#It’s like less than a minute but it feels AWFUL especially in a game where everywhere else you have full character control

[elena-fishr]

.

[nomie-11]

Chapter 24 - The Double-Edged Dagger

<- previous chapter | masterlist | series masterlist | next chapter ->

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s nearly one o’clock in the afternoon when they approach Athebyne, stopping at the orders of the dragon, at a lake closest to the outpost so they can drink. The surface of the lake is smooth as glass, but the grass bordering the lake at the far side from where they stand is trampled, which means they’re not the first riot to rest here. 

There are a total of ten dragons in all with them, and Genevieve only recognizes a few. It’s obvious that she, Liam, and Violet are the only first years in the group though, and for that reason, they all land next to each other on the border of the lake. 

“You need to drink and probably eat something,” Genevieve sighs, stretching her arms up as she prepares to dismount. Seven straight hours in the saddle was killing her, and this time she really was fairing the worst, as Violet and Liam look nearly unaffected. Violet had the opportunity for extra hours in the saddle since the beginning of War Games, but Genevieve was ground-bound for the majority of that time. 

“And you need to sleep,” Train replies. “You’ve been up all night.” 

“This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gone all night without sleep and certainly won't be the last.” She shrugged, her shoulder popping with an awful clicking noise. She hap-hazardly slides down his foreleg, Liam catching her midway before easing her to the ground without a word. 

“It’s strange to be beyond the wards,” Genevieve says, nodding a quick thank you at Liam before he heads over to Violet. The entire riot’s dragons are agitated, and Genevieve can feel this wrongness in the air that causes the hair to stand on the back of her neck. 

“We’re twenty minutes out from Athebyne, so hydrate! We have no idea what kind of scenario is waiting for us, so rest up.” Xaden calls out, his voice carrying over the squad as Genevieve goes to where Liam and Violet stood, his hands on her shoulders as if he was gently massaging her. 

“You doing alright?” He asks Genevieve, her own hand on her own shoulder because her shoulders hurt too, even if her boyfriend(?) needed to take care of other things. 

Genevieve just shrugs at his question, firing it back at Violet. “Are you doing alright?” 

“If I say I’m not sure, will you think less of me?” Genevieve would never think less of her for being honest with herself, especially since she was feeling exactly the same. 

“I’d think you’re being honest.” Liam replies, running a hand over her hair. 

Genevieve glances at Xaden, deep in conversation with Garrick. He looks back her way, their eyes locking for a second, and that's all it takes to remind her body that she had him naked above her a few hours ago. She takes a deep breath, masking her face with a base of professionalism. 

“Keep looking at me like that and we’ll be stopped longer than a half hour.” he warns, not even shifting his glance to her. 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” His head whips her way, and he actually gives her somewhat of a smile in a somewhat public setting, before turning back toward Garrick. 

“You doing all right with whatever is going on there?” Liam asks, startling Genevieve out of her own thoughts. 

“I think I want to be anywhere else than right here, right now.” Genevieve gives him the most truthful answer she could muster. 

“I’d think you got yourself in over your head.” The look on his face is anything but teasing. 

“For someone who said he owes Xaden everything, that’s not a glowing recommendation.” Fuck, her shoulder hurts so bad. “And I think I might already be dating him so too late, I guess.” 

“You feeling all right?” Xaden asks, and Genevieve groans. 

“My shoulder feels like it might fall off. Can people stop asking me that?” The last thing she wants is to be constantly reminded that something is wrong with her in comparison to everyone else. 

“It’s not that.” Liam grimaces. “It’s just that I know his priorities.” 

“Believe me,” Genevieve counters. “I know them too.” She hasn’t forgotten the fact that he had to ‘find out where her loyalties lie.’ 

Cue eye-roll. 

“I’m really sorry you got dragged along on my account,” Genevieve says quietly so the others won't hear, but Violet does. 

“I, for one, am very glad that you have been dragged along with Genevieve, because I’m always dragged along with Genevieve.” She says, turning around to face him. “Even if I think you should be at one of the midland posts with Dain, not being hauled past the wards. Colonel Aetos is a fair man, but I have no doubt this assignment is meant to ‘give the marked wingleader his due.’” 

“I’m really not scared, no one is hauling me, and believe it or not, Violet, sometimes my orders don’t revolve solely around Genevieve. I do have other skills, you know,” He teases with a grin, flashing a dimple as he hip checks her. 

