Gondor Calls For Aid

The Most Character Ever Blorbo Award. You could open a dictionary, look up "character" and find Ranma's face right next to it. Ranma 1/2 was the first manga I read, I was ten years old, and I felt like Ranma was showing me the world. Despite of how surreal the story was and how much of a brat Ranma was sometimes, the most distinct feeling that still comes back to me when I think about Ranma, is trust. Probably because of the can-do, ready-for-anything attitude, on top of the physical skills. At that age I think I still needed a character you could always trust to win in the end. But perhaps what set Ranma apart from all other childhood action heroes was, not only casually changing sex multiple times a day, but the fact that Ranma was unmistakably the same character, whether a boy or a girl. The series has its less than ideal messages for sure, but Ranma was still completely inspiring. So engaging that I was bummed sometimes as the end of the series was coming near, thinking I could never feel the same way about another character or series, ever again.

Turns out I was wrong, of course. I was even more invested in Inuyasha, The character and the series, from the same creator. The Most Iconic Character Blorbo Award. I think Ranma's translation ended and Inuyasha began in my country at the perfect time for me, because I started middle school, and was beginning to appreciate a more complex and serious narrative, after Ranma's slapstick comedy. Inuyasha is epic. Inuyasha is every bit the action hero Ranma is, but also has more gritty emotional realism that really spoke to me at that age. I didn't so much need a character who would never let me down, l needed someone to root for, someone who was more obviously flawed and struggling, someone I could even go through a tragedy with and accept it for what it was. Inuyasha was that. And oh man, did this character and series make me explore some difficult emotions. To this day, if I go back to Inuyasha, it feels like being in the arms of an adult you could feel your feelings with. But the thing about Inuyasha is, at the time I was experiencing it the first time, my perspective was starting to shift: it's not clear whether I'm the one being held or the one holding someone else. And perhaps that's got something to do with why Inuyasha still feels so real and special.

Too-Ticky from Moomins was a character other people said I resembled when I was in high school. Moomins are a big thing in our culture, so I think it touched me that someone saw me in that iconic tale. The first person who said so was trying to pin me down, I think, and she was considering that I was like Snufkin, but she felt like something was off about it, and then it looked like a lightbulb went on, and she said I was like Too-Ticky, "going my own way, doing my own thing" but not like Snufkin, because I was more gentle and helpful and interested in other people over solitude or wandering. Which profoundly touched me, that someone could see that, because I sometimes felt like my introversion was incompatible with my need for connection and my people-oriented outlook. But since then, watching Too-Ticky made me feel like maybe those things are not incompatible after all. Her zen definitely greatly exceeds mine, so I also think of her when I start feeling like I need to remember how to let things go. I particularly like this Too-Ticky quote: “All things are so very uncertain, and that’s exactly what makes me feel reassured” because it almost sounds exactly like something I would say, except not at all. Because the undertone is so laid-back. It's like Too-Ticky is saying "...which is why I'm sitting back" where I would say "...which is why I'm holding on". Sometimes I need more of her kind of thinking. Big Sister Blorbo Award.

Arthurian Trauma Blorbo Award. I... don't even know what happened? It isn't like I hadn't read or watched tragic stories before. But Saber from Fate/Stay Night changed my brain chemistry. I don't know why I couldn't accept the ending. But I couldn't. I. Just. Couldn't. No way in hell. For some reason Saber was a character I NEEDED to go on, in a different way than she did. So I spent a good chunk of high school single-mindedly obsessed with changing her fate. In a fan comic, that I had to forcibly tear myself away from and let go after around 200 pages, having drawn the most important thing, and too many life obligations ganging up on me. It was the first time I gave in to fan creation like that. (KagaKuro was the second.) For a good while I was carrying a folder of comic pages everywhere. I was drawing in secret in class all the time. I remember this one training camp where I would already be drawing if we had a five minute break, and I wouldn't even stop drawing while eating, I just had to use every second I got. For some reason Saber just triggered my I NEED TO SAVE YOU IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO response like no other character before or since.

The Ultimate Fantasy Blorbo Award. Howl makes me so envious. I know he's not as OP as he seems, I know it's not simple. I know he paid a great price and didn't know what he was even doing. But my God, I want, so badly, to have easy-breezy power like him. Even for a moment. Even if it's surface level. For once, I just want to know what it would be like. He can save someone by just taking their hand and literally strolling through the air with them. He can provide a bigger and better house for his family by just focusing for a minute and imagining it into existence. He can give so much so easily without breaking a sweat, obviously looking flawless while doing all that. I want to feel like that for once. YES I know there's so much sadness and pain and the danger of going too far with his magic, but that doesn't change the fact that I want what he has. That incredible lightness of power and motion and the untouchable, easy air of his demeanor. What would I give for one day as Howl? I just want to feel like I don't need to work so hard for minimum results all the time. I want to have excess power. I want to feel like I'm not absolutely spent every time I get what I want, or manage what's expected of me. Just for a moment, I want the real life equivalent of being able to stroll through the air and skip over rooftops. Physical freedom. It's gut-wrenchingly sweet to think about.

