calder helped him to his feet.

 It wasn’t until he tried to stand that Damien realised he was shaking violently, shock near split his bones and ate at his insides, before he knew it he was stumbling into the night air to throw up the contents of his stomach.

 Boots hit gravel skidding as Calder ran to catch up, and Damien felt his soothing hand on his back rubbing circles as he sobbed, his own hands digging into the gravel. Robert said something behind them but Damien couldn’t hear him, it didn’t matter because Calder bit back at him snapping something that sounded like- “Shut the fuck up.” But he could not be sure.

 Everything after that was a blur, Damien didn’t even realise he was home until someone lit a fire in front of him and wrapped him in a blanket.

 No one in the room mentioned what happened to his hair, no one knew what to say.

 Damien sat in silence, he hadn’t spoken since Calder and Robert had found him, his mind constantly screaming incoherent thoughts.

 His identity had been stripped from him.

#Writing Prompts #Damien Bloodmarch #Traumatic Haircut

[medea10]

My Review of Shokugeki no Soma

Soma x Nikumi: I guess you can say Nikumi got some sort of feelings for Soma. But she does brush off the feelings at times in a tsundere style. Unlike a certain other girl, at least she treats Soma a lot nicer and would even come all the way to his hometown just to help him. And she ends up helping him many other times. I know the fanbase is majority Soma x Megumi, but I feel some sort of (one-sided) connection to this particular ship. So I would like to put this at second place! Soma x Erina: Nope.

Erina x Hisako: Yeah, fine. Bitch x Bitch-lite belong together! Plus, as much as I hate Erina, she does treat Hisako very nice and does legitimately worry about her when she's depressed. So yeah, I ship this.

Soma x Takumi: Guilty pleasure. Let’s just say that this is a case of “Notice-Me-Senpai” that doesn’t end with dead corpses or anything like that. But I can dig it! AHEM: Guys, I love the concept of this story. I love the characters. And I would seriously love to one day eat some of those dishes. Buuuuuuuuut… The foodgasms! I cannot get over these foodgasms. I never knew foodgasms could get to the point of…THIS! Um…why was this needed? Yes, food can be pleasurable and exceptional. And before this anime, I thought going overboard was when I would hear characters sing about how delicious the food was. But to see people LITERALLY naked and quite possibly violated by some sort of food (including the use of honey and tentacles) is just…unsettling to this otherwise beautiful anime! I almost got my mom to watch this but I lost her with the insane foodgasms. FYI, not disgusted by it. Just felt weird is all. HOW?!: Okay, so I bitched heavily about one character doing this in the anime Silver Spoon and I'm going to do it here.

HOW ARE YOU ABLE TO LOSE THAT MUCH WEIGHT IN SUCH A SHORT PERIOD?! Isami Aldini, you're in that category of defying several kinds of logic. But then again, this is anime. I shouldn't question it and go with the flow. OVA: Side stories filled with background information of minor characters (like the Aldini brothers) and fanservice galore from some of the female characters. Because we SO needed more fanservice in this anime! END OF SEASON ONE: So the students have some time off from school for the summer break. However, immediately after this break, the students must prepare for the fall elections. This is a huge competition where each student must prepare a dish for a panel of important judges. And the one who manages to defeat everyone may become part of the school’s infamous Elite Ten. All students are split into either group A or B and only 4 students from each category may advance. Each student must prepare their very best dish with the theme of curry. So Soma and Megumi decide to do some research by going to see one of Soma’s father’s old school mates, Shiomi. There, they meet Hayama, an expert in spices. Dammit, why do you keep playing these spicy looking characters Suwabe?! And as curry does contain a vast amount of certain spices to the dish, Hayama is going to be a difficult challenge for Soma. Throughout the break, Soma and Megumi spent their time off preparing for this challenge. Megumi goes back to her hometown and goes back to her old roots for inspiration. Meanwhile, Soma spent his time back at the dorms coming up with the best curry dish that’ll blow everybody away. Now for the competition itself! Many of the faceless and voiceless characters cooked exceptional dishes but got some of the lowest scores imaginable. But then we got the minor and main cast cooking and the judges were stunned. …seriously, who saw this coming? The vivid nudity scenes were surprising, but other than that, nothing new! Anyways, Group B had some excellent dishes from the Aldini brothers, Alice, and Hisako. And that’s no surprise there. Both Aldini brothers are very talented in their work and I myself would love to eat at their family restaurant. *ahem* Speaking as an Italian! Anyways, Alice is definitely just as talented as her bitch-cousin. And Hisako is shown to be more than just Erina’s toadie. These judges were getting one boom after another. And then came Megumi. She got some surprising attention while cooking as she was seen slicing up a monkfish. As monkfish is difficult to prepare, it was interesting to see how the dish was going to turn out. Much to everyone’s surprise, Megumi’s dish was a hit. And wound up in 4th place overall in Group B. As for Group A, prior to the main and minor cast, many of the scores were abysmally low due to one judge giving 0 points. A good chunk of Soma’s dormmates were given some pretty impressive scores. Nikumi got rave reviews for her meaty curry too. But the two to look out for were Alice’s servant Ryou and newly introduced Hayama. And both of them were exceptional with their dishes. Especially Hayama who just stood out! His curry soufflé earned him 94 points out of 100 and literally the highest score from any group. Can Soma’s dish excel Hayama’s? Soma’s dish was an omlette on the outside, but inside is a fragrant bomb only matched by the taste. The judges loved it. But did they love it more than Hayama’s? The answer is some of the judges did. It’s just that the combined score for Soma was 93 (one point below Hayama). But Soma at least makes it to the next level. These students did a great job today so they go back to the dorm to celebrate. SECOND PLATE: This season continues with the ultimate cook-off with the 8 remaining contenders (Soma, Hayama, Megumi, Alice, Hisako, Ryou, Takumi, and one other contestant) to possibly become one of the infamous Elite Ten. The following competitions were the same as the ones before where it was one-on-one and the best dish wins. But tensions rise with some of the characters. Hisako suffered a devastating loss against Hayama and now feels she’s unfit to be the assistant to Erina. And Takumi who was up against a copycat and lost not only the competition but one of his prized tools. But Soma ended up helping those two out later on. END OF SEASON TWO: Soma has been doing quite well for himself in the Fall Elections by managing to knock out Alice Nakiri and a copycat chef. So now he’s in the finals and will end up fighting Alice’s assistant, Ryou or master of spice, Hayama. However, things didn’t go that smoothly with the Ryou vs. Hayama fight. In fact, the judges were evenly split on both dishes the boys made. So it was decided that the finale was going to be a three-way cook-off. The final battle between these three masterful chefs will involve a dish consisting of Pacific Saury. While Soma hit a bit of a brick wall with what to do with this dish, he ends up having help and support from his friends and dorm-mates. The day of the final cook-off, Ryou and Hayama bring their A-game to the table. Both dishes wow’d the judges and even made the president go bare-chested. Can Soma out-do these dishes? While his dish was out of the ordinary, it wow’d the judges. Leaving much tension on who would be the winner since all three boys went above and beyond with their dishes. With that said, it was Hayama that won. But that’s not the end of the season! These students now must endure Stagiaire! The students must all go to different restaurants and help them out with whatever dilemma they are facing at the moment. Soma’s first task was at a restaurant with many busy-bodies coming through during the lunch-rush. Oh and he was stuck with Hisako (aka Bitch-lite). Meanwhile, Megumi is stuck with Erina (the big bitch). But Soma and Hisako were able to help this struggling restaurant by cutting down the menu a bit and making it reservations only. Go back to what the first generation did for the restaurant. Needless to say, these two passed this test (as did Megumi and Erina). Soma’s next task in this Stagiaire was to help a fancy restaurant open.