“I never once forgot how amazing you are, Liam.” She tilts upwards, and Genevieve takes this as her cue to go. 

Genevieve stands on her own, pacing the shore of the lake as Xaden walks away from Garrick, holding out his hand as he approaches. 

Her eyebrows rise. There is no way he’s approaching her with the intention of holding her hand. 

Xadens hand hovers in the air between them, and an unreadable expression on his face. Genevieve hesitates for just a second, unsure if this is some kind of test. Her brows furrow, but she doesn’t reach out. She’s not one for public displays, especially with the entire riot watching. 

“What’s this about?” She asks him, her voice low, trying to read him. She feels the tension in her shoulders deepen. 

He gives her that half-smile again, the one that makes her stomach twist in knots. “Just trust me,” he says, his voice softer than usual, but still with that edge of command she can never ignore. 

Genevieve swallows her doubt and takes his hand. The moment their fingers touch, she feels a slight jolt of energy pass between them—whether from him or from her own nerves, she isn’t sure. He pulls her closer with a smooth, practiced motion, his other hand resting gently on her aching shoulder. 

“Relax,” Xaden says, his voice now a whisper. “I can feel your tension from a mile away.”

“Kind of hard to relax when you’re making a scene,” she mutters, eyes darting around. But, despite herself, she allows him to repeat the motions she was jealously watching Liam play out with Violet. His large hand easing her extremely sore muscles. She notices Violet’s raised eyebrow and Liam’s knowing smirk, but neither of them say a word. 

“None of them are going to say a single word about you—or us. I trust every single person here with my life,” he says, leading her toward a cluster of boulders on the far side of the lake. “Did you get enough to drink? Or eat?” 

“I brought everything I needed in my pack. You don’t have to worry about me.” 

“Worrying about you is ninety-nine percent of what I do.” he watches as the tension slowly dissipates from her shoulders, and her fists unclench. “When we make it to the outpost, I want you to rest after we get our scenario objective. Liam and Violet will stay while I take the third years out to patrol.” 

“I want to help,” She immediately protests. “You brought me because I’m the strongest. I can help.” 

“You can, after you rest up. You have to be at full strength to wield your signet, or you’ll risk burning out.” Genevieve understands what he’s leaving unsaid. She’s been on the cusp of burnout two times, which is two times too many. No way she survives a third. 

She nods, and doesn’t respond. 

“Xaden!” She hears Liam yell, and all of a sudden he spins around so quickly, he’s a blur. Shadows wrap the entire scene, thick as a thundercloud. Genevieve can’t see shit. 

Xaden just grabs her hand, and runs towards where they had heard Liam’s voice. 

“Silly to hide what’s already been seen,” the woman says, her tone curt. “And if rumors are true, there’s only one silver-haired rider in your death factory of a college, which means that’s General Sorrengail’s youngest.” 

“Fuck,” Xaden swears. Violet grips the dagger at her hip, sidestepping out from behind Liam so she can see the scene unfolding in front of her. 

A pair of gryphon riders stands in the meadow about thirty feet away, their beasts eerily silent behind them. They’re about a third of a dragon, but those beaks and claws look just as capable of shredding skin and scale just the same. 

“Tairn!” Genevieve calls out, and she knows Violet has called out for Astrape as well. 

“Coming.” 

“A fucking Sorrengail.” The woman looks only a few years older than them, but she looks like a veteran rider. She arches a dark brow, looking at Violet like she’s something that needs to be shoveled out of the horse stalls. The sound of beating wings fills the air as a handful of dragon riders barrel into the space around them. Bodhi, Imogen, and another third-year with a scarred lip Genevieve vaguely recognize. But no one is reaching for a weapon. 

Thunder crackles in the sky. 

“No!” Liam turns and hauls her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her and pinning them to her sides. 

“What are you doing?” She throws her weight against him, but Liam is too strong. 

A gust of wind hits Genevieve’s side as Tairn lands, Astrape following suit. 

“Holy shit, that one is huge,” the woman says. Around Liam’s immovable arm, Violet sees the riders retreat with quick steps, their eyes flying wide as they look up. 

“Just stay here. Stay calm.” Xaden says to Genevieve, his eyes searching hers for an answer to a question she hasn’t asked. Then he nods at Bodhi who plants his hand firmly around her wrist, keeping her in place. 