The Queer Blorbo Award. Oscar from The Rose of Versailles is relevant to SO many queer people, relatable from a variety of perspectives and identities. Don't let the glitter eyes and clunky animation fool you, this anime is amazing, and ahead of its time, it's still ahead of OUR time in some ways, and Oscar is definitely a queer icon. I stumbled upon an old video of this anime in the library when I was seven, and woah. It was magic. I definitely idolized Oscar for a long time. It was amazing having a hero that spoke to some part of you there were no names for. (Not to mention I knew that the Finnish version of Oscar was one of the names my parents had considered for me before I was born. That felt almost like an extended hand from a completely unattainable hero, haha.) Yeah, I definitely role-played as this character a lot as a child. I was just blown away by the heroics back then, but as an adult I can better appreciate how simultaneously stupid and smart, naive and mature, passionate and lazy, composed and all over the place Oscar is. A very intriguing and genuine character.

The It Could Be So Much Worse Blorbo Award. Fakir from Princess Tutu is born to write and born to do ballet, but instead his life keeps being a complete mess. His creations come to life literally and can kill the people he loves most. He has to babysit a guy who's got nothing but mindless self-sacrifice left of his soul and will jump out of a window to save a bird (without pants). His soulmate is a literal duck, who only visited life as a human girl. So... even if I sometimes fear that my writing is too much for some people I love, if I feel like I'm powerless to protect people even more powerless than me, if I feel like I can't connect with the people I wish to connect with, in the way that I would want... Yeah. It could be so much worse. And I probably wouldn't trade lives with Fakir, even though it would mean I would get his ballet skills, too. Even if Fakir's situation couldn't literally happen, thinking about him gives me perspective and makes me feel less sorry for myself when I get like that. Because he's doing everything I want to do, better than me, but objectively? His life mostly sucks.

The Teacher Blorbo Award. Maybe the most special thing about Hikari from Digimon, isn't that she was my favourite character in the first anime I was able to share with my first friend in school... Maybe it's that she was also my friend's favourite character, and that taught 8-year-old kids a lot about sharing and how to play nice in fandom. Yeah, we loved her personality, her character design, her digimon, her character songs and all that, and our life mission was to find a top like hers... but perhaps it's thanks to Hikari being both of our favourite, that some things were obvious to me before I ever set foot in online community. Things like, you can't own a character. That sharing different perspectives enriches your experience instead of taking away from it. That fandom isn't a competition. That if you feel nit-picky, the prize is usually on the other side of getting over yourself. Basic things, that are sometimes hard to learn or remember, even for adults.

The Overidentification Blorbo Award. Haku from Spirited Away was that character whose actions I had a strong need to explain in ways that made sense from my own perspective, to assign him motivations that I would have had in his shoes, even if something different would have been more plausible or more narratively interesting or coherent. I was ten, and I think it lasted for a year or two. I think what I learned from it was to look for a better balance: you can use your experience as an inspiration but it should only enrich, not override the core of the character or the thematic integrity of the original story. If you can't admit when someone you identify with, differes from you, or does something you wouldn't do, that's dishonest, in an intellectual and creative way too. Of course this is all coming from a perspective of valuing a quite "serious" approach to analysis, and fanfiction too. (Which makes sense for me, because fiction is my career.) I know not everyone values that, and it's fine. (This is NOT a statement to invalidate anyone whose fandom experience relies dominantly on self-referential content, such as self-shipping. I encourage everyone to be as self-indulgent as you want. Only you know what's good for you.) This is just how I learned how I personally want to do things. Of course I couldn't articulate it as a little kid, but I experienced this sense of dishonesty and overindulgence that I didn't like. I want myself and what I can draw from my life to be in service of the subject, not the other way around. I only want to use "me" where I genuinely think my experience makes a story or a character stronger by filling in the gaps in a way that brings a relevant and innovative angle to the themes. So. Thanks, Haku, for making me grow as an artist.

Why are four of my blorbos drawing their swords I'm sure it says nothing about me

Thanks for reading my self-indulgent rambling. But perhaps some of it is relatable to someone? I hope. Apologies for getting so wordy and coming up with my own 'Blorbo Awards'... @wannabe-cartoonist-blog's original post was much more concise and sensible.

You politely knocked on the door, careful not to be too loud.