And the one opening is the school's alumni, former Elite, and overall hard-ass, Shinomiya. While there was a lot of tension the last time after their Shokugeki, all was put to the side as long as Soma does what he’s told and doesn’t fuck up. Shinomiya is opening a French restaurant in Japan and Soma is here to assist in the pre-opening days. Even though Soma did make a few mistakes for the first few days, he shapened-up and over-achieved all of his tasks, shocking Shinomiya’s crew. The final days ended with a competition. Shinomiya’s crew were competing against each other to create a dish that would end up on his menu. And Soma wants in! Can't end this season without one last competition! And this dish was going to break Soma out of this baby slump he’s been in since losing to Hayama! His dish, even though mind-blowingly delicious to those who ate it, Shinomiya said it was too amateurish. But if he improves it, it’ll be awesome. Needless to say, Soma passed his Stagiaire and all of his friends and rivals survived their tasks as well. When Soma returned to the dorm, he came back to a big box of Shokugeki requests. And Soma made it clear that he will take on anyone if they ask him for a Shokugeki showdown. And as a surprise, Soma’s dish made it to the menu at Shinomiya’s restaurant. I enjoyed this anime. And I will gladly recommend this anime to anyone who isn’t afraid of a few…several…many nudity moments. And if you have a healthy appetite watching these kids cook up the best dishes, go for this anime! What’s next for this anime? Well…no word on a third season. But we’re getting slight hope for the next two OVAs as they introduce new characters only seen before in the manga. I’m kind of hoping for any next thing to happen would introduce Erina’s father. I know how much I hate her, but I have heard some interesting things from the manga that involve him and Soma’s father. Season one and two can be found on the usual outlets like Hulu, Crunchyroll, and The Anime Network’s website. The OVAs are currently unavailable on the streaming sites. So let’s hope the best for the Sentai release!

#shokugeki no soma #soma yukihira #erina nakiri #takumi aldini #isami aldini #shinomiya kojirou #megumi tadokoro #anime review #akira hayama #ryou kurokiba #hisako arato

[ten-summoners-fails]

Book rec

Everyone please read ‘The Name of the Wind’. It’s a great story, very well written, exciting, original and actually promising. I also love its sheer eccentricity and the fact that the story and its heroes are actually able to laugh at themselves from time to time.

Now, the rest is rather personal - as much, of course, as things can get personal on a public online platform. It doesn’t matter... I feel some strange, perverted desire to pour myself out a little bit, just as I used to do when I was younger. Who knows, it may still do me a little good.

Reading this book is a very pleasant, but at the same time also quite disturbing experience. And as days go by and pages turn, it becomes all the more disturbing.

I bought the book last Monday. The thirteenth. In a normal case, I should have finished a novel of 600-something pages, like, last Thursday if it was any good. If a book is fine, it keeps me up at night; it nags on my mind while I’m jolting my way to work across all means of public transport; it pervades my dreams. (I had swallowed Anna Karenina in three days, damn it!) ...and where I am with the book? Not even in the middle! I’m struggling with it - in fact, I’m struggling because, in a way, I’m enjoying it too much. And while I’m trying to save all the honeydrops for my eager tongue, I’m letting time slip. From a certain perspective, it’s almost as if I was horrified to turn the pages - a self-admitted goal of George R. R. Martin.

I’m aware that I had started this entry with pure praise... and don’t get me wrong, I truly like 'The Name of the Wind’. I’m sort of becoming attached to it - I’m glad I actually bought it, and didn’t just borrow or put it out. I own a tremendous amount of books, and this one is already among the “precious” pieces... but what the hell is wrong then, one could ask?

My problem can be explained with two short words: Awakening. And, Resemblance.

It happens to me quite often that people inquire about my past - you know how things are, it all starts off with the friendly banter. And while I tend not to ask too much questions, I’m usually more than willingly give chunks of truth, such as: “I spent the first 8 years of my life with a troupe of actors”. Or, “I didn’t find my place in nursery school: the kids just wanted to talk about Barbies and Teletubbies. I could read, write, recite classical drama and I have never saw a TV screen in all my life. Imagine my confusion and fear.” Or, “I have once made a bet with a fisherman on a Greek island that I could swim across to Albania. I almost drowned.” - And all the stories I have told you were true: only, I’m very good at leaving the dark parts out of them. The less pleasant parts. The not-so-entertaining parts... Pain, suffering, loss, deceptions (though part of me is still convinced that, despite everything that happened, I don’t yet know their too nature).

Everyone is convinced of the uniqueness of their own situation and obstacles, I know. Everyone has problems, I know. The gripping, numbing claws that lure you back to depression with the illusion of blissful idleness provide no excuse to lose hope - I know that as well. And whenever I’m telling my story (I mean, really telling it, from the beginning to this day; though you might need to get me steadily drunk for that), I tend to be a little dramatic about it, just as most of us would. People usually don’t hold that against me; I grew up among good storytellers, men and women who could fill a stage alone, and though I have always lacked their talent, some of the technical details did manage to stuck with me. And I have always liked a good tale.

Let’s get back to the point! Awakening; and Resemblance.

My problem with Kvothe’s tale is that I see to much of myself in it. Autrement dit, Kvothe has too much of me or I have too much of him: I don’t know.

I had to admit myself that I understand his general anger and stiffness towards the world more than I healthily should. And I also find that even if I barely even hold a morsel of his wit and talent, I have been treated the same way quite often. I have been wronged quite often, and I know what it’s like. I know what it’s like to admit yourself that the revenge you seek is meaningless, and beyond your power. I know what it’s like to hate yourself because of an ache that should be still sharp and shrill, but has dulled too quickly. I know what it’s like to see the world fall apart around you. I know what it’s like to desperatly cling to the last few pennies you have. It seems like the only thing Kvothe knows and I don’t is the feeling of downright burying your own parents - and maybe that of starving.

