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advernia · 4 years

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fic: you make home sound like a distant memory

— the pieces fray around the edges, and the center has lost its warmth. - pre-game: a somber tale about a family with crimson blood.

1: draft turned fic turned welp, looks like i'm not writing anything else till this is done oh my god, what is this hot mess even - 2: dear @ikerev-appreciation pls forgive me but uhh does it still count as a jonah week entry even if jonah shares the spotlight with his family ksjksjd;;

o n e .

"... I wish we didn't look so alike."

"But we don't! I may look fantastic, but rest assured - I pale in comp arison to your delicate, angelic features!"

His birth is a celebration, not much of the congratulations on the safe delivery of your firstborn child kind, but more of the congratulations on giving birth to a boy kind of celebration. He's a plump babe swaddled within layers of fine cotton with little hair on his head and no teeth to speak of, but people stare at him with the intensity of the summer sun and smiles painted on their faces, as if he were the grandest being they had ever laid their eyes on.

Every feature of his, no matter how tiny and yet to be developed, comes out drizzled in honey from many mouths: the fullness of his cheeks (it's not fat, how dare you, it's a sign of good health), the curves of his little lips (they're as red as rogue, how adorable), the hue of his eyes (they have the beauty of pure molten gold), and the descriptive list gets longer and longer.

The only word everyone seems to have in common is heir.

He's barely two days old and he doesn't understand what that means at all, so he starts crying.

Two years and long grueling hours later, in comes another swaddled babe: he was born at the very moment the reds and golds disappeared from the sky, and the darkness of night enfolded everyone in its embrace. In fact, that's the color soft wisps of hair on his head seem to have taken - in total, he's a bundle of full cheeks, curved reddish lips, and dark-colored hair.

The celebration that follows after his birth is a small affair limited within the walls of his home, and the only ones who take hold of him with such warmth are his grandfather and a boy with silver hair. The former smiles at the sight of a small black dot set under his right eye and mumbles something about the mark of a Clemence, while the latter just stares at him in complete awe, stars bursting forth from eyes that were wide open.

Behind the old man and the child went hushed whispers, the word insurance hanging heavy in the air.

He's barely two days old and he doesn't understand what that means at all, so he starts crying.

"You'll have nothing to fear now, for I'm accompanying you! Aren't you glad we're going together?"

"What's there to be glad about when I'm going to be stuck with you?"

Children will be children like boys will be boys.

Come spring they run around a grand forest, chasing butterflies and gathering all sorts of things like little explorers lost in an expedition. They make sure to steer and hide away from any obstacles that come their way, like those terrible women in long black skirts who shout out their names and try to lure them out with the prospect of food. The biggest evil though is the great wizard: he's super thin, has graying hair, puts a super shiny monocle under his left eye, grows a bushy mustache with its tips pointing perfectly upwards, and worst of all knows how to use two dangerous words to complete his magic spell - the names of their parents.

Summer is too hot for exploring and the heat outside makes everything sweaty and sticky and it feels gross. So instead, they link their hands together to embark in a thorough search for their grandfather within the large halls and grand rooms of the mansion - he's always in the library though, sitting by the couch near the window and reading some book. When they come in, grandfather urges them to sit and off the three of them go as a tale is brought to life in words: they emerge in battlefields, countries, and in mystical places that a man called the Queen of Hearts had all stepped on once upon a time. Uninterrupted, they venture well until lunchtime.

Fall is boring because they can't go out and under the command of their parents, the great wizard has summoned his disciples to keep them apart - they're made to practice all sorts of things, read a lot of thick books, listen well to whatever's being taught, and the disciples don't take no for an answer even if they cry and beg. It's really, really boring and sometimes when they look out the window, they think about how much better it was to spend time being an explorer or listening to grandfather's stories instead.

Winter's a bit better because even if they still go through their very boring lessons, their grandfather saves the half of the day by leading both of them by the hand to go into his room. In there they can do whatever they want, and grandfather just watches over them with his wrinkly eyes. He coughs often and spends most of the time in bed though, so before doing anything else the both of them make sure that their grandfather's all warm and cozy and has a glass of warm water ready by his bedside table.

The old man smiles warmly at them - he smiles at the young child with silver hair, whose hands were always open for a smaller one to slip in and hold onto. He smiles at the little boy with dark hair, whose hands were always searching for a larger hand to hold on to.

Slowly he closes his tired eyes and focuses on the sound of boyish laughter, filling the four corners of the room.

By the end of winter, any trace of joy that laughter has left in the mansion, in the library, and in their grandfather's room, has promptly flown away.

The young child and the little boy huddle close to each other as they stood over clumps of snow, mittened hands tightly linked together as they stared at a headstone bearing their grandfather's name.

"Why are you here? Go away, go back, go home, and don't ever think about visiting me again!"

"Your shyness is adorable as always! But you don't need to hold back for my sake - now, give me a hug!"

Things in the mansion change a lot shortly after their grandfather had gone into a deep, deep sleep.