“Lucifer?”

When you didn’t hear him tell you to go away, or the sound of furniture being thrown at the door, you went ahead inside. He was sitting at his desk surrounded by papers and folders. When he saw you, he gave you a small smile and put his pen to the side to rub his temples.

“Hello, my darling.” He sounded tired.

“Evening. Heard you’re in a bad mood.”

He frowned. He never appreciated finding that his brothers had been talking about him. Especially to others. Especially to the exchange students. And especially to you. But you were saying it gently and crossing the room to stand next to him. His frown softened as he leaned into your touch, carding fingers through his hair and pressing his head into your chest.

“You feeling stressed, baby?” you whispered, kissing the top of his head. “Anything I can do to help?”

His eyes fluttered shut. “Mm. No. This is enough.”

“How much of this do you need to get done tonight? Can you just go to bed and do it with a fresh mind tomorrow.”

He sighed and hugged you tightly. “I need to keep working.”

“Just a bit more. Then bed. You won’t be doing your best work when you’re tired and in a bad mood.”

He grumbled something but he was melting under your touch and knew he would cave soon. Time for a secret weapon.

“Finish this file and I’ll give you a reward, okay? Then I’ll let you get back to work.”

He perked up. “Reward?”

“Mhm.”

He waited for you to tell him what the reward was, then figured from your smile that you weren’t going to.

“Fine. Sit over there with your secret and I’ll finish this.”

It didn’t take him too long, but he kept glancing up at you from your spot on the couch. You didn’t even pretend to not be staring at him. Chin on the heel of your hand. Smiling.

He looked so handsome when focused, and was looking prettier and prettier as his frown faded. Tousled black hair. Loosened tie and partially unbuttoned shirt. Gloves discarded. Shapely eyebrows slowly returned to a resting position, and no longer pressed together and made a wrinkle on his forehead. Not that he was any less cute with it, but you would much rather see your sweet demon smiling over pouting (or sulking, depending on how much you valued your life).

You were so enamoured that you almost missed it when he finished the file. Almost. He dropped his pen and threw everything back in the folder. With a flourish, he moved it to the “completed” box and stood. Grabbed his coat. Stalked towards you.

“I’ve finished the file, darling.” He settles the coat on the back of the couch and leans down. One knee settles next to yours and his face is close as purrs, “Now, what’s this about a reward.”

You slip between his arms and stand, gently guiding him to stand straight before you. He does so, but his body still leans in and almost coils around you. It reminds you of ivy on a house, or a snake on its favorite zookeeper. 

Gentle hands hold his face still and you press a kiss to his lips.

Dark eyelashes flutter closed and he inhales deeply. Both of you hold onto each other tightly, his arms roaming up and down your back, while yours are stationary, one gripping his upper back and the other his lower.

Before it can deepen, you pull back. He lets out a huff. He was a real baby about teasing, but that was not the point. 

You kiss him again, chastely pressing your lips over his, then the corners of his mouth, his chin, his cheek, his eyelids, his forehead. Gentle pecks, leaving the warmth of you all over his face. He couldn’t help but smile.

He could almost forget what (or more accurately, who) had put him in such a mood. Almost. But revenge was best served cold. And he would much rather kiss you and sleep comfortably in your embrace than plot and scheme. He was a softy like that.

MAMMON

Using Goldie. He won’t let you take her out and about, per se, but he put Goldie on your Akuber account.

“If ya want a late night snack, order using this. Don’t leave in the middle of the night without me and definitely don’t ask anyone else to get ya food.”

When you giggled about it to Simeon and Satan between classes, they told you that Mammon would throw you under the bus the moment Lucifer got his hand on Goldie’s credit card statement. 

But the credit card statement came and went. Mammon was the only one strung up by his ankles in the living room. You went to Lucifer to try and shorten his sentence, explaining that you were to blame for some of the charges.

“Oh, so that was your account. He didn’t tell me whose it was. Not to worry, though. Your food ordering didn’t even account for 1% of what that idiot charged on that damnable card. So he will dangle and wail for as long as I want him to. Off you go.”

 You immediately brought Mammon snacks and water, hand feeding him and shooing away whatever brother had come to gloat. Needless to say, he did not learn his lesson and was not the least bit remorseful.

LEVIATHAN

Going outside. It started when you asked him to go to a new store, or cafe, or restaurant with you because you didn’t want to go alone. He made a fuss, but relented so as to have the opportunity to make the others jealous. It was… fine. Better than he expected, not that he’d admit it aloud. 

A few weeks later, there was an event to support The Magical Ruri Hana: Demon Girl that was IRL that he really wanted to go to. He barged into your room with a scowl and asked (i.e. told) you to join him.