Still, that’s WAY TOO much resemblance, wouldn’t you say? Even physically speaking. While reading, I remembered what was it like with the troupe. I remembered smells, colours, laughter, fake tears, my parents in masks that made them unrecognisable, a few lines from here and there, ‘Fiddler on the Roof’ mingling with ‘Tartuffe’, child’s says, strange lights, applause, beer and wine I wasn’t supposed to drink, “oww-s” and “aww-s” and “eww-s”, Midsummer Nights (which we celebrated), whistle and cheering, and the laughter of the audience... and all thse sensations - just as described in th book - opened several doors in my mind, doors that should have probably been left closed and (poetically speaking) barred with iron.

...which means I also remembered how everything had fallen apart at its time, and how my childish mind had tried to sew the pieces back together during great journeys, stuffing the holes with entirely new impressions. And I remembered the new sort of life that came afterwards - everything, that was more or less normal, more or less like a young teenager’s life should be (at least, period); everything and everyone who had failed to strip me of the unknown, gloomy-looking past that has always lurked around me like a cloak sewed from fog - impossible to put a finger on it, but still dark and dense as a stormcloud.

I could be around 12 or 13 when a friend once told me that I was living in my own world, and entirely: far away from all others, in my carefully bared castle. She also told me that I appeared perfectly content that way, and in peace, and she envied that. I had laughed half-heartedly.

We all use our imagination as a shield when we are kids. My shield was huge and shiny, and no sword or axe, not even the shards of reality could crack it. Nothing could. It was perfect. Imagination is hard to grasp, but I have always been quite good in recreating reality in my head. I was able to recreate smells, sounds, feelings, sight, the touch of something. I could (and to this day, still can) bring tears to my eyes with a single thought. I could just randomly start speaking and end up telling an adventorous tale for three hours. I could wander the woodlands alone, pretending that I was my own prey and own suitor, and I had to catch myself. I had played several dozen characters for the same time in my had, and we had interesting conversations: conversations I could later write down if I wanted, from the first letter to the last. They stayed with me. Stories and tales flew from my hands whenever I sat down to write, and I always had a song in mind. Believe me or not, I even found an old lute no one needed or used, and I taught myself how to play a few melodies. (According to some scarce recordings, I have always been terrible, but I was a kid, and it botherd me little. I had more the air of a bard with that lute in hand - and after all, in my childhood memories, I live as a master of singers).

As I grew older, though, the power of my imagination began to dull a little. It became much less - well, wild, much less physical; I felt more and more eager need to write my stories and not just act them out as I used to. I remember myself collapsing in the middle of my mother’s garden (after the apocalypse of my old life, already) and crying so hard it mad my whole body shake because I wasn’t able to reproduce a vision as clear as intended. That was some sort of a breaking point, and since then, I've been steadily losing my imagination. As time passed, I have come to terms with that, considering it an inevitable trait of growing up. With time, I have downright forgotten what these imagined sensations have truly felt like... until the moment Kvothe’s story brought them back.

I was sitting on the tramway, going to work, and - suddenly I wasn’t going anymore, I was just in the story. I can’t explain it more clearly, and you’ll probably think I’m crazy, or some sort of a huge nerd, or simply acting out. I’m not. My imagination - that of my childhood - suddenly returned with all its force, and crushed down on my mind like a steady wave of tunder. Nothing remained, but the reconstructed reality of what my mind’s eye was seeing. The sensation was so overwhelmingly wonderful I completly forgot to get off that goddamn tram and was truly and entirely late from work. Still, I couldn’t care less. I got what I have always wanted. My imagination had returned!

And it was frightening.

I’m now experincing the dark side of this sudden, newly rediscovered power: I have changed, and therefore so has my imagination. It is darker. I am darker. It can be frightening and unsettling. It can steal my sleep. Still... my consciousness is sharp. I feel like I have been awakened from a mindset of disturbing sleep: from the mindset that others have poetically bestowed with a complicated Latin name that stands for a certain kind of depressive disorder.  But I have always known better: I know that I have seen too much, that I’m too young and I have also told too much of myself in this blog entry that no one will read this far: still, I have to repeat myself: I could not care less.

Since I have understood all of this, I’m a bit wary of returning to Kvothe’s tale, but the book is like a magnet, and I carry it with myself wherever I go.

If you have got this far, you’re a hero, truly. I mean it.

...and my chest suddenly got somewhat less heavy.

#personal

[thaliaanddestiny]

Home Is In Your Eyes-”Hurt.”

“Draco Malfoy is coming to stay in our safehouse,” Tonks explained slowly, “He’s defected; he’s one of the banished.”

“Hurt”

THALIA sat on the small white couch, staring at the posters of herself on the wall above their TV. She shook her head once in amusement before downing the last of the wine bottle and letting it drop behind the couch. Tonks and Andromeda were around here somewhere, plotting some crazy plan they’d tried to clue her in on, but she had dismissed them when she said she had wanted a nap. Of course, she’d ended up wiping out the last of their wine, and was halfway through the last bag of chips. This curse made her insanely hungry, and the best part was, she couldn’t gain any weight.

That was looking on the bright side. It was the only bright side.

She reached into the bag again and pulled out a handful of Lay’s originals to shove in her mouth. She distantly heard the door open but didn’t move to assess the situation like she once would have. Instead, she rolled her eyes and shoved the handful of chips down her throat, flinching when a good chunk of it fell down her top. She groaned and sat up to fish it out, noticing that Destiny had entered with a good looking man at her hip. A whiff their way and she could tell he was a vampire; different than her, but a vampire nonetheless. Underneath that stench, she could also smell the blood running in her best friend’s veins. The tingly feeling in her face appeared again, and her throat felt as if a hot iron was being placed against it. She swallowed a deep breath and the feeling went away.

“Didn’t want to turn on a light?” Destiny asked, definitely annoyed by the tone in her voice. She snatched the empty wine bottle from off of the floor and made a choked sound of disgust before heading into their adjacent kitchen. Thalia hurriedly stood up and shoved the remaining chips down her mouth, eyeing the attractive man curiously.

“Didn’t feel particularly inclined to burn,” Thalia responded sarcastically. Destiny could tell by the note in her voice that it hadn’t been a particularly good day for her friend; she only hoped Thalia hadn’t been reliving her past all day.

“The light won’t burn you,” Destiny heard Damon scoff. He moved closer to Thalia with the bag in tow, fingering a yellow jeweled ring and handing it to her. “And now, not even the sun can.”

Thalia eyed the ring. She couldn’t deny the rush of happiness that flooded her body at the thought of being out in the sun once more. It had been a year since she had been able to. She had missed it. She didn’t waste another second before putting it on her right hand and running out the front door. The sun was low in the sky, but it was still there. Thalia basked in it, closing her eyes and feeling it warm her face. For the first time in a long time, she felt something close to happiness.

“I brought you some other presents,” Destiny’s voice broke into her thoughts, distracting Thalia from the outside world. Destiny stood in the doorway of their house, and Thalia smelled it before she saw what she was holding. A blood bag, opened. She didn’t waste a minute in rushing back inside the house, passing Destiny and clutching the cold blood. She had no shame as Destiny and her new man friend watched as she devoured the contents of the bag in seconds.

