#ANYWAYS we're not talking about that rn
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ayakashibackstreet · 10 months ago
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I swear, when the living embodiment of "Sometimes People Who Are Queer Are More Annoying" isn't in class and therefore isn't following me around (because they think we're besties based on the fact that we happen to share identities?? even though they clearly aren't the type of person I enjoy hanging out with?? sigh), uni is soooo much better.
Today I got to:
talk to Jędrzej about his issues with doing two majors at the same time, as well about how much we'd rather be taking a nap; also thesis struggles
chat happily with another person who stayed at uni after finishing her bachelor's (on a sort of 'cousin major' as I call it) about our favourite vegetables, about cooking and about struggles with getting your brain to 'warm up' when reading in a language using a foreign writing system
talk with a junior of mine about struggles with Japanese and about the teachers she might still encounter; about classes that might be worth taking, about studying tips and general fears for the future
walk out of the classroom chatting with the two girls from my major, with whom I'd definitely be friends if that one person wasn't following me around all the time :/
get asked about pronouns by one of them (because she apparently always meant to ask, due to the trans flag on my backpack, but there was never an opportunity; again, I wonder why), properly come out as transmasc to them, and continue the conversation with using the 'masculine' verb forms <3
talk with one of them all the way through the underpass until we had to part ways; mainly about struggles with overthinking and anxiety, about how ridiculous those thoughts can get sometimes
Man, I kinda dreaded going to uni today but actually? It was kind of a banger day?
Still really tired though.
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welcometogrouchland · 3 months ago
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Extremely bad batgirls comic I made featuring Steph's sex life and Cass' ability to read everything but the room
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whenfatecollides · 2 years ago
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Gabrielle going against her beliefs and deviating from the path she wanted to take in life in order to save Xena | bonus:
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silverskye13 · 1 month ago
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rns angst prompt: something to do with evil beesuma and helsknight? And argument? A particularly bad fight? Maybe this was when hk wasn’t champion yet?
The Champion didn't like him. Of that much, Helsknight was certain. Which was a shame, because if Helsknight were being completely honest, he would have to say he looked up to the Champion. Sure Evil Beesuma was sharp and prideful, and seemed to walk around with a permanent chip on his shoulder, but he was also the brother of the man who ruled hels. It was a long, dark shadow to live under, yet he somehow still managed to burst out of it like a second sun rising. When people talked about him, they didn't talk about his brother. They talked about him. His strength. His perseverance. The fact that he built himself from nothing, with no help from Evil X. All his success, he earned himself. It was magnificent. His fights were legendary, all form and poise and bloodless efficiency. Mechanical. Perfect.
[It was a shame, too, that Helsknight was admiring that perfection from the ground.]
Helsknight's mouth tasted like blood. His head swam. There was an ache so deep in his teeth, he wondered if his jaw was broken. Above him, the hels ceiling shifted with phosphorescent colors as stars receded from his vision. Helsknight groaned and slowly, painstakingly, he turned onto his side and spat.
"Alright," Helsknight said raggedly, "give me a few minutes."
The showrunner coaching him relayed his request to the metal goliath standing over him. Evil Beesuma made a loud buzzing noise that Helsknight had come to associate with contempt. On his shadow on the sand, Helsknight watched him sign a dismissive motion, and while he couldn't hear what was said, the intention seemed obvious.
"Give the fool a few minutes. It won't change anything."
The showrunner helped Helsknight stagger to his feet, and together they limped to the stone bench in the practice arena. The broken nose and busted jaw were not the only hurts this particular bout had earned Helsknight. There was a wicked gash on his hip that was bleeding pretty badly, and he had a collection of bruises on his arms and chest that ached deep in his muscles.
"Listen Hels," the showrunner sighed, handing him a health potion.
"Helsknight."
"Whatever. Listen, I know you did well in the starter bracket--"
"Undefeated," Helsknight hummed, licking blood off his lips. It took him a few tries to get the potion uncapped, but when he managed it, he tossed it back. It warmed him all the way down his throat, and as the pain eased away from him, he felt tense muscles relax.
[Gods alive these things were good.]
"And I know you showed promise in the championship tryouts--"
Promise. He'd won eight out of ten of his matches. To get a sponsor, most only needed to win half. Helsknight didn't know who his sponsor was yet, but he knew there was a waiting list involved. A waiting list for him. A waiting list of people who hoped to outbid each other just to buy his gear, and sit in his box, and maybe shake his bloody hand after the match. It was ridiculous.
"But maybe going after the Champion is a little much for you still, yeah?" The showrunner asked pleadingly. "You're clearly outmatched, and a bad starting round can end your career if you're not... Mindful."
The showrunner did not say, if you lose your temper in front of the stands. The showrunner did not say, if Evil Beesuma wipes the floor with you, and it's a bad fight. He did not have to say these things. Helsknight was very well aware.
"We have two weeks before the match." Helsknight said steadfastly. "That's two weeks to prove I can take him."
The showrunner hissed out a long breath and pinched the space between his eyes. "Aren't you tired of getting your ass kicked?"
Anger, hot and quick, flickered to life in Helsknight's chest. It must have showed in his eyes, because the showrunner took a step back, hands raised in exasperation.