They're pulled away from each other like how their rooms are now on separate floors. Everyday they're seated far apart from each other on the dining table, strictly forbidden to sit beside each other. The disciples increase in number and strange people visit often, eyes set on their every move and mouths always having something to say about them both. Their parents forbade them from going out unless necessary, that order becoming something sharp and biting and absolute. But the most horrible thing of all is that they're no longer allowed to spend their days in each other's company.

No more exploring together, no more searching for four-leaf clovers together. No more sneaking into each other's rooms late at night, no more reading books together under the covers. No more creeping into the kitchen to get their favorite snacks, no more midday or afternoon teatime together. No more shopping together, no more walking around town together.

No more, no more.

No more together.

The young child tries, though. He tries his best to find a way out, to slip past the great wizard and his disciples and all those strange people and their parents' rules. He especially tries his very best at night. He tries to find the best time to slip out of his room unnoticed and run across the hallway to the stairs leading to the first floor, to go down those steps and head towards the left wing, to pass through many, many doors until he reaches that one door.

The little boy needs him. He's sure that no one in the mansion know about the nightmares the little boy has, about how lonely he can get in the middle of the night. No one knows of that one doll he likes to hold at night. He bets that no one, not even their parents, know about the lullaby too; from the words to the tune and up to how to sing it properly. He's the only one who can do it. He's the only one.

He has to keep trying. He'll handle any punishment, any lecture, any scolding, any added hours of study and practice, any confinement; he'll handle anything, if only, if only, if only -

The young child's efforts eventually pay off but sadly only at nighttime, but he figures that's a start. And so he develops a habit of sneaking out of his room come midnight just to sing to the little boy until every tear has dried, until the little boy's eyes were firmly closed shut and breathing takes on its steady rhythm.

When he turns around to leave, a small hand subconsciously reaches out to him like a lifeline; tugging at his sleeve or clinging to his fingers.

The young child takes hold of the little boy's small hand and squeezes it gently.

It feels like a lifeline, too.

"You don't need to stand there! Come on, there's an empty seat right beside me!"

"Ugh, no way. I'd rather stand for five hours straight rather than to be seen sitting beside you."

The day when the young child turned eight and the little boy was six served as the universe's way of pointedly reminding them of who and what they were; of what their own family and perhaps the whole country saw them to be.

It was certainly a birthday to be remembered.

Seated at the head of a grand table and surrounded by all the grandeur money could possibly offer to an eight-year-old, there sat no young child with tears streaming down his face but there was only Jonah Clemence, the firstborn son and heir of the Clemence family's proud crimson bloodline and the future Queen of Hearts of the Red Army.

And although it was never planned for someone to sit there in the first place, seated by the very foot of the grand table was a little boy and his name was Luka.

Heir.

Insurance.

Ah -

- so that's what the word meant.

t w o .

"Remember that I'm always waiting to welcome you back home with open arms."

"... You don't need to do that any longer. I'm never going back."

Because Jonah Clemence realized that he was no longer a young child the same way Luka had accepted that he was no longer a little boy, the world and the society around them began to change, too.

Those women in long black skirts are simply maids, the great wizard and his disciples are the head butler and their tutors, respectively. People who claim to work out of respect and reverence to the Clemence family's name, but all those claims pale in comparison to the lovely clink of a coin.

The strange people who come in and out of the mansion and continue to do so were a toss of either their relatives or nobles of lower standing. Over time, there was no need to differenciate both, simply because there was no lesser evil between two parties that wore masks for a living and wagged tongues painted a shimmering silver.

The library is left untouched but the couch that their grandfather used to sit on has been replaced for something finer, something that doesn't smell of youthful adventure and heroic romances. It's gone and so is their grandfather's bedroom, the sanctuary where they tasted freedom once upon a time.

Lessons take broader shapes and extensions, demanding more attention and a sharper mind. The hilt and weight of a sword has made itself known to them as well, introduced to them by no one else but by the Queen of Hearts himself, their father.

What they used to call the grand forest was in truth the mansion's spacious gardens - the cobblestone pathways and the secret clearings they used to run through back and forth for days become unfamiliar when they stand at the center of it all and it's filled with tables and silverware, with guests sipping away at exquisite tea and specially made cakes laid out for their choosing.

The chill of winter has long left every hallway and it's already the middle of summer, but the mansion and everything else in it never grew any warmer.

"I don't want your help. I didn't ask for your help. Now leave me alone."

"Hush! Do you honestly think I would do something so heartless when I can see you suffering!?"

It was impossible for Luka to stand in the same limelight where Jonah Clemence stood, and that was alright.

Jonah Clemence was the heir after all, and he was to be the Queen of Hearts someday. He's young for now but once he grew up, he was going to be an upstanding noble and a honorable soldier, and everyone else would look up to him. He'd do all sorts of good deeds, go to places far away, win lots and lots of battles with his trusty sword at his side, and would do anything to protect anyone from evil.

But that was Jonah Clemence.

Everyone only saw Jonah Clemence but Luka could also see someone else - that's because before Jonah Clemence became the Jonah Clemence, he was first and foremost Luka's one and only big brother: he was brave for still sneaking into Luka's room at night, smart and quick whenever he would help Luka study without anyone knowing. He paid close attention to whatever Luka had to say, he was kind enough to guide Luka into reading the music notes for a violin piece. He was also patient and understanding to boot - he never got mad at Luka, ever.