What the actual fuck is going on?

“Let. Me. Go,” Violet demands as Xaden strides toward the pair of gryphon riders, and Genevieve is in equal shock as Bodhi’s hand keeps her firmly gripped in place. 

Fear squeezes her heart like a vise that he thinks he can take on the gryphons and their riders himself. 

“I’m sorry Violet,” Liam apologizes, his voice lowering. “I really wish I could.” 

Astrape roars from Violet’s right so hard that spit flies, smacking Liam in the face and making her ears ring. Liam drops his hands and backs away, slowly putting his palms up. “Got it. Point made. No touching.” 

Free from Liam’s grip, Violet spins towards the field as Xaden reaches the riders. 

“You’re fucking early,” he says. 

Genevieve’s eyes narrow, each word from his lips hitting her like arrows. She knew he was smuggling weapons, but to gryphon riders? She’s never even seen a gryphon rider before. Dragons usually burn them to ash before a rider can get a good view. 

“What happened to meeting tomorrow? We don’t have a full shipment,” Xaden says to the gryphon rider, his voice calm and even. 

So this is why he wanted her to stay back? So he could go and do an illegal weapons deal without her knowing? She already knew he was smuggling weapons. She already knew. And yet he still needed to hide this? 

“The shipment isn’t the issue,” the woman says, shaking her head. 

Genevieve can practically see the gears in Violet’s head turning, piecing together the fact that these people she had been brought up to believe were traitors were actually a self-fulfilling prophecy of their heritage, a repeating cycle of betrayal. 

“So you were waiting nearby to chat on the off chance that we’d fly by a full day early?” Xaden asks. 

“We were patrolling from Draithus yesterday—it’s about an hour southeast from here—”

“I know where Draithus is,” Xaden retorts. 

“Never know, you Navarrians act like nothing exists beyond your borders,” the male gryphon rider snarks. “I don’t know why we’re bothering to warn them.” 

“Warn us?” Xaden cocks his head to the side. 

“We lost a village in the vicinity to a horde of venin two days ago. They decimated everything.” 

Genevieve’s eyes fly wide open. She just said what?

Violet and her share a glance. Venin. Holy shit.

That wasn’t a figment of her imagination, right? 

“Venin never come this far west,” Imogen says from her left. 

Venin. Oh my gods. Quinn. Oh my gods. There is not enough air in the world for Genevieve to breathe. Her chest heaves with every forceful breath. 

“Until now,” the woman replies, turning her gaze back to Xaden. “They were unmistakably venin and had one of their–”

“Don’t say anything else,” Xaden interrupts. “You know that none of us can know the details or we put everything at risk. All it takes is one of us being interrogated.” 

“Are you getting this?” Genevieve asks Tairn, glancing at Violet to see if anything else is catching the… nonsense spewing from the woman’s mouth, but everyone else looks horrified, like they actually believe that a village was destroyed by venin. But then again, apparently Quinn died by one. 

“Unfortunately, yes.” 

“Details or not, it looks like the horde is heading north,” the male says. “Straight toward our trading post on the border across from your garrison at Athebyne. Are you armed?’ 

“We’re armed.” Xaden admits. 

“Then our job here is done. You’ve been warned,” the male says. “Now we have to go defend our people. As it is, this side trip only gives us about an hour to reach them in time.” 

Instantly, the atmosphere changes. Xaden looks over his shoulder at Violet, briefly passing over Genevieve. His face is set in grim lines. 

“General Hale’s daughter will be easy enough to convince, but if you think you’ll ever convince a Sorrengail to risk their neck for anyone outside their own borders, then you’re a fool,” the man says with a sneer in her direction. 

The man leans down slightly and looks Violet up and down in obvious judgment. “I wonder what your king would be willing to pay in order to get back the daughter of his illustrious general. I’m willing to bet your ransom would be worth enough weapons to defend all of Draithus for a decade.” 

Astrape snarls. 

“Fuck,” Bodhi mutters, his grip tightening closer on Genevieve. 

“Step away from her,” Genevieve hisses, her vines creeping up the man’s legs, thorns pricking his skin. 