"Fine. Far be it from me to keep you from breaking all the bones in your body. Champion." He signed to Evil Beesuma, who had by now cleaned the blood off his knuckles, and retrieved a new sword to practice with. His other one had grown dull against Helsknight's armor and blade. "He still wants to train. Would you--"
Evil Beesuma buzzed something. It was a loud, long, grating note, nearly a roar. The lights of his eyes were narrowed in a glare, all four fists clenched. There was vicious humor there, and no small amount of loathing.
Helsknight didn't blame him. He was a threat to the Champion. The showrunner couldn't tell. It wasn't his job to tell. But Evil Beesuma knew, in the same bone-deep way Helsknight knew, that Helsknight was learning. Perfecting.
When they had started, Helsknight had lasted, oh, about half a minute. Compensating for Evil Beesuma's multiple arms was, unfortunately, the least of his problems. It was the efficiency of movement, calculated dancer-like grace, that was the real trouble. It was the fact that every swing of his sword was always just as strong as the last. No room for error in mechanics. Once a pattern was recognized, it took a fluke to flaw it, and Evil Beesuma was just person enough to compensate for flukes where computer efficiency failed.
But Helsknight was efficient too. He was not the perfect brawler. He was not the perfect gladiator. But he was the perfect knight. At least, he was the perfect knight by his Hermit's standards. His perfection included strength of arms, and a cunning blade, and a thirst for battle that could not be slaked. It apparently also included the ability to adapt and learn. And Helsknight was certainly learning, and learning well.
Two and a half minutes that last round had lasted. Two and a half minutes of dodging, and parrying, and figuring out what hurts he could fight through and what he couldn't. Two and a half minutes of pain tolerance, and the limits of adrenaline, and muscle memory. Two and a half minutes of learning what made a perfect warrior perfect, and adapting it into something he could achieve.
And he would achieve it. Like the sun rising. Like a wave devours a cliff. Helsknight would learn. It was only a matter of time.
Helsknight got to his feet. He took a moment to drink some water, and rinse his mouth, and wash the drying blood from beneath his nose. He made sure the buckles on his gauntlets were tight, and checked the guard on his sword.
Helsknight and the Champion met again on the sand. They were vicious; limbs and teeth and steel. Helsknight imagined someday he would go deaf from the ringing of metal. Someday. Today though, he was going to lose to the Champion again. It would take less than two and a half minutes. Even if the health potion revitalized his muscles, it didn't take the weariness out of his mind.
The Champion got him in a headlock. The movement was so baffling, Helsknight didn't even know how he'd managed it. He'd simply twisted, and what once had been freedom, and the shiver of stung nerves as blade met blade, turned into a vice around his neck and arms tangled in his, holding him still.
[Cheating. Helsknight thought scathingly. That's cheating.]
It was cheating for a knight. There was a certain amount of honor and decorum he was held to that the Champion was not.
The Champion was a brawler. He hadn't spawned into this world strong and implacable, a diamond and netherite wall. He had built himself this way, piece by piece and code by code. It was admirable. Enviable. He turned Helsknight feeble with flippant assuredness, and Helsknight had started strong. It was part of why Helsknight admired him. The Champion had achieved his greatness by building himself into something better.
It hadn't made him kind, and that too, Helsknight envied in its own way. The Champion was a weapon that was blunt and unyielding as a club, and he broke people precisely. He did not grieve his actions. He took pride in their efficiency, no matter how ugly it was. That was the nature of violence.
Evil Beesuma held him still, choking, until stars devoured his vision and novaed black. It was not a slow squeeze. There was no threat of slowly strangled air or struggle to wrench his arms into place. Evil Beesuma had closed on him like a bear trap, and did not release his iron jaws until Helsknight was sure he intended to suffocate him to death.
Helsknight awoke on the sand, gasping like a hooked fish, his throat refusing to open completely even when freed. It hurt. His lungs burned, and his throat was bruised, and the simple action of swallowing was thick and unbearable. He tried to turn onto his side, to help his damaged muscles move, but the Champion landed a foot in the center of his chest, pinning him on his back. Evil Beesuma looked down at him, arms crossed over his bent knee as he leaned his weight down on Helsknight. For someone already struggling to breathe, it was a cruelty. Helsknight felt his chest fall when his breath was squeezed out of him, and he felt every muscle in his chest protest as it struggled to rise against the weight.
"I ought to kill you," the Champion said, his voice a bored drone that seemed to leap into Helsknight's head when their eyes met. "You seem to think some passing skill with a blade entitles you to something. It doesn't. I don't owe you anything, knight."
Helsknight gripped at the Champion's ankle, a new burst of adrenaline spiking him as fear at his situation sank in. Stars, slow pinpricks, were gathering on the edges of his vision again. His entire world narrowed to the effort of breathing. The Champion reached down, and doing so pressed what was left of the air out of Helsknight's lungs. Cold metal splayed against the side of Helsknight's face as the Champion forced him to meet his eyes.
"You are a waste of my time," Evil Beesuma said, cold and inflectionless. The contempt of someone convinced they were watching someone far beneath them try to struggle upwards.