But the best thing about Luka's big brother was that he didn't force himself to be perfect like Jonah Clemence was.

Luka's big brother allows himself to cry because he's so tired, allows himself to get frustrated and complain about all those adults and those tea party invitations. He allows himself to be sad because he hasn't been able to see Luka around much, allows himself to get angry because father had been very strict during sword practice. And even though he's older than Luka, he can also act so childish and lazy.

Sometimes Luka wished that everyone else could see his big brother in Jonah Clemence, too.

Because while Jonah Clemence was Luka's hero, Luka's big brother was the person Luka loved the most.

Being second son meant not bearing any of the responsibilities that came with being the Clemence heir and for Jonah, that was a relief.

The heir had to show the best of himself at all times, presenting no sign of weakness but only strength. He was someone no one could look down upon, someone who could command respect by people hearing the sound of his name. Emotions should never get in the way of the heir's judgement because once he lets just a shred of that in, people will start doubting his power and will take advantage of him immediately.

And that was just being heir.

Being the Queen of Hearts on the other hand was a legacy engraved in the heir's blood, a distinction of glory and the very purpose why he has been brought into the world. The Queen is the paragon of a steadfast loyalty to the King of Hearts, and the Queen is the only one worthy of being called the King's second-in-command. The Queen was second best to the King, but that didn't make him any lesser: he is incredibly strong, righteous, and if ever the King were to be led astray; the Queen would be the first one who would lead the King back into the right path.

Jonah wouldn't - couldn't, shouldn't - allow Luka to shoulder those burdens.

Every responsibility weighed too much, expected too much. And Luka - his sweet, oh-so-sweet little brother with the warmest smile in the world and a heart of shining gold - doesn't deserve to experience any of that. Those small ears don't need to hear constant criticism, flowery words with knives underneath, or stinging whispers. Those kind eyes don't need to see cold faces and fake smiles. That gentle voice shouldn't speak words that people expect to hear. That tiny body didn't need to feel itself breaking from the pain of all those slaps, kicks, fists, bruises and scars.

And that beautiful heart certainly didn't need to break and turn to stone from the pressure, from all the difficult things the heir and the future Queen of Hearts had to go through.

Being the Clemence heir and taking on the mantle of the Queen of Hearts are the very pillars of Jonah's life, but -

- being the older brother who would do anything to protect the world's most precious little brother was important to him too.

"Trust me - I would do anything to protect you."

"... Why are you always like this?"

Winter wasn't the best season for them, simply because it was the season when their grandfather died. When he passed away with that soft smile on his thin lips, whatever scraps of freedom they were able to savor went along with him as well; carefully placed in an ornate casket and buried six feet under the ground, nestled around a protective magic barrier for good measure.

And now their parents were giving them another reason to dislike winter.

In the dead of the night and under the light of the full moon, Luka lets out a valley of tears that stream down his cheeks and fall onto his silk bedsheets - the drops fall to the pace of skip counting, going one, three, eight, fifteen, twenty-three, and Jonah can't stop all that with just the long sleeves of his shirt. Luka's cries are hiccupped sobs; broken little pieces, strangled wails of sorrow, warbled watery pleas of don't go, don't go, please don't leave me here alone, please oh please, don't go.

Each sob is as soft as the winds that blow against the windows of the room, but each sound resonates loudly through Jonah's being - it echoes and deafens the ears, slips past all his defenses just to repeatedly stab at his skin and to seep onto every open pore, barges inside just to punch both his lungs and constrict the heart in a vice-grip that leaves him breathless.

It hurts. It really does.

When he's rendered useless, there's nothing much left to do but wrap his arms around his little brother with the hope that whatever strength he had left would keep them both steady.

But it doesn't.

When both their eyes have finally run dry, Jonah raises one of his calloused pinkies to link with one of Luka's own.

He solemnly promises that on his honor as Jonah Clemence, heir to the Clemence family and the future Queen of Hearts, he would write a letter every day to his one and only little brother Luka Clemence; no matter how busy or tired he would be by the end of the day. Whenever the opportunity presents itself and if he is also permitted to do so, Jonah Clemence would go back home just to visit Luka Clemence. Also, if Jonah Clemence would find anything interesting, just anything at all; he would make sure to bring it home so he could show it to Luka Clemence.

It's the first and the longest vow that Jonah has ever spoken. His throat is all tingly and his voice doesn't just come out right but Luka heard every last word, down to that last hiccup.

Luka squeezed that one calloused pinky firmly as he possibly could.

Jonah Clemence wasn't a liar.

Luka's big brother wasn't a liar.

So he would definitely keep his promise.

t w o .

There's this young boy surrounded by cold adults in a big mansion, but each morning

he does his best to wake and rise early to look out past the mansion's windows,

because he was going to wait for a letter to arrive.

The young boy knows he's being a bit silly because,

the letter wouldn't arrive that early!

Still, he wanted to wait.

And the young boy did wait, until the sun had fully risen up to hang in the sky -

while waiting, he went through the motions of his typical every day,

but this time, he looked out the window more often.