Destiny hated that; she hated seeing her friend like that. It was a little frightening to see the black veins that appeared under her eyes when she was hungry and when she fed. It was unsettling when her eyes turned a demony black. At least it was a telltale sign that she was losing control, and really the only one they had. That didn’t mean she had to like it, though,

When Thalia was done feeding, Destiny took the bag from her and Thalia’s face returned to normal. She eyed the empty bag when it was taken away, though, until the man nudged her and diverted her attention.

“I’m Damon Salvatore,” he introduced, not seeming awkward at all. “And you have absolutely no control.”

“Why the hell would you invite another vampire in?” Thalia turned to Destiny instead, enraged. “I can hardly control myself; and he’s immortal! He’s strong, and fast, and--”

“In control of myself,” Damon interrupted, entering back into the conversation. “I’m here to help you learn to be a vampire.” Thalia frowned at that and glanced over to the backdoor. A few seconds later, it swung open and the two half-witches entered the house. Thalia didn’t think she’d ever get used to hearing things more clearly than other people; of course, she didn’t think she’d get used to any of this. It’d been a year and she was still struggling. It’d been a year, and she still was a vampire without her magic. She was no one.

Well--not no one. She had been top in her classes everywhere, and in order to stop older witches from suspecting anything, Thalia had declared that she wasn’t going into any magical profession. Instead, Destiny helped her focus her efforts on more trivial talents. She turned her into a singing sensation, and she was now famous amongst most half-witches and Muggles. She didn’t really like it--she wanted to work with the half-witches in destroying Voldemort more closely--but she didn’t exactly have a choice. She needed to be able to make some kind of living, and this was the best way to do it. Drunken concerts, Muggles easily compelled if it got out of control. And fame. Fame made her enough money to last two lifetimes.

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” Tonks chastised when she came into view in the living room. Her hands were cradling her pregnant belly and Thalia closed her eyes, listening to the two heartbeats syncing with each other.

“She stayed up to get drunk,” Destiny ratted on her, shooting her friend a glare. “I don’t know why you’re surprised at that, Tonks.”

“I’m not,” Tonks responded, giving Thalia her own disapproving glare when she finally opened her eyes again. “And who is this, Destiny?” Damon gave her a smirk, and Destiny wondered if he tried to charm everyone everywhere he went. It annoyed her, and she couldn’t say why.

“Damon Salvatore,” he introduced once again, sizing these two new figures up. He’d been promised safety, but he didn’t actually care that much. He was glad he was in England, miles and miles out of Mystic Falls. That’s what he cared about.

“A vampire,” Thalia growled pointedly, moving past Andromeda and Tonks to enter the kitchen. She looked around desperately for anything with some meat, to no avail. She’d eaten it all earlier.

“I noticed,” Tonks acknowledged, seemingly okay with the whole situation. Destiny sat on the white couch and Damon joined her. Her heart jumped a little, but she pushed it away, blaming it on the fact that they hadn’t seen anyone of the male gender in a few weeks, and they hadn’t seen an attractive one in a few more.

“Listen, we need to talk to you girls,” Andromeda cut in, gesturing for Thalia to come out of the kitchen. She complied with a whine, but nonetheless planted herself in the loveseat to the right of the couch, fiddling with the ends of her pants and pretending she couldn’t hear the blood running through their veins. “As you know, witches and wizards everywhere are preparing a war against Voldemort.”

“Harry Potter and his two friends have run off in search of Horcruxes,” Tonks interrupted, to which Thalia straightened up curiously. Damon bit his lip in confusion, and Destiny watched Thalia skeptically. The two girls had met Harry Potter and his friends six months ago when they moved their safehouse to London. They were being harbored with some others in a different safehouse not too far from this one, and they’d grown close to them. They’d learned of all their adventures, stories, and backgrounds. Thalia had hung on their every word, because if she didn’t focus on something other than her life, the urge to hurt herself would get stronger. She memorized everything about Hogwarts. The four houses, the people, the enemies. She knew all about Voldemort and Harry’s life. She knew about the Death Eaters in detail. She even knew about Draco Malfoy, the Golden Trio’s schoolboy enemy, who turned himself into a Death Eater and became their actual enemy. She felt their hatred for him reverberate through their bones, and couldn’t help but echo it in herself.

“Are they safe?” She asked in response, feeling it was a valid question for her to ask.

“We don’t know,” Andromeda admitted, “But that isn’t the point; do you remember when we told you about Slytherins, and how some of the kids joined Voldemort’s forces?” The two teenage girls scowled in disgust at the thought before they each forced out a nod. “Well, not all of them did. There are a few of them who would like to fight on our side, and because of that, their parents and the Death Eaters are hunting them down to force them or kill them.”

“What does this have to do with us?” Destiny finally asked, fearing where this might be going. Tonks and Andromeda shared a look before turning back to the two girls.

“They’re called the Banished,” Tonks replied. “And they need a place to train and to stay. We thought...well, we thought that if maybe they stayed with us, they would see how much everyone has sacrificed. And that life goes on, even when everything you thought you knew--”

“Changes,” Thalia interrupted, knowing they were talking about her. “Okay; let them stay.” Destiny muffled a disagreeable noise and Damon had his attention focused on her.

“With all due respect,” Destiny interrupted, ignoring Damon’s stare, “I really think we should discuss this a little further.”

“Look,” Tonks said, eyeing the two girls, “They’ve been staying with Lupin, but since he’s going to be here to search Thalia’s memories and help her, they have to come with. It’s only logical, since Lupin is the only person that they trust.”

“I still don’t know--”

“You already invited another vampire in,” Thalia butt in, giving Destiny the look, “What’s a few teenage half-witches? If they get out of line, I’ll just drain their blood.”

“Before you attempt to heal them and then kill yourself,” Destiny hissed back, “The less people who know about the curse, the less danger Thalia will be in.”

“I’ll be fine,” Thalia moaned.

“Plus, I’ve cheated death tons of times,” Damon interjected, “I can handle a few teenage dicks.”

“Language,” Andromeda warned, to which Damon just smiled. Everyone seemed to turn their gaze on Destiny then, who eventually just sighed.

“The second we even suspect that one of them will foil the Order’s plans, or step a toe out of line--they’re gone,” Destiny growled finally, shooting her best friend a glare. Thalia broke into a wide smile, knowing that without saying it, Destiny had told her she trusted her to handle a strange situation. Damon shrugged beside Destiny, moving a little closer Thalia noticed, and smirked again.

“So is anyone going to fill me in on what you’re all exactly talking about, or…?” He asked, sarcasm practically dripping off of his tongue. Tonks and Andromeda turned to him and Thalia stared pointedly at Destiny, who groaned.

“Why?” She questioned, desperately asking Thalia for help with her eyes. “Why do I have to?”