Helsknight realized he was scared. It surged to him through the stars devouring his sight again, followed swiftly by the darkness beyond. He was scared. Scared and cornered. Cornered. And angry. Rage filled the gaps in his lungs, consumed the stars in his vision. The world in front of him went briefly red, consumed by the determination to be spiteful and petty, and to make the Champion think twice before belittling him like this again.
Helsknight punched Evil Beesuma as hard as he could in the knee, the only thing he could really reach. His gauntlet saved him the sharpness of the metal around the Champion's legs, but he felt his knuckles break. He also felt the Champion's leg slip away from him. He fell like a tree, landing halfway on Helsknight's legs.
Helsknight gasped in a breath of air so deep he had to cough it all back out again. Everything about him to do with air and breathing rioted, tangled with the wash of nausea that came in the aftermath of adrenaline, and he nearly gagged. Helsknight tried to stand, made it halfway to his knees, when a shove to his side sent him back over again. Helsknight braced himself as best he could, waiting for some show of cruelty. He glared up at the Champion in ragged defiance, trying to find his breath.
The Champion was laughing at him. Elated. Surprised. Wholly unbothered. Helsknight had probably broken his hand on Evil Beesuma's knee, and it had all the effects of a bird landing.
"I'll give you one thing knight, you've got some fire," the Champion laughed, his voice cloyed with the derisive affection one might reserve for an arrogant child. "But you need to learn when a fight is lost." He made a dismissive motion with his hand, sweeping the idea of Helsknight aside. "Try me again in a few months, when you've figured out how to bend iron."
The Champion turned away from him. He was leaving. The tide of Helsknight's rage at the dismissal surged him to his feet. He reached for the dagger on his belt, determined to do something, anything, to chip away at that iron wall. Just a scratch would do. Proof the Champion was fallible. Mortal. Beatable.
He threw the dagger.
Later, months later, when Helsknight and EB were friends, EB would teach Helsknight how to properly throw a knife. It would be a game they played fondly, friendly competition, where they could get fierce safely. Where they learned how to challenge each other to be better. Now though, Helsknight didn't know how to throw a knife. He still felt vindicated though, when the handle hit Evil Beesuma squarely in the back of the head.
The Champion stopped in his tracks, turned with red eyed fury on the impudent knight. Helsknight's lip curled in a sneer. He moved his hands rapidly, in the only sign language he knew.
[He had meant for it to be a good thing, learning sign. Helsknight knew the Champion had a sizable crowd of deaf and mute fans; people who saw in him a brighter future, where they were seen and understood and appreciated equally. A world where people listened to them. Helsknight thought it was unfair then, that only the Champion bothered to incorporate sign into his sets. They should be able to hear the Champion's challenger without the help of an interpreter. And, just like they did, Evil Beesuma deserved to be met where he was, with words he could follow easily. He shouldn't have to memorize stage directions, and distant indecipherable mumbling, just because his challenger was lazy.]
[The showrunner Helsknight had been assigned told him it was a bad idea. He said he would be learning a language just to insult it's Champion with it. Helsknight had argued Evil Beesuma was the Colosseum's darling. For all his prideful shortcomings in the privacy of the cells, outwardly, as much as he could be to a crowd of thousands, he was just and strong and kind. If Helsknight was going to depose him, he was destined to be the heel anyway.]
[When Helsknight had told the Champion what he wanted to do, Evil Beesuma had actually considered his challenge. It was probably the only reason he'd humored him this long.]
[Helsknight really was stupid when he was angry.]
"Pride comes before the fall," Helsknight signed, and then he shouted, because Evil Beesuma was looking at him, and he didn't know the signs for his next words: "You absolute piece of shit!"
It was not his brightest moment.
It wasn't Evil Beesuma's either.
The Champion's eyes reddened and narrowed with anger. His hand flew to his sword, and he lanced forward in a flickering of color.
Helsknight respawned in his room in the cells, gasping in sucking breaths around a hole in his throat that was no longer there. He was still angry. Angrier, now that he'd faced a terror of respawn, and it had shaken him far more than he thought it would. When he rolled off his bed, his hands were shuddering, his nerves jangled. His only sword and armor were in the training yard, and he bolted for them. He shoved past gladiators in his way, pounded up the stairs, tore through the mess hall. When he burst onto the sand, Evil Beesuma was waiting for him, all wrath and stung pride.
He at least had the grace to let Helsknight grab his sword.
The moment their swords crossed again, Helsknight knew something was wrong. It took a few minutes for that wrongness to bash its way past his fury, but in a bone-deep way, he noticed it. Evil Beesuma was moving too slowly. Inefficiently. There was a jerkiness to his movements that hadn't been there before. Imperfection. A crack in the iron wall.
At first, Helsknight chalked it up to a loss of composure. He'd managed to piss the Champion off, and so his poise was slipping. Helsknight didn't lose his composure in quite the same way when he was angry and fighting. He slipped deep into muscle memory, and turned into a creature of reactions and instinct, all conscious thought fled in the wake of emotion and brute strength. It had won him more than one match. He was ready for it to win him this.