Someone important to him had gone away, you see -

but before that person left,

they made a promise.

Now that the young boy thought about it, that person -

he never said how exactly would he have

his letters delivered.

All the young boy knew was that after reading a letter and writing a reply,

he would secretly deliver his reply to that person,

by making use of some magic.

But perhaps thinking about how a letter would arrive in the mansion didn't matter!

That person's letter would definitely come in time,

because they made a promise.

What the young boy didn't know though, was that before that person left -

that person also made a promise with their parents,

and it was about those letters.

That person made their parents swear on their honor that the letters he would

send daily to the mansion, they would personally deliver to the rightful

recipient, who would be the young boy.

That person thought that if he would make his parents swear on their honor,

they would never dare break their word because they were

of proud crimson blood like he was.

So the young boy waited and waited,

day turned noon then night,

but he still waited.

A day passed by, then two, then three, then four -

but the young boy didn't lose hope,

he had to be patient.

But again, what the young boy didn't know was that his crimson blood parents

thought differently of the vow the both of them made with that person.

They valued something else more than a promise on their honor.

What they valued the most was that their firstborn son would do his best at the academy,

shape himself into a fine man without anything distracting him,

be it his own brother, the young boy.

The crimson blood parents, no matter how rigid they became, kept on holding onto the thought that

what they were doing, and everything they had done in the past were all

in the best interests of the family and their two children.

But even before he passed away, the children's paternal grandfather scoffed in response to seeing such methods -

he was disappointed as he said: as parents you're simply tearing two children apart,

but the crimson blood parents still didn't change their hearts.

So what became of the young boy who kept on waiting and waiting for a letter,

of the firstborn son who was sent to do his best at the academy,

and of their crimson blood parents?

For now,

let's just say that,

over time of waiting, waiting, and much more waiting -

people eventually realize that they have grown much, much older and that

they are now at least a little bit wiser enough not to wait for letters that would never come.

t h r e e .

"One day you're going to grow old and forget about me."

"Preposterous - how could I possibly bring myself to forget my one and only little brother?"

... And where exactly do you think you're going at this hour?

His fingers twitch, just inches away from the golden door handle. They're made of oak, these doors right in front of him, just like any other door in this mansion that presented itself as a home. Question, though: would a home have rooms, exits, or entrances that have such imposing doors, all tall and dark and heavy? Would a home constantly keep such doors closed, with handles that would never open because the lock had been secured and the key had been kept away? Would a home just have a door for show, and when you open it you suddenly realize that it actually leads to nowhere; presenting you no option of entry or exit?

He wouldn't know. Would she know? She always spoke in a clear-cut manner, voice having the melody of summer but words coated in the frost of winter: heat to the ears, chills to the heart. But surely enough summer and winter have turned into spring and fall - seasons change like how time flew like water, and that meant every person in the world weren't getting any younger.

He and her included.

He got it from her, the dark shade of his hair that resembles the night. But more than the night itself, time has dictated that her hair be turned into the night sky instead; a canvas of black spread with dashes of silver stars. He wished that he got the color of her eyes too: brown like the earth, brown like a piece of dark chocolate. Maybe if he had her eyes, he wouldn't be reminding people of someone else.

His fingers wrap around the door handle.

I asked you where you're going...!

Ah, winter had become fall - somehow that elevated pitch and sharp volume had less bite to it, now merely a bitter wind blowing at his back and unable to pierce any deeper. His skin, his lungs, and his heart were fine; no chilling over, what a relief. Was she already that old, or was it simply his desensitization that lessened the impact?

Whatever the case, he wasn't going to stay any longer just to find out.

He pulls the door open, and he's greeted by a rush of a cool night's breeze along with the light of the full moon.

Luka...!

He takes a few steps forward, only to close the door behind him shut. Firmly now, firmly. So that the sound would make itself known in the grand foyer, whoosh through the many steps of a carpeted staircase to reach all the way to the pretty landing; slicing through the silence like a voiceless, wordless slap to the face. Bang. Echo, echo. Did that sound like a satisfying ending to your sharply pointed ears, mother?

From that point on, Luka Clemence didn't dare to look back.

The last time he stepped into this mansion of proud marble and golden paint was in celebration of him finally taking on the name that was rightfully his. Smiles were plastered onto faces like a fine template made specifically for the occasion, the word congratulations thrown about back and forth as verbal confetti. Champagne went spinning round, resembling the skirts of the many women twirling by the ballroom floors, heels going click clack in time to the orchestra's uplifting compositions.

It was a mediocre celebration, if he would say so himself. His special guest wasn't in attendance and that made everything else less enjoyable... including the already sorry excuse of a strawberry mille-feuille.

Now, he returned for one reason, and one reason alone - he passed through the foyer, headed right, passed through a couple of rooms until he found himself standing by the entrance of the dining room. Shiny crystal chandelier, polished floors. Tasteful curtains and tapestries, carefully made carpets. A wide and stretching ornate table, chairs of finely carved mahogany with plush cushions.

Only two chairs were occupied. As he approached the table, one of the occupants turn around to the sound of his footsteps. Eyes narrow, a voice comes out unsure.

... Jonah?