Shadows race menacingly from the pine trees on the edge of the meadow as Xaden raises his hands at his sides, and both gryphon riders tense when the darkness pauses only inches from their feet. “You take a step towards either of them and you'll be dead before you can even shift your weight,” Xaden says, his voice dropping lethally. He glances at Genevieve. “The Sorrengail is not up for discussion.” 

The woman glances from the shadows to the vines, then sighs. “We’ll be there with the rest of our drift. Just signal if you can get away from the disbelievers.” she walks away, leading the man back toward their gryphons. They mount, and launch skyward. 

The entire group is silent, shifting between Genevieve and Violet. 

“Good luck, Riorson.” Imogen tucks a piece of her pink hair behind her ear as they all slowly follow Imogen back toward the lake. It’s just Liam, Violet, Xaden, Bodhi, and Genevieve left. 

“Tairn.” She keeps her breathing steady, her emotions masked. 

“Little soldier?” His giant head swivels in her direction. 

“Venin. They’re real.” She tells him. “And everyone here knew.” 

“Yes, they did.” He agrees, resignation in his tone. 

“You knew all along.”  She practically spits mentally. “You knew that Quinn died from a Venin and didn't tell me that they’re actually real? That the report I found was true?”

“I chose you for a reason.” 

Genevieve’s breath comes fast, a whirwind of fury and anguish brewing in her chest. Her gaze flickers between Xaden and Tairn, desperation mingling with disbelief. Everyone knew. Everyone except her. 

“But you knew.” Her voice breaks, trembling as she forces the word down Tairn’s pathway. Genevieve doesn’t dare meet Liam’s pitying gaze or acknowledge the unspoken apology written on his face. She doesn’t dare look at Violet, whose own betrayed face mirrors her for all different reasons. Her eyes are locked on Tairn instead, pleading for something—understanding, maybe. But the dragon’s cold, unyielding stare remains fixed straight ahead, his silent fury coiling tightly as if debating whether to incinerate Xaden on the spot. 

“Dragons are bound by bods,” Train says, his voice steady, but Genevieve hears the tension, the weariness beneath it. “There is only one other bond more sacred than that of a dragon and its rider.”

A dragon and its mate. Everyone knew but her. Her stomach churns violently. Everyone knew that venin are real, Genevieve made the stupid decision of approaching the one other person kept in the dark when everyone else knew. 

Vines explode from the earth without warning, surging towards Xaden. 

“Tell me, Riorson,” Genevieve says, her voice a poisoned whisper. Her entire body shakes, barely containing the rage that’s been building in her since the moment she realized she was the only one who didn’t know. “How did Quinn die?” 

Xaden’s eyes flicker to the vines that are now creeping toward him, but he doesn’t flinch. 

“Oh shit.” Bodhi mutters, his hands coming up to grip his neck, watching the inevitable storm unfold before them. 

“Gen, let me explain–” Xaden takes a step forward, but his movement is cut short as the vines twist up his legs, thick, black tendrils tightening around him like chains, squeezing his arms until he’s bound. 

Genevieve doesn’t blink. Her voice is sharp as a blad when she hisses, “If you take another step toward me, I swear I’ll fucking kill you.” 

“I think she means it,” Liam warns, his voice tight with tension. 

Xaden’s eyes darken, his jaw clenching, but there’s no fear in him. “I know she does.” His gaze locks with hers. “Everybody back to the shore. Now.”

He tries to move, tries to come closer, but the vines only grow tighter, feeding on the fury that’s coursing through Genevieve’s veins. 

“I know what you’re thinking—” Xaden starts, but Genevieve cuts him off. 

“No, you don’t!” Her voice cracks, a sharp edge of panic lacing through her fury. A tree behind her shatters, black flowers blooming in the wake of her raw power. “How did Quinn die, Xaden? How?! Because Violet told me venin weren’t real. Violet lied to me. Everyone lied to me.” 

“They are real,” Xaden admits softly, the weight of the truth dragging him down. 

Genevieve laughs bitterly, the sound so hollow it hurts him to hear. “Oh, great. Perfect. Then tell me, how did Quinn die? Stop dodging the question.” 

Xaden’s face hardens, shadows coiling around him like a second skin as the vines press tighter, drawing the first beads of blood from his flesh. But she doesn’t care. She’s too far gone for pity now.