Helsknight slammed his blade into the Champion's near the hilt, and Evil Beesuma, strong as a hoglin with hands like vices, didn't drop it, but he backpedaled. It was not the appropriate response to what Helsknight had done. Imperfect. The wrongness Helsknight's conscious brain noticed needled at him again. He lifted his sword into a guard position and waited.
[He will spring for me, Helsknight thought. He is stronger, and his skills are more finely tuned. He works best when he overwhelms.]
The Champion did not spring forward. He took a step back instead, and seemed to catch his breath. The Champion was made of metal and redstone. He did not breathe. He did not bleed. And from what Helsknight could tell, nothing on him was broken. Helsknight wasn't strong enough, harmful enough, good enough, to break the Champion. He wasn't even sure he'd hit him once.
Helsknight narrowed his eyes, and let out a long slow breath, and dragged his anger down, called it to heel.
"Champion Beesuma," Helsknight asked, trying not to grind his teeth, trying not to be spiteful. He was a knight. He needed to act like one. "Are you well?"
Evil Beesuma laughed. It was a haughty thing, meant for bravado, but it too sounded off. Shaken. Yes, something was wrong. The Champion looked down to one of his hands, which Helsknight realized was shaking. Evil Beesuma blinked down at it. His sword lowered, and then dropped from his grasp. His sword hand, too, was shaking. He said something, speaking to himself, soft inflection. A question. The Champion wasn't looking at him, so Helsknight couldn't decipher the words, but the tone was dread.
Not here. Not now.
Helsknight sheathed his sword. He held out a hand, trying to show he meant no harm. "Champion?"
Evil Beesuma, the Champion of the Colosseum, collapsed. It happened so slowly, he almost seemed to fold in on himself. Not a swoon. Not a faint. Just a slow sink first to his knees, and then to the ground. The only sign the movement wasn't intentional was from the continued shaking in his hands, and the way the bright screen that made his face flickered and jolted through expressions, breaking into off-color pixels.
Helsknight's first worry, as he sank down beside him, was that in his anger he'd broken something irreparable. He didn't think he had, but he knew the Champion was different than a regular helsmet. More fragile, in odd ways. Redstone and mechanical pieces, much like his armor and weapons, didn't mend on respawn. The soul of a person did, the bits that made them work, but a broken ax didn't regain durability just because you died holding it. Evil Beesuma was subject to that; his mechanical parts more often than not needed mended and replaced after heavy matches. He had a small fleet of drones to help with this, little bee-shaped helpers who flew around him when he went about his business. But whatever was going wrong with him now seemed to infect them too. The two or three that had even managed to flit over to him flew in dizzy, decaying circles overhead, bumping into each other. One, simply dropped out of the sky.
"Champion, can you speak?" Helsknight asked as calmly as he could, trying to meet the Champion's eye, but finding it hard to know where to look when the screen was glitching so badly. "Can you tell me what's wrong, or how I can help you?"
[If he could help at all, besides simply holding the Champion's hand and saying useless platitudes about how all things pass.]
The showrunner, who had until that point, apparently, been content to watch them kill each other, materialized at his side in a rush.
"You can't help him," he said nervously. "I'm surprised you've never seen this before. It's--" he looked away and cleared his throat. "The Champion isn't well."
Helsknight blinked. His first instinct was to snap yes, of course he isn't well. He just blacked out, or fell into whatever equivalent an android could have for a seizure. Obviously he wasn't well. Then the statement sank in, the implication beneath digging hooks in.
The Champion was dying.
Helsknight, very stupidly, found himself on the verge of asking why. Why him? Why now? Why this? Why like this? Helsknight had only seen someone on the verge once before, the Universe temporarily dithering over someone's mortality. It had been when he was still a squire, and one of the knights had... It wasn't a fit exactly. They'd been training, and she became lightheaded and shaky, and had a hard time breathing. At the time, Helsknight thought it was heat stroke, or maybe that she'd overexerted herself. When she sat down to cool off, she'd fallen asleep.
It had taken her three days to wake, and when she did, she was quiet, and meek, and scared.
Helsknight sighed, and he swore. "How long has this been happening?"
"Last I heard it'd only happened once," the showrunner answered skeptically. "Then again, he hadn't wanted anyone to know."
"Well. They're going to know now," Helsknight said grimly. "Make yourself useful and get me a strength potion." Then he snapped, when the showrunner blinked at him in exasperation, "Unless you'd like to carry him down to his cell yourself?"
They scampered off. Helsknight sighed again, running a hand through his hair. Respawn had done him one good turn at least; he wouldn't have to take any armor off before trying to drag the Champion downstairs.
"Alright then," Helsknight grunted as he got his arm beneath Evil Beesuma's shoulders and started lifting him. He was heavy and unwieldy, with too many limbs that were all too long. The Champion was taller than Helsknight by just enough that it made a difference when trying to carry him.
It was hard work getting the Champion downstairs. It was even harder work trying to be discreet about it. People saw him. Helsknight couldn't help that. But he at least stuck to the less traveled stairways, so news would travel slower. When he finally made it down the long, loud hall to Evil Beesuma's cell, he was relieved and grateful. He deposited the Champion into his bed, and arranged his limbs into a position that seemed comfortable. Then, not entirely sure what to do, Helsknight left.