Two pairs of eyes are on him now - surprise faintly wrinkles his father's brow, his mother holds a gaze that could be classified as listless. Caused by a lack of sleep, maybe?

Good morning, father, mother. Is Luka yet to wake up?

The silence that follows his question is pregnant - it's the kind that just dances around your very being, frolicking without care along your legs and atop your finely shined shoes. It giggles around constantly like a happy child until you get irritated, try to chase it, but only to miserably fail. For the love of all that's good and holy, you just want to know why it's giggling so much. Was it so hard to capture silence? Was it so hard to find the words that would stop it from frolicking around like it owned the place?

It lasts for a good two minutes before his father exhales slowly, rising from his seat.

... We'll take this discussion elsewhere.

... Your mother tried stopping him.

Something boils uncomfortably in his blood, reaching down to the very pits of his stomach as he stared at his father. It brings to mind the image of water that bubbles, rises, and threatens to spill out from its kettle prison, leaving a scalding mess its wake.

Jonah's palms land down on his father's desk, impact loud and fingernails digging at the wood.

Tried? he spits the word out with an impressive amount of venom, lips snarling at the ends, Perhaps you didn't try hard enough! You should've informed me of this matter immediately!

A growl rears its head from the back of the throat - low, booming, intimidating. Strangely enough, it's nostalgic in a most amusing manner, but -

Ah, that's right, how could Jonah forget?

Former authority figures didn't take kindly to accusations of incompetence.

Jonah Clemence, compose yourself! Is that how the Queen of Hearts should speak!?

Something in Jonah's expression twists as a crack broke his voice.

I returned here simply as an older brother happy to celebrate his little brother's graduation, not as the Queen of Hearts!

Silver mirroring silver, gold mirroring gold. Fiery tempers contesting one another, sparks flying about in the four corners of the room. Perhaps if they tried hard enough they could set the whole room alight until flames lap and lick at every surface there is to burn, breaking everything down until nothing is left but trails of ash and wisps of smoke.

And as if her figure couldn't look any more delicate than it already was, his mother appeared much smaller as she sat by the very end of the couch, a lost look in her eyes and a plain notebook resting nicely on her lap.

When she closes her eyes and lowers her head, wisps of her dark hair shield her face from the rest of the world.

It's already that very moment in time where the reds and golds disappeared from the sky, and the darkness of night enfolded everyone in its embrace.

Jonah Clemence looked up to stare at that very sky, his back facing a mansion of proud marble and golden paint. There he stands straight and tall, all alone in a secret clearing discovered by two brave explorers, once upon a time.

Carefully gripped in his right hand is an object made of cotton, pieces of it well-worn: white clothes were predominantly stained with tints of an aging yellow, two buttons of the coat about to fall loose, stitches here and there showing signs of fraying.

The only parts of it that remained presentable were the strands of dark-colored yarn on top, and a pair of golden dots for eyes.

I'll find you.

He moves his arm to clutch the doll to his chest, head still held up high.

I promise.

#jonah clemence week #ikemen kakumei #ikemen revolution #ikerev fanfic #jonah clemence #luka clemence #*loud whale noises* oH M A N ? ? ?#oof i could've done this fic more justice but i've lost count of how many edits i did #that's nothing new to me but i got frustrated so i didn't hold onto it any longer ;w;#half of that edit time was spent on forma t ting yeeHAW i got so carried away #okay so maybe doing this in the middle of a seminar wasn't a good idea L M AO #rushed this just to get it out of my system so i didn't proofread properly eeep;;;#edits & post reading notes??? shall come later... yeah maybe later haha...

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lets-party2night · 4 years

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#gayrightsyamaguchi

#haikyuu!!#hq!!#doodle #doodlepage #funny dog does an art #i dont like this image anymore after looking at it for 2 seconds but..whale #i finished season 2 today yeehaw

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leopardsealz-remaking · 4 years

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im lucky my dad has a licence to hold cetacean remains...its cool

here are bones we have:

fin whale vertebra + rib (both from same whale)

common dolphin skull

partial unknown dolphin skull

cuviers beaked whale vertebra

various small vertebrae from most likely dolphins and/or porpoises

the fin whale remains are monstrous its the 2nd largest animal on earth so even 1 vertebra is so BIG. the central part of the vertebra is as wide if not wider than my body. the rib is around 2 metres long if i remember correctly. ive carried both pieces at the same time jhdghd

#starry static #my dad does nature education at schools so he shows kids all the bones #but yeehaw whale bones are cool

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cupcakeshakesnake · 6 years

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the rootinest tootinest cowbo in the entire galaxy

Thrawn: *stares into camera like he’s on The Office*

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toxooz · 2 years

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Hi Taxooz! I’m a huge fan of Wheel-Bitten!