“Because he’s known you the longest,” Thalia shrugged, taking a mug off of the coffee table and sipping who the hell knows what was inside. “And therefore, likes you the most.” Destiny wanted to argue that point as her cheeks flamed, embarrassed. She immediately chastised herself; there was no reason for her to be embarrassed. Thalia had a point, and even though she clearly meant an innuendo in there, Destiny knew it wasn’t anything other than a civil partnership. And she intended to keep it that way.

“How much do you know?” Destiny finally contended, turning her body to face Damon. Their knees accidentally bumped and Destiny swallowed awkwardly while Thalia unsuccessfully stifled a giggle.

“I know who Vol--” Tonks and Andromeda coughed loudly and uncomfortably. Damon rolled his eyes and continued, “You-Know-Who, then. I know who he is. I know the gist of Harry Potter’s story. I don’t know what the hell a Slytherin is, or what the Order is. Death Eaters work for the Voldy, right?” Thalia laughed out loud and Destiny shot her a chastising look before turning back to Damon.

“The Order are the people against You-Know-Who, essentially,” Destiny explained. “Slytherin is like...a category of students, in a way. There are four at Hogwarts, and Slytherin’s are the ones whose parents are most likely Death Eaters. One of them, Draco Malfoy, has a father who has been a Death Eater for as long as he’s been alive probably. Draco himself took the Dark Mark last year and let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts.”

“About that,” Andromeda intervened.

“He was supposed to kill Dumbledore, but failed his mission,” Destiny went on, not hearing Andromeda’s interruption, “So Severus Snape did it. No one has seen the two of them since; but they’re no doubt plotting all of our murder’s.”

“Destiny,” Tonks growled to get her attention. Destiny jumped, having gotten lost in her story and maybe slightly in Damon’s eyes. “We have something to say.”

“What’s going on?” Thalia interrogated suspiciously, sensing that something was off here. Tonks and Andromeda shared a look, which prompted Thalia and Destiny to share their own. They both rose from their seats and Thalia walked across the room to face them. “Andromeda, what haven’t you told us?”

Andromeda took in a breath, and seemed to be a bit nervous as she said, “Well first of all, Lupin and the three Slytherins are arriving tomorrow.”

“While that’s a little off putting, I have a feeling that’s not what you’re afraid to tell us,” Destiny cut in, looking all ‘no-nonsense’ like she so often did. Thalia skeptically moved her gaze back to Andromeda, who looked extremely guilty.

“It’s not,” Andromeda admitted, taking a deep breath. “One of the three Slytherins is Draco Malfoy.” The air seemed to leave the room after that sentence and the first one to speak was Thalia.

“You lost me,” she muttered, “What did you just say?”

“Draco Malfoy is coming to stay in our safehouse,” Tonks explained slowly, “He’s defected; he’s one of the Banished.”

[robertkstone]

2019 Genesis G70 First Drive: Image is Everything

Rumor has it that the traditional four-door sedan is in the throes of a prolonged death spiral, squeezed into irrelevance by crossovers on one end and EVs on the other. But apparently Genesis hasn’t gotten the memo. Although its own SUVs are right around the corner, the 2019 G70 comes ready to stake a claim in the still-breathing entry sport luxury sedan market on its own terms.

It’s a risky yet necessary gamble on the part of Genesis, which launched about three years ago as a standalone luxury brand above parent company Hyundai. With the G70, Genesis is aiming straight for the middle of a crowded pool filled with German and Japanese competition.

The G70 looks to stand out by straddling a line between athleticism, refinement, and elegance. As if that weren’t enough, the Genesis also tries to deliver an authentic character, as well. So in reality, it’s less of a straight line and more the challenge of a classic Venn diagram. It is possible to achieve all four qualities without compromise?

Visually, the G70 certainly looks the part, especially out back. The sedan neatly sidesteps the ongoing trend of a horizontal taillight treatment that seems interchangeable at a glance from one car to the next. Instead, the G70 sports shapely clusters reminiscent of the Rock of Gibraltar, enhanced by horseshoe-shaped LED bars at the edges. From the rear and sides, the G70 exudes a confident, muscular stance. More like this, please.

The front end is less successful, bowing to the very themes it studiously avoids elsewhere. Despite the angry angles and sporty stance, I can’t help but think I’ve seen all of these design cues before. All that seems to vary is the shape and size of the grille from one make to the next.

At least the interior follows through on the promise of purposeful simplicity. Three large, round knobs provide dedicated control over the dual-zone climate control, with seat heating and ventilation buttons nestled between each one in logical formation. Just above that are eight buttons tied to the infotainment system, bracketed by volume and tuning dials on either side. Clean, simple, easy. But although the 8.0-inch screen is responsive to touch (even while wearing gloves), it could benefit from some kind of redundant input. My hand tends to fall to the circular Drive Mode controller where I instinctively twist it to select a menu, only to adjust throttle and steering programs instead.

But despite the presence of Drive Mode, Genesis is opting for an overall less-is-more approach with the G70. Albert Biermann, head of vehicle performance at Genesis, avoided the temptation to pile on a litany of tech to achieve basic handling and performance goals. Instead, his team’s focus was to nail the fundamentals. Biermann insists that all the “fancy options” competitors offer tend to go largely unused and unnoticed by most customers, even if having those features implies an enhanced level of performance. “Maybe it is a bit more of a challenging route,” Biermann concedes, “[but] we have a different strategy.”

That strategy pays off. The G70 has impeccable road manners and no tactile sign of a tradeoff, even on the base model. On some of Maine’s more neglected roads outside of Portland, I find myself pointing the G70 toward visible imperfections just to see if I can unsettle the suspension. Bumps are absorbed and dispatched with little drama. There’s just the right amount of feedback through the wheel, neither too jittery nor too isolating. Refinement and elegance: achieved.

Athleticism arrives in the form of a 365-hp 3.3-liter twin-turbo V-6, with 376 lb-ft of torque coming online as early as 1,300 rpm and sticking around until 4,500 rpm, generating robust midrange punch. Even a slight prod of the throttle summons a suitable swell of power on demand, generating more than enough speed. Genesis estimates a 0–60 time of 4.5 seconds. Standard 13.8-inch Brembo discs up front and 13.4-inch vented rears feel firm and confident, even after repeated stabs to the pedal at high speeds.

Stepping down to the 2.0-liter turbo-four is a bit of a compromise, but not in terms of refinement or character. Its numbers are noticeably lower, with 252 hp achieved at a lofty 6,200 rpm and 260 lb-ft found from 1,400 to 4,000 rpm, but keep the revs up and it’s a willing partner. Have some patience from a start, however, as it doesn’t have the same off-the-line punch as, say, the 2.0-liter fours found in Audi’s A4 or the Mercedes-Benz C-Class. There’s a pronounced, agonizing lag before the turbo finds its spin and breathes life into the cylinders.