It took the Champion a day and a half to wake. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't very long. Helsknight had heard of helsmets nearer to death falling asleep for days or weeks. The idea was terrifying to Helsknight, that he might, out on the streets one day, simply pass out and never wake again, smothered in the jaws of the Universe. This was not nearly so dramatic, Evil Beesuma might really have only suffered a handful of the episodes.
But it was enough time that people noticed, and they talked. They talked about whether the Champion was fit to fight. They talked about whether they would risk killing him. Some people were even so bold as to talk about him like he was dead already. They talked about what his statue would look like in the Colosseum hall. What they would do if he perished before a new Champion could be made. It made Helsknight angry hearing it. When he stumbled into those conversations, he found himself glowering and looming until the discussion broke off.
The day after Evil Beesuma woke, Helsknight gathered his courage and visited him. The Champion didn't like him, probably wouldn't appreciate him coming. Helsknight didn't blame him. It would sting someone's pride to act so high, and so cruel, and so triumphant, only to be felled a moment later by the hels equivalent of a lightning strike.
Evil Beesuma was alone when Helsknight entered his cell. He was sitting on his bed, face held in his hands, papers spread out on the sheets beside him. Helsknight caught a glance of a missive with the Colosseum seal on it.
"Your sponsor is concerned that, should you die in your next match--"
Helsknight averted his eyes quickly. He quietly backed out of the room, awkwardly considered his options. He thought, probably, the Champion might appreciate the chance to save some face around someone he didn't like. He sighed.
[Respect the honor of your fellow helsmet, he repeated to himself, trying not to feel ridiculous.]
Helsknight retreated up the hall a ways, and then made his footsteps loud when he came back again. He knocked obnoxiously on a few doors, and asked loudly and stupidly for directions to the Champion's cell. The walls in the cells were thin. He was easy to hear, even if the Champion couldn't catch the words. He would at least know someone was coming.
Sure enough, this time when he answered, Evil Beesuma was standing. The missives were collected in a neat, face-down pile on the bed. A dozen of his little buzzing drones hovered around his shoulders, scanning and doing maintenance. He had put on a practiced air of disdain and unconcern. Good. He didn't know his moment of despair had been witnessed.
"What are you here for?" Evil Beesuma demanded, all four of his arms crossed.
Helsknight briefly considered the best way to be respectful. He decided the best thing he could do was treat the Champion like nothing had changed. Enough people were treating him like he was fragile.
"I came to ask if you were well," Helsknight said simply, and when he was met with stony silence, begrudgingly added, "and I came to apologize for losing my temper."
Evil Beesuma side-eyed one of his drones, as though they were passing secret messages between each other. Helsknight thought it was a handy little trick to make people feel scrutinized. It added to the Champion's air of skepticism and disdain.
[Don't get angry, he hissed at himself, when the burn of emotion flickered in his stomach. Don't get angry.]
"Generally speaking, my Order is against outbursts like that," Helsknight continued, valiantly pretending he was unphased. "And it was arrogance on my part. I'm well aware I'm beneath your skill, and you offered me a kindness in using your time to train me."
Briefly, Helsknight considered kneeling. It would be a very knightly thing to do. He also thought his pride would eat him alive if he did it. He was still a bit too resentful of that foot planted on his chest, squeezing the life out of him. Helsknight settled on a small, stuff bow. It made Evil Beesuma laugh, a sharp derisive noise. Helsknight stubbornly ignored the thorn of anger pressing deeper into his side.
"I humbly ask you continue training me," Helsknight said, "and you consider accepting my challenge for the Championship."
"If you think just because you carried me down here I owe you something, I don't," Evil Beesuma said sharply.
"I don't think you owe me anything," Helsknight said, trying to keep both hands on his patience. "I'm asking politely for your time."
"And why in hels should I give it to you?" The Champion stepped towards him, towering. Anger, and the soft touch of nervousness, pulled a little harder against Helsknight's restraint. He wasn't used to being intimidated. He decided immediately he didn't like it. "As you've clearly noticed, I have little enough of it to go around. What makes you think you deserve it?"
"Because I'm a knight."
"Because you're a knight?" Evil Beesuma laughed. "Am I supposed to be impressed because you walk around in a fancy cape all day?"
Helsknight scowled. He clenched his fists at his sides, and for a long, cold moment, considered punching the Champion as hard as he could in the face. It probably wouldn't do anything besides wound his own knuckles, but gods alive it would feel great. And then he would wash his hands of the stupid gladiator, and all his spiteful, biting pride.
[Saint help me. Saint keep my temper somewhere else.]
"Being a knight means I will treat you with honor and respect, Champion," Helsknight said, trying to keep the aggravated growl out of his voice. "No matter what state you're in when the fighting starts."
The Champion narrowed his eyes at him.
Helsknight took that as a... positive sign.
"The showrunners aren't going to want to risk you in the Colosseum now," Helsknight said quietly. "Your fellow fighters will be tempted to stay their hands, to take it easy on you, because they're scared they'll be the ones to kill you."
"And you're not?" Evil Beesuma snorted skeptically. "I suppose you'll take pride in being the one that finally kills me."