I adore the lore you gave for angels, but I have a question what’s the deal with demons? We’ve already seen one example from the store owner in your comic (I’m sorry I forgot his name), but how do they function in your world’s society? From what I can gather via the dialogue, it sounds like demons live on the fringe of society. Also, is there a difference between fallen angels and demons, or are they the same but with different names?

hmhm gOOD QUESTION i think since Real Angels™ are strictly up in heaven and don't go into the world physically thus not really having any opportunity to turn into a fallen angel ~anymore~ . The only time fallen angels were "fallen angels" is when, assuming in the whole biblical theories n shit, when lucifer got kicked out all the other angels that followed him got kicked out as well thus making them the fallen angels. Since this was like before all time n all that, my theory is it's similar to the whole evolution thing where the fallen angels evolved throughout time and now they're basically all demony now for example the fallen angels are to all the demons now as the pakicetus is to the current whale and all its variations currently- where hell/world is the ocean in this scenario lmfao:

Like the fallen angels possibly adapted to the separate layers of hell and the conditions of them AND since they can go on the world they possibly adapted to the locations they were in on the earth as well. Plus since the pakicetus didnt Just evolve to be like the whale currently and there’s other types of animals around from evolving differently same goes for the demons hence why they can look so different (also with having other species mixed in since like half of these are half demon):

SO that being said fallen angels are probably all dead by now and all that is mostly around are just different formed demons WHICH by the way i think that demons can have different life spans depending on what kind of demons they are. The store owner Dante (im still debating on that name solely for the store name pun) probably lived for hundreds of years hence this comment that was quite literal:

Ramsuse is cursed to live for eternity and i think Cinder is too since he’s been around for 100s of years as well, but Mangule and Ollie may live the typical 90-100 years or maybe a little longer or who knows maybe even shorter and hell there’s probably some demons that only live for like a week or so so yeah their lifespans are all over the place depending on what kind of demon and if they’re half demon what other genes they have in them 🤔

As far as functioning in society goes i think they’re kinda just like any other monster??? Dante could’ve taken 300 years to establish a good store bc he’s Just A Humble Store Owner or there could’ve been societal issues that contributed to his store not getting bigger by now since when Ramsuse got turned into a demon back in the yeehaw tingy tang cowboy days he was completely outcast and his wife was even deemed insane for trying to tell people her husband got turned into a Horrible Monster sO there were ofc some issues back then but overall today they’re just like everyone else i mean Ollie won the world skateboarding championship and lives in some suburban neighborhood pissing off all the soccer moms (probably deliberately) with all his gothery so yeah it just depends bUT yeah thats my Wacky theory about how demons work in my universe it may be Omg thats not how any of this works have u even picked up a book in uR LIFE??? but hey i pulled half of it out of my ass admittedly and it seems to work for me so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ THX 4 THE ASK!!

#ollie #ramsuse #mangule #cinder #im sure theres some very important theory or text that makes this Comepletely wrong but OH WELL #long post #oc facts

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albatris · 2 years

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the dracula daily format is expanding.... someone's doing "whale weekly" now (3 year long email subscription to the entirety of moby dick, starting december 2022) (obviously i signed up immediately)

LETS GOOOOOOO

.......I also saw a few posts gauging interest for a frankenstein read also a while back but idk if that's actually happening or not

but yeah. yeah I'm down. yeehaw

#i am going to sign up #why the hell not #also thank u for letting me know #i saw this this morning n was like ''!!!!!!'' then went back to sleep.......#now i am Back #hello

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hanadolphieron · 4 years

Text

flirt!ryujin~

warnings; swearing

genre; fluff

pairing; shin ryujin x fem!reader

word count; 1.1k

summary; ryujin comes into your diner and flusters you beyond belief

it’s only your second week on the job, and you’re already bored as hell.

despite it being friday night and the diner was packed, your amateur skills kept you out of the interesting jobs, like serving at the bar or taking orders from families with screaming children.

the bell rang as you were cleaning tables. not even sparing the sound a glance, you continued your labor.

why did you take this job again? you couldn’t even remember. all this cleaning has brain-washed you and you can’t seem to think about anything else except this vile, hopeless, pathetic, rotten, crummy, abysmal, horrendous-

“hey babe”

whirling around, you come face-to-face with a blonde. you put on your “i love everyone!” face, smile, and say “how can i help you?”

but it comes out as more of a stutter, as her words register in your mind halfway through the sentence and being called babe really throws you off.

“how could you help me? well, i came here to have a burger but hopefully i’ll be having a date too,” the girl whispers, smirking.

oh dear.

first of all, why is this chick speaking to you like the old men that shuffle into the diner and call you gross names, and second of all, why is your heart fluttering? you thought your gay panic phase ended back in middle school.

apparently not, considering the fact that you were still standing there, speechless.

“r-right away,” you say, turning around and begin to set up the table you just cleaned.

pretending like nothing happened, you give her a menu and ask “are you here alone? or is there someone else accompanying you?”

“just me, although hopefully that’ll change by the end of the night,” the blond says, winking at you shamelessly.

“employees aren’t allowed to eat during their work hours,” you say as dry and unaffected as you can.

“i’m sure they can make an exception for such a gorgeous girl like you,” she whispers.

clearing your throat, you say, “can i get you anything to drink?”

“sweet tea, please.”

“i’ll get right on that!” your voice raises a few pitches and you dart towards the kitchen as fast as you can.