“You know how Quinn died, Gen,” Xaden says, his voice a low growl. “It was during War Games my first year. It was a stupid, senseless fight, a petty—”

“Don’t give me that shit!” Genevieve snaps, her voice rising as her fury boils over. Flowers bloom underneath her feet, climbing up her as if they could protect her from the man standing across from her. “Don’t lie to me! You had her dagger, Xaden! You were there! You knew venin were real all along! You knew Quinn was killed by one, and you didn’t say anything! You let me believe—”

Her voice cracks, her pain growing too much to contain anymore. “I had to ask Violet how my own sister died, Xaden. Violet. A Sorrengail. She probably knew, too. Am I the only one who was left in the dark? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I couldn’t tell you,” Xaden growls, the vines tightening as his muscles flex, struggling against them. “You were being interrogated by General Sorrengail every other week. You could have—”

“I didn’t tell her when I found out you were smuggling weapons out of Basgiath, did I?” She snarks, her tone venomous as she throws it back in his face. 

Violet steps forward, her expression darkening with her own fury. “Believe me, Genevieve, I didn’t know either.” She hisses, her voice low, simmering with anger of her own as thunder crashes above them. “Did you ever actually love me?” Tears brim in her eyes as she snaps at Liam. 

Genevieve’s hands shake as her power surges, the ground trembling beneath her feet. “I’m going to kill you, Xaden.” her voice is hollow now, the emotioned drained as her eyes narrow. “Tell me how Quinn died, or I swear to the gods, I’ll end this right here, right now. I have all the time in the world.” 

And as the air between them crackles with tension, Xaden watches her—this girl who just moments ago was wrapped in his arms—transformed into someone he barely recognizes, consumed by grief and rage. He knows, without a shadow of a doubt, she means every word. 

Genevieve’s entire body trembles as her back presses up against Violet, and it feels like it's them against everyone else around them. Her pulse pounds in her ears, the hurt and betrayal bubbling up into a frantic crescendo she can barely contain. The vines that snake around Xaden pulse with her fury, but she can’t find it in herself to tighten them any closer, hurting him any further. 

“But you knew,” she chokes, her voice raw, desperate. “You knew and you let me walk around in the dark, while my sister—” She stumbles, the words getting caught in her throat. “Quinn was out there fighting venin, and you—you just watched her die, didn’t you.” 

Xaden, even under the crushing weight of the vines, keeps his gaze locked on her, regret flashing in his dark eyes. But it’s not enough. It’s never enough. He tries to speak, but she cuts him off, the air crackling with her power, with her pain. 

“And don’t you dare look at me like that,” Genevieve spits, her eyes glossing over with unshed tears. “Like you’re the one hurting here! Like you’re the victim! I’m the one who lost her sister. I’m the one who was lied to!” The air around her warps with her anguish, black petals scattering into the wind as more vines shoot from the earth. “I lied for you. I protected you. I kept your secrets—” she’s at a loss for half of a breath. “I loved you, Xaden.” 

“Love!” he shouts, and Genevieve takes a step back, using her body to shield Violet from him as if his words could penetrate through her and hit someone she so desperately wanted to hide from all of this. “You love me.” 

“I should’ve known,” she whispers, her voice cold and empty, void of anything but the bitter sting of betrayal. “Once a traitor, always a traitor.” 

“Then what does that make you?” He fires back. 

“I’m a traitor to myself!” Genevieve yells, her fist clenched so tightly it draws blood. 

Liam takes a step forward, his arm outstretched as if he wants to pull Violet into a hug and whisper that everything would be all right, and that this was all a dream. 

“If you dare to even try to touch my Sorrengail, I’ll snap your head clear off your neck, Mairi.” 

Genevieve’s heart slams in her chest as her own words echo back at her. My Sorrengail. Her voice cracks under the pressure of it, and she feels a fresh wave of anger and self-loathing crash over her. When had she become so weak? When had she allowed herself to care this deeply, this stupidly, for Violet? For Xaden?

Betrayal laces every corner of her mind, but it’s not just directed at him anymore—it’s directed inward. How could I have let this happen? Her fists are bleeding and red, but no amount of pain seems to be enough to drown out the overwhelming sense of failure. She had prided herself on being strong, on keeping herself closed off, untouchable. But Xaden had slipped past her defenses. He had made her believe there was something more, something worth holding onto. And Violet had wormed her way into Genevieve’s heart so deeply, that even now, in the midst of this storm, all she wanted to do was shield her from the hurt. 