"Don't insult me, Champion!" Helsknight snapped fiercely, taking an angry step forward, so they were chest to chest. "I would never take joy in something like that. Losing you would be a greater sin to this world than anything my winning would gain. People look up to you. They aspire to be like you -- at least the kind show you put on for the crowd."
Evil Beesuma made an uncomfortable noise, guilty.
[Good, he should be, for how he'd been acting.]
"And despite your ruthlessness teaching me," Helsknight said, trying again to regain control of his emotions, at least enough to keep from yelling quite so vehemently, "I respect you. For your strength, and perseverance, and what you've built. You have a legacy here. Something you are rightly proud of."
Helsknight huffed out a tense breath through his nose. "I think it would be a shame to be robbed of that legacy, and the vindication of the works of your hands, because someone else is too scared to accept your challenge. You should have the choice to fight, and keep fighting. Not to rot at the top because ambition fails. If I were in your place, I would hope someone would offer me the same."
Helsknight stepped back from the Champion, breathing intentional, slow breaths through his nose. Embarrassment was starting to chase him, the feeling of stupidity at his fervency, and his vulnerability. Evil Beesuma's gaze slid away from him, some of his previous spite and fire gone. At the very least, he didn't loom threateningly anymore.
Helsknight sighed. Perhaps... A tactical retreat was best. Before he opened his mouth and said some other ridiculous thing. He offered the Champion another stiff bow, silently dismissing himself. Just before he crossed the threshold, buzzing filtered towards him, low and weary. Helsknight turned to look at him.
"Tomorrow, first thing in the morning," the Champion said quietly. Then, with a bit more of his former bite, "Bring your dagger. That throw was trash."
Helsknight nodded. He exited into the hallway, wandering with ever quickening steps back to the stairs that would take him to his cell. Halfway up the stairs he sighed, and stopped, and leaned his forehead against the wall. His hands were shaking.
"If I'm the one who kills the Champion, they'll hate me," he whispered to himself. Between hels and his Hermit, and the spiteful Champion below, he supposed he would have to get used to being hated.
"Nowhere in your tenets does it say you need to be loved," Helsknight murmured. He sighed again, and ascended the steps.
[Some things were more important than his image anyway.]
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royalarchivist · 8 months ago
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[A sad violin song plays over an image of a sad hamster]
Pac: This doesn't have anything to do with me – I wear a blue sweatshirt, you're crazy, this mouse doesn't even have a sweatshirt, this hamster! [Reading chat] Am I a depressed hamster?
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[ Transcript continued ↓ ]*
Pac: Actually– that's fine! I embrace that idea – of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy? [He hits his desk, then starts counting off people on his fingers] Fit is gone, Richarlyson is gone, Ramon is gone, Bagi and Empanada who were always there when we were there are also gone, I haven't seen them! It's just me and Tubbo, and sometimes Philza shows up.
Pac: I lost Chume Labs, I lost the Favela, I lost Murder Mystery, I lost Ilha Chume Labs, it's crazy! Look at how much I've lost, and I've gained nothing! Of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy?! How am I supposed to be happy?!
Pac: [Reading chat] "You have us Pac," that's true, thank you. No, that's true, sorry.
* NOTE: Please note that this is an incomplete transcript, as I was primarily relying on Aypierre's translation mod at the time and if I am not confident of the translation, I do not include it. As always, please feel free to add on translations or message me corrections.
#Pactw#QSMP#Pac#March 18 2024#As much as I love keeping people updated about Pac / the other Portuguese-speaking creators#I think I might not make as many transcribed posts for their clips anymore#I just don't think I'm qualified enough to be transcribing things for a language I don't know#like yeah we have the Qlobal Translator and Aypierre's translators to rely on#And I'm always upfront when I'm not 100% sure about a translation#but I've been thinking about it a lot and it kinda makes me feel a bit icky. Idk.#I might be overthinking this but I just I don't want to spread around translations I'm not super confident about#esp. since I know a lot of people cite my clips in analysis posts or link them to other people as resources#and 90% of the time I'm like ''Hell yeah I love seeing people getting a lot of use out of the archive''#but sometimes I get a bit anxious like ''Did I do a good enough job translating this''#''Am I ruining someone's entire perception of a conversation or character because I left one word out or mistranslated something?''#And like I said that's normally not a HUGE concern since if I'm not certain about a translation I just won't post a clip. but you know#idk it might just be the anxiety talking but I really really don't want to spread bad info#Happy to hear other folks' perspective#I'm really grateful for people like Bell and Pix and others who translate clips and I always try to reblog those#but we don't have a ton of people posting clips & translating things on Tumblr since we're so English-centric#which is part of the reason WHY I like sharing clips of the non-English-speaking CCs#but at the same time I want to do an accurate job representing what they're saying#Maybe I'll just start posting things and give a TLDR context of what they're talking about but not a transcript#that way native-speakers can hop in and add translations if that's something they're comfortable doing#and if not then well. at least I'm not sharing something that isn't super accurate#idk I'm just thinking out loud a bit in the tags#But I'm open to hearing other people's thoughts on the matter#Anyways giant rant aside. q!Pac is NOT doing ok rn
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natreads · 1 year ago
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I'm seeing hozier tonight!!!