“with extra sugar please!” says the girl, her deep voice projecting over to you.

you reach the kitchen. fricking frack patty cake whack. what the diddly darn dangly doodle are you going to do now.

you consider your options: flirting back would be the obvious answer, but you’re way too flustered to even attempt it. writing your number on the receipt- plausible, but cliché. doing nothing- unproductive, doesn’t help either of you. screaming in fear- hmmm no.

you decide to not make a decision at all, and go back to the table with the extra sugary tea.

“thank you, it’s just how i wanted it- as sweet as your charming smile.”

another wink.

brushing the compliment off and getting down to business, you ask, “are you ready to order, or do you need more time?”

“well, i was hoping i could have this burger right here,” the girl says, pointing to something on the menu.

leaning down over her shoulder, you look at the name she’s showing you.

it’s called “the whapping whale”. (gosh who made up these names)

“alright, one whapping whale coming right up!” you try to stand up, but a hand catches your jaw, turning your face.

brown eyes. a perfect nose. lips that are chapped but still look softer than pillows. a wisp of hair falling down into her left eye. you realize her mouth has started moving and snap back to reality.

she laughs and repeats herself, “can i have cheese with it as well?”

“of course,” you mutter, still shamelessly admiring her divine facial features.

“like what you see?”

“yes.”

shit. why did you say that. mission abort. mission abort. leaning back again, you half-sprint back to the kitchen, catching a quirk of her lips as you turn.

you hide in the kitchen until the “whapping whale” is ready. why do you have to be so awkward. “one whapping whale coming right up” what were you thinking? are you some yeehaw cowboy? coming right up? who? what? where did that come from? do you have some primal instinct to say weird things? blergh.

and then? you said yes!? who even are you. why. why. this is going to haunt you forever. say hello to waking up at 1 a.m. and remembering this exact moment.

you grabbed the stupid whapping whale burger and went to go give it to that incredibly annoying and overly attractive girl.

“why the unhappy face babes?” the girl inquired softly once you reached her table.

“oh, i just burned by finger on one of the frying pans, but i’m fine, thanks for asking, would you like anything else, i can get you some more water, we also have a desert menu, and-” you quickly lied, rushing through six sentences at one time.

“slow down,” the girl laughs a little as she interrupts you, “maybe i could kiss it better?”

“no thanks...”

the girl grabs your hands and examines them. stunned, you don’t pull away.

“which one did you burn,” the girl says, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“fine, i didn’t burn my finger.”

the girl continues to hold you softly, now rubbing the side of your left hand with her thumb. you realize she’s waiting for you to continue.

you don’t exactly want to tell her every emotion you’ve been experiencing for the past 15 minutes, but you might as well go for it.

“well, first of all, you’re flustering me and making me stutter and feel awfully light-headed and confused, then you ordered that stupid whapping whale burger, which i managed to use in a sentence that was considerably yeehaw and cringy. now you’re sitting here holding my hands and are going to get me fired for fraternizing with customers and not doing my job. and i don’t even know your name!”

you stare at her. she processes your response.

“i won’t let them fire you. my exceptional wooing skills will persuade them not to.” she winks, “and besides, you won’t need a job if you’re going to spend all day with me tomorrow.”

another wink.

she continues, “my offer still stands to kiss you better still stands.”

a wink from the other eye.

“you’re going to fall asleep with all the winking you’re doing”

“not if i’m looking at a beauty like you.”

two more winks. the thumb caressing your hand doesn’t stop.

“you never told me your name,” you say.

“yours.”

a sigh from you.

“it’s ryujin,” she says with a giggle.

you start laughing too.

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aion-rsa · 3 years

Text

Do Star Trek Characters Watch Star Trek?

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This Star Trek: Lower Decks article contains spoilers for Season 2, Episode 8 “I, Excretus.”

For Star Trek fans who worry that Lower Decks somehow doesn’t “count” because it’s a comedy, nothing could be further from the truth. Not only does Lower Decks count as real Star Trek canon it also actively explores Trek canon, constantly illuminating that what we think we know about the world of the Federation, Starfleet, the Klingon Empire, etc. The result? What we know is actually very limited by our perspective of what we’ve seen on the various live-action Trek shows. Lower Decks creator Mike McMahan has called Lower Decks a “rosetta stone” of Star Trek canon more than once. And, perhaps there’s no better example of this than episode 8 of season 2, the episode, “I, Excretus.”

Here’s how this episode lays out an entirely new way of thinking about how Starfleet thinks about itself. Does it feel like Starfleet is obsessed with the adventures of the various Enterprises? Well, what Lower Decks asserts is, maybe there’s a good reason for that.

The basic premise of this episode focuses on the crew of the USS Cerritos getting run through a series of holographic drills to determine how good the crew is at their various jobs. The bigger story is, at first, one about social class. The drill instructor — Shari Yn Yem — flips the ranks between the bridge crew and the “lower decks,” which means that each side gets to experience how the other half lives. To that end, the holographic drills that Mariner, Tendi, Boimler, and Rutherford endure are all huge ethical dilemmas, life or death struggles, or, stuff with horses and emotional plagues. In other words, the Lower Deckers do a kind of greatest hits of stories from The Original Series and The Next Generation. At one point, Mariner enters a simulation called “Mirror Universe Encounter,” in which she has to try to infiltrate the Terran Empire. This simulation is basically a remix of the TOS episode “Mirror, Mirror,” and everything Mirror Universe related on Discovery. Later, Mariner enters an “Old West Planet” simulation, which she calls “a Starfleet classic…yeehaw!” This references the TOS episode “Spectre of the Gun,” the TNG episode “A Fistful of Datas” and the Enterprise episode “North Star.” Later, Mariner enters a simulation called “Naked Time,” in which the crew succumbs to a virus that makes them, well, drunk and horny.