Both engines are mated to an 8-speed automatic which delivers shifts without drama, and there’s even a mechanical limited-slip differential (standard on 3.3T and 2.0T manual, optional on 2.0T RWD). All-wheel drive can be had on either engine. Feeling a bit rebellious? Engage Drift Mode on either drive system and light up the rear wheels in a cloud of rubber vapor.

Of course, the true ace-in-the hole can be found in the 2.0-liter G70 Sport model, which comes standard with the aforementioned Brembos (but at all four corners) with upgraded pads, and an enhanced exhaust system. Oh, and—get this—a stubby lever in the middle of the console, connected to an honest-to-goodness six-speed manual transmission. Throws are light and direct, and the transmission helps to make the most of the 255 horsepower under the hood—3 hp more than you get with the automatic.

As welcome as this powertrain combo is, it also begs the question: why devote a significant chunk of development dollars to an option with so few takers? If the four-door sedan is truly on its way out, it’s the manual-equipped one that is certainly leading the charge toward an inevitable demise.

In a word: authenticity. The decision to develop a stick wasn’t solely based on sales numbers, but attracting bona fide enthusiasts to the brand. Genesis identifies true enthusiasts as the ones most likely to own and modify their cars, which makes things like the standard suspension and turbo four ripe for factory and aftermarket upgrades. One can only hope that Genesis carries this spirit of authenticity down to the dealer level, where its support will be needed most.

Despite Biermann’s shade, there are fancy options to play around with. Get the adaptive suspension option if you must on automatic-equipped models, but it’s really not necessary to hustle the G70 with potent alacrity around corners. On models without the adaptive suspension, Drive Mode adjusts parameters such as throttle and steering response as well as adjusting the sound enhancement profile. And here’s the great thing: sound enhancement can be turned totally off. I’m going to file that glorious choice under authenticity as well.

As good as the G70 is right out of the gate, it doesn’t live in a vacuum. The Audi A4 continues to be one of the best cars in its class, and BMW is readying a new 3 Series for next year. There’s also the Alfa Romeo Giulia, our 2018 Car of the Year. But Genesis is also coming loaded for bear with service perks that includes complimentary maintenance and annual map updates for the first three years of ownership.

Is there room for improvement? Sure. The manual version has a weird dip in power at the end of clutch engagement during first-gear starts. Genesis claims it’s a feature, not a bug, promoting smooth starts. This goes against the enthusiast philosophy and hopefully it can be switched off in future versions. The nice quilted seats could benefit from extendable upper thigh supports, and a true manual mode on automatic-equipped versions would be welcomed without having to turn off the traction control completely.

A few variables still hang in the balance, such as when the G70 is going on sale here and how much it will cost. Expect to pay around $35,000 for a base 2.0T, and more than $50,000 for a fully loaded 3.3T AWD model.

Given the importance of the segment (and the fierce competition), Genesis has one chance to make its impact felt. And we’re happy to say that for the most part, it’s succeeded. If Hyundai’s luxury arm can nail this whole image thing—and given the talent involved, there’s a good chance it will—the G70 will be instrumental in establishing Genesis as a luxury brand with a distinct identity.

#IFTTT #PerformanceJunk WP Feed 3

[vileart]

Dead Dramaturgy:Daniel Thackeray @ Camden

Scytheplays Ltd presents

The Dead, Live by Daniel Thackeray

Sunday 11th February 3.30pm, The Etcetera Theatre

Manchester-based Scytheplays Ltd, the company previously responsible for fringe theatre genre hits like the stage adaptation of 2000AD’s The Ballad of Halo Jones (“The greatest and most honest interpretation of an Alan Moore comic” – Forbidden Planet) is thrilled to be part of the first-ever London Lovecraft Festival with a one-off performance of The Dead, Live.  In development for ten years and initially developed through the Oldham Coliseum Theatre's New Writing programme, the play is a new and unique take on the theatrical ghost story, and has gained much popular acclaim on its previous appearances at fringe festivals around the country (“Intimate chills for fans of postmodern ghost stories” – Starburst Magazine).

What was the inspiration for this performance?

I’ve always loved ghost stories and films based on ghost stories, and I wanted to add my own.  But I wanted it to be for the theatre, and I wanted it to be powerfully theatrical.  

Ever since I was a kid I’ve loved theatre and the transporting, imaginative quality of it, and I had an inkling that it might be the ideal medium for a tale of supernatural terror.  All theatre has a slightly uncanny quality to it – that sense of being in the same room as, almost able to touch, fictional characters – and I thought if you emphasised this for horrific effect, you could deliver a real thrill for the audience.

Having said that, I started writing the piece a decade ago, and soon stopped – because I saw The Woman in Black!  It’s an obvious reference point when you’re talking about stage ghost stories, but I had just never seen the stage version, although I’d read the book.  The Woman in Black has kind of come to define what the stage ghost story is, and for a while I just couldn’t see how I could do better than that.  

My piece, The Dead, Live, was even structurally kind of similar.  So I gave up on it.  But, after a long time, I realised that my piece actually had the potential to be something quite different, and to be uncanny and frightening in a different way.

The Dead, Live is a modern-day piece about a popular ‘psychic medium’ called Lawrence Dodds (played by the brilliant Howard Whittock). He’s a very modern figure who does public ‘reading’ shows – a little bit Derek Acorah, Colin Fry.  And he’s very much a fake, using plants in the audience to make his psychic abilities look real.  

The play begins as he is training up an actor called Rachael (Carly Tarett) who is going to be a plant in the audience watching his latest show, so we get a big discussion – with some tension, as these are two characters who have never met before and are forced to quickly develop a working relationship - about how the fraudulent psychic’s techniques of misdirection and cold reading work.  And from that point, we go into the live show itself.  And hopefully things don’t develop as expected.

When I was thinking about what may really lie beneath the surface of the fakery and manipulation of the stage psychic, I took inspiration from a number of writers – Nigel (Quatermass) Kneale, Christopher (Scream and Scream Again) Wicking and HP Lovecraft.  The unsettling dread of Lovecraft’s ‘cosmic horror’ was something I felt could really lie beneath the surface of Lawrence’s world.  And so I’m very pleased and thrilled that we we’ll be performing at the first ever London Lovecraft Festival!

Is performance still a good space for the public discussion of ideas? 

It absolutely is. In the age of social media, ‘public discussion’ seems in large part about people making snap judgements and attacking each other instantly and with great vitriol.  But performance allows the speaker more time to set out their stall, to work through their ideas, with no less passion and precision.  The discussion happens in the bar afterwards, or on the way home, and it’s possibly a better discussion because good theatre is good art, and therefore a more thoughtful and inspiring way to explore ideas than a soapbox.

How did you become interested in making performance?

I always have been, I can’t really remember how it started.  Possibly a love of Roald Dahl at an early age led to a love of writing, and that led to drama through school.  But over the years I’ve been lucky enough to see and be inspired and moved by many fine productions in the theatre and in film, television and radio, so for a long time I’ve wanted to study those media and make my own contribution to what seems to me to be a great tradition. 