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silverselfshippingchaos · 27 days ago
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man... this crush is.. certainly something!
#ash rambles 💚#hnnghhhh.. the guy I'm crushing on rn.. i cant help but feel really insecure and just feel Bad for liking him#it's not even that he's a villain. i dont really care that he killed some people#he's always shipped with this one guy and. dont get me wrong. the ship is great! i see the appeal! i actually think it's cool!#my crush even says 'i loved (OTHER GUY'S NAME)' word for word in the game. i doubt don't that my crush guy likes men lmao we're both gay!#like. thats fine by me. it's just that almost all the content of this crush character has to do with this guy#like... it's like he's not even his own character. he's just that guy's bf#and then there's the sexuality discourse... it's SO bad. I'm almost afraid to say who it is on this blog because of some fear that i#(someone who is not a man) is into a dude like only likes other dudes. like.. i totally get that he likes men! but where does it say that#he's gay? it just makes me feel really insecure ajsjahsjs i know I'm not really doing anything wrong for liking him#but i cant help but feel insecure anyway since everywhere i go it's just the guy i like kissing the guy he likes in canon..#i just feel bad. like i'd never have a chance. like he'd brush me off for being annoying or hell even being a woman#and i just. gah. i feel so fucking horrible for crushing on him :(#i really do like him but whenever i go into his tags or i think too hard about him..? i realize that i dont have a fucking chance.#I'll be fine but like... :(#negative#delete later#I'm honestly so afraid to talk about him much on this blog (or at all..) because of that#like I'm afraid I'm like. erasing his sexuality or something?? even though him smooching that other dude is purely a fanon thing???#personally I'm hitting him with my beam of being unlabeled since i too am unlabeled and i hate the thought of calling myself anything#yes i like men and women and so many other things but i hate calling myself things!!#for my own sake i like to think he's the same way#makes me feel better about fucking liking him#you were beautiful 💸
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iguessigotta · 2 years ago
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Thinking about Sirius Black
Thinking about dating him
Thinking about laying in his lap
Thinking thinking thinking
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stormyoceans · 2 months ago
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I can't stop listening to the opening of FNoL. It's such an incredible song! I can't remember the last time I didn't skip the opening credits. Those moles on Neil's face! his pleasant voice! (Charles, damn it why don't you sing in all your series!) Xiao Hai's sweet encouraging smile! Their bickering over coffee! Ooooo I'm sooo drowned in this show! But 20 minutes Carl!!!!! Monica thank you for telling me about this series. I feel such an unprecedented surge of love inside me💜🎉
THE WAY I WAS SO SURPRISED AND EXCITED TO GET A FIRST NOTE OF LOVE MESSAGE THAT I BUMPED MY KNEE INTO MY DESK AND ACTUALLY SAW THE PROVERBIAL STARS FSDHFKJDGSFJGSDJ WORTH IT TBH
BUT AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA IM SOOOOO HAPPY YOU STARTED THE SHOW AND THAT YOU’RE LIKING IT ANON!!!!!!!!!!
i could not agree with you more about the opening song, it’s just SO GOOD, but to be fair im so in love with the entire soundtrack of this show, i’ve had it on repeat for a whole week and i still haven’t gotten tired of it!!!!! the song neil sings the very first time he meets xiao hai as a kid is probably my favorite rn, just because i ADORE charles’ voice and that scene in episode 2 with the juxtaposition of neil and xiao hai playing it (LITERALLY GAVE ME GOOSEBUMPS), but again, all the songs are amazing and i think you really can tell that they took a lot of care in making the music for the series. the other night i actually watched this small featurette about it and i love that they worked so hard on the physicality of the actors while they sing and play the instruments too!!!!!!
the funniest thing is. i honestly still have no idea why this series got me so badly, especially since i have a very complicated relationship with taiwanese BLs and im not particularly into age gaps, but for some reason the dynamic between neil and xiao hai just works SO MUCH for me!!!!!! and im once again reminded how subjective chemistry is because i’ve seen a lot of comments saying that charles and michael don’t really have it, or that they have only a platonic kind of chemistry, meanwhile im sitting here clawing at the curtains and climbing the walls of my apartment every time they look at each other because michael as xiao hai has these moments where he’s giving such ‘you were my sexual awakening and i haven’t had a single chaste thought about you since forever’ energies when he’s around neil, meanwhile charles has clearly gone to the jimmy jitaraphol’s school of looking at your co-star with a love so all consuming and full of adoration and a devotion so palpable and plain to see it drives people to the brink of suicide (IT’S ME IM PEOPLE)
and much to my embarrassment i could actually go on rambling about this show for a few more hours but im shutting up rn because this already got way too long ;;;;;;;; BUT YEAH THE EPISODES BEING SO SHORT REALLY IS THE ONLY NEGATIVE THING ABOUT IT (i wanted to watch episode 5 on company's time but I NEED TO MAKE THOSE 20 MINUTES LAST)
HOPING AND PRAYING AND MANIFESTING IT WILL KEEP BEING THIS GOOD UNTIL THE END
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flying-cat · 4 months ago
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FUCK??????