“I betrayed myself,” Genevieve’s chest tightens at her own admission, the words hanging in the air like she’s driven a knife through her own heart. The true implications of her own feelings bear down on her, crushing her spirit even as her rage surges. 

Her heart screams at her that this is wrong. That after everything, Violet should be the first person she should kick to the curb and that she should run into Xaden’s arms, and relish in the fact that her father didn’t die without cause, and the rebellion was alive. But Genevieve can’t help it. This weird, intertwining connection has grown like a vine between her and Violet, twisting itself into every part of her being until she doesn’t know where she ends and Violet begins. 

A sob catches in her throat, but she chokes it down, burying it beneath the raw fury that still burns in her veins. She focuses on Xaden, the man who had once held her heart in his hands but had crushed it instead of protected it. The man who had known all along and said nothing, who had watched her stumble blindly in the darkness left in her sister’s death. 

“I should’ve never let you in. I should’ve never let either of you in.” She repeats, her grip on Violet’s wrist ever tight, as even in repenting her sins of loving the harbinger of her pain’s daughter she can’t let her go. 

Her eyes fall back on Xaden. 

“I would’ve done anything for you had you just told me instead of lying to my face,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible as she meets his gaze. “And maybe that’s my biggest betrayal of all.” 

The vines fall back from Xaden’s body, but Genevieve’s eyes remain tense, focused.

“I’m going to ask you one last time,” Her voice is low, a soft whisper that floats in the air like the snowflakes that had once fallen between them when the only emotion she harbored towards him was lust. “Tell me how Quinn died.” 

—--------------------------------------------

When Xaden Riorson was a first year, the Wingleader of Fourth Wing was a 23 year old girl named Quinn Hale. Quinn, unlike Xaden, didn’t have a rebellion relic, but like Xaden, was the daughter of a leader of the Tyrrish Rebellion. When he first crossed the parapet, she took one look at him, and immediately took him under her wing. 

Quinn knew everything about everyone. She was a genius, and her signet, Truth-Sayer, made her a force to be reckoned with. She was practically unstoppable, and Xaden thought she was the coolest person alive. 

She had the uncanny ability to read people, picking up on their fears, desires, and motivations with unnerving precision. It was a trait that made her a fierce leader but also kept people at a cautious distance. 

To Xaden—Quinn was a mentor, but she was also a symbol of strength and survival—someone who had faced the same scars as he did but found a way to lead without being consumed by them. There were moments when he saw a flash of something else in her—sadness, perhaps even regret—but those moments were fleeting, gone as soon as they appeared. 

It wasn’t until midway through the year that Xaden learned the full extent of Quinn’s burdens. She wasn’t just the Wingleader because of her skill and power, but because she had borne the brunt of the academy’s hidden cost. Quinn Hale had crunched the numbers, done the math, and been to the border enough times to know something else was going on beyond the wards. 

Quinn Hale was the first rider cadet to know about Venin. 

But she never said a single word to anyone—except Xaden. 

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and cast long shadows across the training grounds, Xaden found himself alone with Quinn on the roof, a habit he had learned to form ever since Quinn had started to train him. The air was thick with the tensions she had, and he could sense that there was something weighing heavily on her. 

“Xaden,” she began, her voice low, almost hesitant. “You know there are things we don’t talk about here, things we pretend don’t exist.” She turned her gaze to the distant mountains, the ones in the direction of Aretia. “But I can’t pretend anymore.” 

He swallowed hard, the gravity of her words pressing down on him. 

“What do you mean?” 

Quinn hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of her embellished dagger. “The rebellion isn’t dead,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “The rebellion isn’t dead and there are Venin on the borders.”

Xaden froze at her words, his mind racing. Venin. Venin were scary stories his father used to tell him when he wouldn’t eat his vegetables, they were myths, boogeymen meant to scare young children. He had been sheltered from the rebellion as a teenager, kept at arm's length until it had forced him to grow up too fast. But now Quinn Hale was telling him everything his father had told him was all real, and still alive. 

“You’ve seen them?” he asked, his voice tight with disbelief. 