Is there any particular approach to the making of the show?

This particular show caused a great many interesting conversations in the rehearsal room, between the director, Alex Shepley, myself and the actors.  Without giving too much away, I think the style we’ve tried to go for is a kind of intimate, semi-interactive naturalism. 

Because the main characters in the play are both performers and spend a good chunk of the show ‘in character’, and are at other points required to deal with particularly non-realistic situations, it was a challenge to keep the tone consistent.  It involved breaking the fourth wall – Alex and I agreed that it’s fine to do that, so long as in doing so you are making the drama more real, not less real.  I don’t want to say any more about it really.  Except that I hope we succeeded!

Does the show fit with your usual productions?

Pretty much.  Scytheplays is all about bringing genre to life on stage.  When I say ‘genre’ I mean horror, sci-fi, fantasy.  We either adapt for the stage genre material in those genres, or, less frequently, create original works for the stage that are still identifiably genre.  

The Dead, Live is the latter.  Those are the genres that have always inspired me, and yet they’re rare on stage, possibly because often it takes a kind of verisimilitude to get an audience to an accept a fantastical narrative, and verisimilitude isn’t something you can really do on stage.  

But I think that theatre is perfect for flights of the imagination, as long as you lead the audience in the right way.  I’m very proud that many of our shows, like The Ballad of Halo Jones or a student production of Nigel Kneale’s The Year of the Sex Olympics, have put things on stage that seemed impossible – often in tiny spaces with almost no set!  And in doing so they have transported the audience.  The direct feedback we have received from people who have seen our shows over the years has been really wonderful and it usually comments on that sort of thing.

Having said that, The Dead, Live actually is going for a kind of verisimilitude.  It’s an experiment, but one that has worked well so far, I think.  And we’re always refining and improving what we’re doing.

What do you hope that the audience will experience?

The uncanny.  A sense that they’re in the same room as something unearthly.  A suspense that they’re not sure where they’re being led.  And hopefully a sense of having been entertained!

What strategies did you consider towards shaping this audience experience?

Again, it was about whether or not we could break the fourth wall – how far we could go in terms of directly addressing the audience, how soon we could do that, whether it would enhance the atmosphere we’re trying to create, or wreck it.  Despite the talk about naturalism and verisimilitude, this play does fall into the category of supernatural fiction.  If you are dealing with that subject matter, I think there are basically two ways you can go.  You can be all style, and hit the audience over the head with artifice, effects, music and so on to bludgeon them into submitting to the narrative.  That can work wonderfully well – as a fan, for instance, of the Hammer horror films, I have no problem with that.  But the other way you can go is towards minimalism, appealing to the audience’s intelligence and imagination, so that they can be sensitive to that chill insidiously creeping up their spine.  I think we probably lean more towards that.  Or possibly dive!

Partly inspired by stage predecessors such as Stephen Mallatratt's The Woman in Black and by memorably frightening TV events such as The Stone Tape and Ghostwatch, it nevertheless charts an intriguing course of its own, inviting the audience to participate in a live psychic medium show, in which things may not be quite what they seem.

The Dead, Live is a new departure for a creative team who have in the past been responsible for more light-hearted fare. Oldham playwright Daniel Thackeray previously wrote the highly-praised, based-on-truth 1980s-set comedy drama Together in Electric Dreams, in which Sir Clive Sinclair and the future Lord Sugar wrestled over sushi for the future of the British electronics industry ("A lot of laughs and worth a trip down

memory lane" said the Manchester Evening News). Actor Howard Whittock, who plays Lawrence Dodds, the 'psychic' who knows he is really a fake, and director Alex Shepley previously worked together on the surreal comedy sketch show, The Ray Harryhausen Skeleton Orchestra. And actress Carly Tarett, also from Oldham, is well known for her comedy one-woman shows, such as Sinful and Princess Dee, which she has performed locally and internationally to much acclaim.

Although it features light-hearted

moments, The Dead, Live is something altogether more chilling. Whittock and Thackeray are both fans of horror, having hosted The Lee/Cushing Podcast on classic horror films on YouTube for the last year, and their aim here is to bring that feel to the stage.  When the play received a partial preview performance as part of Oldham Library's live@thelibrary programme in February 2017, North West End's reviewer praised it: "Mixing pathos with light humour, and tragedy with the spiritual unknown... this story certainly has, as we say in the profession, legs."  Subsequent performances at the Greater Manchester Fringe in 2017 brought universal acclaim from critics and audiences. 

“More than a match for any stage… a wonderful performance by all involved” said Quays News.  Audience member @deadmanjones commented on Twitter: “…a chilling, sardonic tale that would fit right perfectly into Ghost Stories for Christmas (or inside Inside No 9).”  While the Fictionmaker blog asserted that the play was “Quite terrifying.”

Of the piece’s appearance in the first London Lovecraft Festival, writer Daniel Thackeray says, “It was an honour for our show to be selected to appear in this festival.  To be associated with the name of HP Lovecraft – the man who, in many ways, redefined the territory of literary supernatural horror, and who is owed a great debt by every writer who has worked in that field since – is no small thing, and to have the title of The Dead, Live appear in the festival listings next to monumental titles like At the Mountains of Madness and The Shadow Over Innsmouth is a real thrill.

“I feel like supernatural theatre is on the rise, which wasn’t the case until recently. Apart from the wonderful The Woman in Black, there were so few theatrical ghost stories, despite that intimate sense of the uncanny, that you can only really get in theatre, being so suited to that type of story. The wonderful sense of being in the same room with something otherworldly.  But now, more writers and producers of theatre are emboldened to enter that realm, and often their inspiration is Lovecraft.  Even though our play has no direct connection to Lovecraft’s works, when I was writing the play, his universe of ‘cosmic horror’ was very much in my mind as something that might lurk behind the veneer of the stage ‘psychic’.

“I wanted to capture the unease present in his stories, adding to it the immediacy of theatre, the feel of the uncanny being in the room.  That element is also present, in a different way, in live psychic shows, the kind of thing that Derek Acorah does. It seemed to me that to write something which combined the two could be a real winner. Still, it took a long time to get the balance right – years and years of redrafting and rethinking in fact - but, thanks to a brilliant director and cast, I think we've finally done it. And audiences are in for something really memorable!

“It’s high time there was a fully-fledged Lovecraft Festival.  The organisers are clearly doing it out of love for the material, and they’ve put together a really special programme.”