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widevibratobitch · 5 months ago
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something about being told im 'the leading person at this whole academy when it comes to interpretation and stage intelligence' by the husband of the woman im trying (not really. but i mean. who knows) to seduce... ok boy you got me. lets make it a polycule.
#im playing it all cool and funny now but atm i legit burst into tears lol#like he said i have a 'good voice too of course' but i know realistically that is not my strongest asset#and even if i were technically perfect. which im NOT lol. the voice itself is just nothing special. it's there ig but that's about it#but its nice to know i may not be 100% useless after all#(just 90%)#also apparently the most feared and respected professor who came to the concert said. again. that he likes me the most.#which again. crying real actual tears about this all rn this means literally the world to me this is everything i have#and i have no one to share this with because im not gonna say it to my uni friend cause i dont want her to feel like im boasting or sth#(even tho she has no such qualms herself but probably because i know how. not great. it feels when someone keeps talking about themselves#and about how great they are and how easy everything is for them. i dont wanna do it back at her.#well there's also the fact that i dont think im great and this is not fucking easy to me at all lol#but idk i think the difference between us is that she actually admitted she sees no point in singing if she cant show off (thus she hates#the duet we're singing because she sings the lower part and cant show off her high notes or coloratura.#which is like. an insane take to me. i mean it i get it. kinda. if i had a voice like hers maybe id be like that too fuck knows.#but that just feels so. idk. sad to me. so self obsessed and empty. like you dont care about the music itself? about you being a part of it?#also immediately made singing with her not fun anymore. i thought we were creating something TOGETHER. but thanks for the confirmation#that you only really care about being 'better than'. yikes.#like idk this behaviour is funny and iconic in old school opera legends like yes go bite each others dicks off.#but it hits completely different when it's your own colleague let alone your friend. like damn girl. damn)#) anyway. the husband is kinda hot too now that i think of it. i really should seduce them both.#except its realistically not possible since they've both seen me cry now (she saw it like a hundred times lol)#so ive lost the hot and mysterious card alas. no uni professors romance for me
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princesshair · 27 days ago
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coffeeandcalligraphy · 1 year ago
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Adorned by stars | Changing States
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When he hits the I-70, Jeremiah slots George Michael’s Faith into his ’98 Accord and drives with the windows down. His mother would chide him for two reasons: a) he’s wasting fuel and b) it’s begun to storm. But he likes the way the wind shears through his hair like a nail breaking drywall and he likes the way spats of rain settle on his skin like constellations because on the road, he isn’t just a hand for someone else to hold, a body to handle, a man who looks at another man and fears how much of himself he’s lost in his reflection. No. On the road he is the sky, adorned by stars of his own making, relentless in his abundance, blinking in the absence of any other light.
A little Changing States aesthetic & excerpt!
i'm so normal about him i'm so normal i'm so normal i'm so-
#i can't wait to explain more about this project when I actually get into it#like there's no plot rn but the vibes are impeccable#BUT I DO HAVE A LOGLINE: after a whirlwind romance devastatingly ends#jeremiah moves back to his hometown in maryland for support#only to receive word there’s been a death in the family the day he's set to arrive.#“WHIRLWIND ROMANCE DEVASTATINGLY ENDS” YEAHHH BYEEE#harrison fucked this man up i'm MADDDDDD#you know that scene in BB where harrison's pissed off at the congregation and turns and goes DO ANY OF YOU WANT PITCHFORKS???#the answer rn should be yes BECAUSE WE'RE HUNTING HIM FOR SPORT (quoting That Post) anyway let me be serious#CW: death/grief talk#like i said this is a little autofiction-y in the sense that last yr my family had a maryland trip planned and right before we left#there was a death in the family (I didn't know the person well but it affected my parents/grandparents/uncles a lot)#so what was a trip to just see family was a trip to go to a funeral#anyway I was thinking about those circumstances and what that's like (like packing funeral clothes when they weren't originally in the plan#and what that funeral was like/how interesting it is that times of grief are also times where family reuintes#as I saw people who wouldn't have ever met me or last met me when I was very little#it was also joyous in ways etc while also being incredibly sad to witness the grief anyway so I was drawn to write about that#because I think about that trip a LOT (I was getting back into SV at the time)#and that was the first time I'd been in MD in a long time (just like this is the first time Jeremiah's been in MD in a long time)#for me it was 4 years so maybe I'll make it a similar timeline for him!#anyway Jeremiah means so much to me ughhhh I’m so grateful I created him#changing states
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six-of-cringe · 2 years ago
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Because it's happened to me a billion times with other fandoms containing queer ships - if I were an outsider to the SoC fandom and just caught glimpses of fan works/posts, I'd have to wonder if Jesper and Wylan were actually canonically together or if fans just made it up so hard they tricked me into thinking it's real. like ok are these little crime guys actually in love this time or are we feeling left out again.
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stinkrascal · 6 months ago
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good morningggggg at 7:30pm my friends the ppl in my phone. me and bf and twin brother and his spouse my sibling in law my bestieeee went to fiery crab today and ate soooo much crab. this is what life is about btw. getting day drunk and eating crabs with ur friends
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daz4i · 6 months ago
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starting to consider the option that i may not be the worst person on earth and i actually may even be p decent. will keep you updated as i find out more information
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