While it’s tempting to say that “Naked Time” is a long-hanging fruit joke that comes from 2021, the truth is, the title “The Naked Time,” refers to an episode of TOS in which the crew does succumb to a virus that makes them act drunk and horny. This episode was written by John D. F. Black and was later quasi-remade as the episode “The Naked Now” on TNG in which the crew encounters pretty much the same virus, only slightly different. (For reference, “The Naked Now” is the episode where Data mentions that he is “fully functional” for the first time. In the same episode, Data also corrects Riker about the proper uses of the words “suck” versus “blow,” relative to space problems. You can’t make this stuff up. It’s hard to believe Star Trek is real sometimes, you know?)

Anyway! The point is the simulation is called “Naked Time,” which is very close to the episode title in “our” reality. And, when we see a larger readout of all the simulations running, several, several of them have names almost identical to actual episodes of Star Trek.

Here’s an example of one prominent moment, in which we see a bunch of the simulation names…

Time Trap (“The Time Trap,” TAS)

Tribble Troubles (“The Trouble Will Tribbles,” OST)

From Q to Q (Any Q episode?)

Borg Encounter (Obvious)

Cause & Effect (“Cause and Effect,” TNG)

Natural Selection (“Unnatural Selection, TNG)

Evolution (“Evolution,” TNG)

Chain of Command (“Chain of Command,” TNG…an episode Lower Decks can’t stop referencing.)

Hero Worship (“Hero Worship,” TNG)

Carbon Based Units (Star Trek: The Motion Picture)

Naked Time (“The Naked Time,” TOS, et al.)

Now on several occasions, Lower Decks showrunner Mike McMahan has said “people on Star Trek watch Star Trek.” The best example of this is when Riker runs a simulation of the NX-01 Enterprise in the episode “These Are the Voyages…” What Lower Decks has done, since Season 1, is take that notion, and apply it more broadly. In the Season 1 episode “Much Ado About Boimler,” a Starfleet officer who has been de-aged, mentions that he is “half a Rascal” which references the TNG episode “Rascals.” The idea here, solidified by the latest Lower Decks, is that various simulations, or logs from big Starfleet missions, become public knowledge to the rest of the Federation. And, most relevantly, all of these famous adventures have names that are very similar to the ones we are familiar with. (Though, in fairness, Barnes doing a simulation called “Whale Rescue,” probably should have been called “The One With the Whales,” right?)

Later in the episode, when Mariner and Captain Freeman figure out that Shari Yn Yem is trying to screw them over, she taunts, “You’re on a California class ship, most of the Federation doesn’t even know you exist.” Now, this statement hammers home the entire point of Lower Decks, insofar as the show is about starships doing less than glamorous work. But, what gets subtly, and smartly established in this episode is that the ships that may go unnoticed, all totally model themselves after the Enterprises, Voyagers, and Defiants of the fleet.

Why? Well, Shari Yn Yem did not invent these simulations. As she reveals, she simply “goosed” the difficulty levels, to try and make the crew of the Cerritos look bad. When the crew is supposed to “steal the Cerritos and rescue Spock from the Genesis planet,” the audience (probably) knows that’s a reference to Star Trek III: The Search for Spock. Shari Yn Yem calls it a “classic,” just like Mariner called the “Old West Planet,” a “classic.” The implication here is clear. The adventures of the various Enterprises (or Voyagers or Defaints) aren’t just canonical to Star Trek fans, these adventures have been translated to other (future) media for a very long time within the Federation itself. People do know about the Enterprise in the big world of the 24th century. Even Seaon 1 of Picard proved that — in the very first episode, reporters were in Jean-Luc’s house!

Appropriately enough, this outcome might be what Gene Roddenberry intended. In the forward to Roddenberry’s wild novelization of Star Trek: The Motion Picture, Kirk reveals that he is aware of various forms in which the adventures of the Enterprise have been made available for mass consumption in 23rd century media. In the only Star Trek book penned by the creator of Star Trek, people in Star Trek apparently read or watch Star Trek. Before Lower Decks, the only examples of this meta-fiction were the Enterprise finale “These Are the Voyages,” and this vague assertion from Roddenberry in the TMP novelization.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

But now, Lower Decks has made all of it very clear. The canon of Star Trek is comprised of stories from starships that have become famous over time. Even in the egalitarian world of Trek, in the far future, there’s still pop culture, which means some space stories are more popular than others. And it turns out, the true-life stories of people on ships called Enterprise are hits with the general public. Every. Single. Time. Lower Decks airs on Paramount+.

The post Do Star Trek Characters Watch Star Trek? appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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