Show taking place at:

The Etcetera Theatre

Camden, NW1

http://ift.tt/2ni3q2Y from the vileblog http://ift.tt/2DGr6sA

#Theatre #Blogger #visual art #Edinburgh Fringe #Experimental Critique

[what-soul]

Gender

It occurred to me while I was exploring the nature of this sense of yearning for a sort of “coming of age” story that I haven’t written anything about my sense of gender on this blog, something which seems to always be bubbling in the background even when I’m unaware of it. The last time I made serious notes about gender was at Sierra Tucson and soon after moving to Crownview, and was likely postponed due to needing to adjust too quickly and return to old coping mechanisms. I have an excerpt here I’ll copy from Sierra Tucson:

I’ve been thinking about gender identity as it relates to physicality and societal expectations. If I am male, I feel like that identity shouldn’t come exclusively from biology, especially concerning outliers. Thus it seems that gender as we truly define it is something more abstract; belonging to a group. But then, how is such a group defined if not ad-hoc, biologically inspired judgement? Perhaps it’s more useful to recontextualize gender as the identification with certain values. We might imagine a distant future where biological gender has been genomically removed, but people still fall into gendered categories (even a literal “man” or “woman” card, like a club membership) by taking a personality and values assessment test. But then, what are these values? What follows is a first draft from perceived societal norms and expectations:

Male:

Strength

Stoicism

Self-sacrifice?

Self-sufficiency/solidarity

Engineer

Protection

Confrontation

Direct

Outward

Honor

Female:

Elegance

Compassion

 Flexibility

Cooperation

Designer

Growth/nurturing -> support

 Indirect

Inward

Fairness

Notice that none of these are diametrically opposed; one person could have all these qualities, although such a person would be just short of perfect. These represent the values of a gender identity as well as the attitude/mindset. They are designed to fit with antiquated gender norms and are all positive qualities meant to empower any who embody them. This is not prescriptive, but descriptive, and no effort is made to make an explicit tie to biological sex. Additionally, qualities are made to be abstract. Qualities like “physical” v “emotional” implicitly dehumanize and are too close to reality to be appropriate values.

After a page of doodling I came to these values:

Strength | Elegance

Stoicism | Compassion

Structure | Flexibility

Independence | Cooperation

Protection | Support

Honor | Equality

I’m sure if I rooted through Journal 0 I’d find notes expanding this model, but I’m lazy.

Now then, I suppose I should explore my relationship to gender here, something I’m finding particularly hard to keep a train of thought about.

I can’t say gender has always been a complicated subject for me. I don’t recall having any particular interaction with it as a kid up to... we’ll say middle school. I think it really only became complicated when my asexual fetish branched out into transgenderism and the homosexual side of my bisexuality came out. I would often imagine myself as female with a male in fantasies - this didn’t so much cause me to question my masculinity as wonder what “masculinity” and “femininity” really were. In my head, the difference seemed superficially anatomical, but I got a distinct feeling there was something deeper to it.

I also questioned my gender identity as far as being trans goes, but at the end came to conclude that, for one, anatomical gender was irrelevant other than how it affects the perceptions of others and post-op transsexuals were deluding themselves into thinking physicalizing a fundamentally abstract part of their personality would somehow lead them to self-actualization. On the other hand, an easy counter-point was putting myself in the shoes of a female social scenario and recognizing that any such exchange made me uncomfortable; I didn’t like being treated “like a girl”. But then, so too did male social scenarios.

I became more and more aware of a deep discomfort when stereotypes were applied to me, such as remarking that my eating habits are “because I’m a boy”, or that I’m acting “just like a boy”. It felt wrong, alienating, dehumanizing even, not because they were technically inaccurate, but rather because they robbed aspects of my personality and placed them in a categorical identity I had no control over. For a while I felt some sense of pride when I saw how unlike the stereotypes I was, caring nothing for “football” or “cars”, but such an attitude has likely led me to my current situation; a lack of socialization with “male culture” and thus a stunted ability to make friends.

If I might go off on a tangent for a bit, I have this particular image in my head. When I lived with a friend, there was a grey cat named Sophie there. She was very odd to deal with, because it almost seemed like she didn’t know how to act like a cat. She was stiff, easily spooked, would stare blankly at toys or playful advances from the other cat, and loved nothing more than to lie down on someone’s lap where she didn’t have to move around. I’ve been told she was removed from her litter too early; essentially, she never had the opportunity to learn how to be a cat, and what resulted was this uncomfortable mess. I am that cat, “catness” being “manhood”.

Speaking of, I do remember always being incredibly uncomfortable with the word “man”, less so with “boy”, and that still seems to apply. I cringe every time I remember that I’m supposed to be a “man”. Is it fear of the expectations therein? A residual reaction to the inherent dehumanization of labeling?

I don’t think all of this is solely related to gender though; I get similar (though less pronounced) feelings when people comment on my race being causal to my personality. There’s just something deeply unsettling about people having these easy visual markers to tear off large chunks of your humanity before you can even speak.

As for my perception of the stereotypes associated with men, I suppose I should list those:

Strong, aggressive, teasing borders bullying

Smart or stupid, serious or clowns, usually overconfident

Ravenous appetite, a proclivity toward activity

Sports, cars, sex, money, fame, success

Competition, independence, invulnerable

Expected to self-sacrifice (stoicism, women and children first)

Heavy lifters, pull the weight, breadwinner, work yourself to death

Soldier, worker, grunt, slabs of meat

Big and bulky, powerful, threatening, hairy, smelly

Unrespectful of politeness (body humor, farts, burps are “funny”)

Dirty slobs, pigs or bulls, wrecking everything they pass

There’s a few societal roles tangled up in there (child, adolescent, adult, family-man) but you can get the general picture. As I write these I interpret only negatives, but it occurs to me that there’s nothing inherently negative about any of them (with some exceptions). Someone matching these stereotypes would think them either natural or even virtuous.

Uh... Back to my original motivation, exploring this sense of... disconnection or lack of finality with my gender. This feeling I can’t quite place. One that’s most strongly responded to this image:

... and others like it...

From what I can tell, the two main commonalities are “serious face” and “contrast” (young and old). The second image especially fascinates me because I can see the adult’s eyes shining through his child body. Something about that, unattainable levels of wisdom well beyond their years... I’d compare it to nostalgia, or even a longing for something to be nostalgic about.

I want a coming of age story set in elementary school featuring a main character who’s older than they appear. Am I looking for a role model? A transitional period between being taken care of and taking care of others? I want to feel small for some reason. Do I want to be masculine in the strong protector sense? I lack it as-is. Many of the things Satoru does are unthinkable for me simply because of my personality, things I wouldn’t mind doing but can’t because that’s not the imaginary self I’m roleplaying... Personality? Something to tinge what to me is a dull grey mush of a personality? Or happiness, belonging, connection, friends.

And then in anime, when I see boys shirtless

It’s not jealousy, or lust. I wish for a toned physique, and enjoy looking at theirs. But at the same time, I feel a counter-feeling of shame from wanting anything “manly” like well-defined muscles. I don’t want to be a “man”, yet I find myself wishing for just that.

I just want to be “me” without that being labeled.. Just “human” suffices, I think. (though I’ve had issues with even that...)

I keep thinking about writing some kind of story in which a girl wakes up as a boy and has to deal with everything that comes with. She’d be a kind of self-insert for me, in that neither of us knows what being a boy is like.

#gender #coming of age #philosophy #personal