“I went outside to do that stupid thing with you, so now you have to return the favor and come with me to support Ruri-chan.”

“Sure, Levi, I’d love to go with you.”

“...” 

Thankfully, he didn’t flood the House of Lamentation but it was quite the struggle. You went with him happily, letting him yammer on and on. 

Now that he unlocked you as a travel companion, he could go to way more events to support all the things he loved! And if it was too much, you were an expert at maneuvering out of somewhere and taking him back to the safety of his room. Or going up to booths and asking for something on his behalf while he hovered silently (and a bit nervously) behind you.

And no! He did NOT like going outside now. But it was more bearable with you.

SATAN

Moving his books around. Somehow, nothing you do (or at least, very little) irritates him. Whenever you want to borrow a book, you: text him to let him know you’re going to his room, list the books you’re taking, and let him know if you’re reading in there. You don’t try to reorganize them or pack them onto the shelves. You even made a system where you put sticky notes or pieces of paper on the shelf or sticking out a stack where the book had originally been.

“You tread so carefully in here that sometimes I won’t even know you borrowed a book until I look at my messages. With my idiot brothers, I can hear them messing things up all the way from RAD. You are welcome to come in here anytime. Don’t ask to come over, just tell me you are.”

Unfortunately, Levi heard him say this and made the foolish mistake of laughing and giving away his location.

One very loud smackdown and one very long lecture later, the pair of you were stacking the books and placing anything damaged in a specific place to be repaired once all the missing pages or chunks of binding were found.

“I meant what I said. And if Levi ever comes in here, kick him out for me.”

ASMODEUS

Using his private bathroom. Your room has a half bath in it for you to brush your teeth and such, but you have to follow the established order of baths with the other boys in the communal bathroom. After a few nights of having to stay up later than you wanted to bathe after the brothers goofed around for too long, you knocked on Asmo’s door. You had your pajamas, your toiletries bag, and your hands clasped together in pleading.

“I won’t be long, not even half an hour. I just want to shower real quick!”

To your surprise, Asmo ushered you in and pulled out a bunch of things for you to try. If you shooed him away while you bathed, he would tease but oblige, resolving to simply pounce on you with skin and hair care once you exited the bathroom. If you let him stay, he chats idly and gives you a review on basically every item in his bathroom, making a pile of things you’ll try that evening.

Once cozied up in your pajamas and a silk robe Asmo loaned you, he gives you a full bedtime makeover. You fell asleep during the pampering, and you got several comments from the other brothers the following morning at breakfast of how nice you looked and smelled.

From that day on, Asmo promised he’d let you use his bathroom whenever. And rubbed it in the face of all the others that he was the only one who shared a bath with you now.

BEELZEBUB

Sharing food with you. You always offered him the first bite of your meal when you all went out. Now, you weren’t stupid: you prepared a normal sized bite for him and gave it to him, rather than letting him get his own bite. The first couple of times you offered it to him, he ate about half of your burger or plate or meal in one bite. You didn’t make that mistake again.

But he was touched. You always let him have the first bite. So he started offering you the first (or second or last) bite of his meal.

“Here, try this. Taste alright?”

You opened your mouth while you were stirring something on the stove, and Beel fed you a spoonful of the sauce he was making, his hand under your chin to catch any spill and his eyes fixed on your face.

“BEEL!” shrieked Mammon and Asmo from the doorway. “You put that spoon in your mouth just a second ago! You just indirectly kissed them! You pervert!”

Levi and Satan bellowed from the dining room, and Beel chased his older brothers from the kitchen. A pause as he looked at you expectantly.

“Did it taste alright?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Maybe a little more heavy cream, but yeah, it’s good, Beel.”

BELPHEGOR

Doting on him. As one of the younger brothers, he is often the victim of teasing, baby-talk, and obnoxious cheek pinches.

However, he pretends to not hear when you giggle to Beel about how cute he looks with his cheek smushed while sleeping. When you wake him up gently, whispering and rubbing his back, he takes his time in stirring. He’ll roll into your lap and let you scratch his scalp in the evening while everyone is winding down. Where Asmo would get attacked for cooing at him napping somewhere ridiculous, he would twitch the tip of his tail when you did the same.

When Mammon brags that you brought him snacks when Lucifer was punishing him, insisting that you saved all your affection for him, your “first”, Satan corrects him.

“You’re stupider than you look, Mammon. Haven’t you seen the picture of Belphie in their lap? They dote on him like he’s a kitten.”

Normally, he would snap at Satan and make sure he never went near you again to avoid that nonsense. But this time, he scoffed. “They treat you like that because they pity what an idiotic scumbag you are. They treat me like this because they actually like me.”

“... Man, you guys are so mean t’ me.”

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