Quinn nodded, her face set in a grim line. “I’ve seen enough. I’ve been to the border, past farther than the wards and back in Aretia. I’ve watched the way soldiers disappear, how some of them come back changed. And I’ve felt it.” she placed a hand on her chest, as if she could feel the truth of it inside her. “My signet, it doesn’t just reveal lies, Xaden. It forces people to tell the truth, it reveals everything—things people don’t even know they’re hiding from themselves. And the truth is, the rebellion never ceased. I’ve been talking with them… about you.” 

Xaden’s throat tightened. He had always seen Quinn as unshakable, invisible even. But now, looking at her, he saw the burdens. He wanted to ask why she hadn’t told anyone—why she was confiding in him now. But he already knew the answer. The academy wasn’t a place of trust. Even here, among their own, people could be watching, listening. No one was truly safe. 

“Why tell me?” he asked, his voice quieter, laced with caution he hadn’t felt before. 

Quinn met his eyes, and for a moment, the mask she wore for everyone else slipped. There was fear there—real, tangible fear. “Because I see the same fight in you that I see in myself. You’re not here just to survive, Xaden. You want more than that. You want to win.” She paused, her jaw clenching. “And because the leadership knows that I know what I know, they’re going to kill me. Someone needs to fill my footsteps and you need—”

“Don’t say that,” Xaden interrupted, his heart pounding. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.” 

But she shook her head, her expression hardening again. “You don’t know that. You can’t know that.” She turned away, looking back out at the mountain range they had once called home. “There are things in this world bigger than you and me. Bigger than all of us. And if I die, someone needs to replace me. That someone is you.” 

And Quinn was right. 

In the next few months, she narrowly dodged death in Squad Battle, challenges, and patrols time and time again. Until she could no longer run anymore. War Games had come to end her. 

Quinn Hale’s death was swift, sudden, and brutal. 

Xaden had seen the signs—the quiet glances she exchanged with her closest friends, the exhaustion that seemed to dampen her once indomitable presence, the way her voice had lost some of its earlier fire when she commanded. She was still brilliant, still a force to be reckoned with, but something inside her had shifted after that conversation on the rooftop. Quinn had made peace with her fate long before it arrived, and made due to tie up her loose ends, and that acceptance had made her reckless. 

It was the last battle of War Games when it happened. 

The sky was choked with the dust of battle, the clash of dragons echoing in the distance. Fourth Wing was locked in an intense skirmish with Third Wing on the border of the barrens when Quinn, Xaden, Garrick, and two other third years that Quinn were close with were separated from the rest of the wing. 

Everything was chaos, as it always was during War Games, but Xaden had his eyes on Quinn. He watched her, his heart pounding in his chest as her dragon soared above the battlefield, flames licking the edges of her enemy’s wings. 

And then—out of the corner of his eyes—a shadow moved. 

Venin. 

Xaden’s breath caught in his throat as the dark figure emerged from the shadows, moving with impossible speed through the battlefield. The Venin—a creature that he could have never imagined to be real not even six years ago—was real, and it was headed straight for Quinn. 

He shouted, his voice lost in the cacophony of battle, as Quinn’s dragon banked sharply, unaware of the danger that loomed beneath. In that moment, Xaden’s mind raced. He was not weak, not by any means, but he was a first year, and there’s only so much you can do with so little experience. He could barely comprehend the raw power emanating from the creature—its presence alone was suffocating, a twisted darkness that made the air feel thick and impossible to breathe. The venin’s form was monstrous, vaguely humanoid but distorted, its red eyes glowing with a sickening light. 

Quinn didn’t notice until it was too late. 

Her dragon couldn’t react fast enough. The Venin raised its hand, dark energy coiling around its fingers, and in an instant, it unleashed a devastating blast. Ilona screamed, her wings faltering as the dark magic struck her, sending her crashing into the ground. 

Quinn was thrown from her seat, her body twisting in the air as she fell to the ground with a sickening thud. Xaden’s heart dropped as he watched her struggle to stand, blood trailing from a gash on her forehead. He urged Sgaeyl to dive, to get her before the Venin could strike again, but they were too far. 

The Venin advanced on Quinn, its movements slow and deliberate, as though savoring the moment. Xaden shouted her name again, but Quinn didn’t turn. She was already pulling herself to her feet, blood dripping from a gash in her head. Even in her weakened state, she looked defiant. She raised her hand, and her dragon blew flames in a constant, focused stream. 

It erupted from the dragon like a shockwave, the fire slamming into the Venin. For a moment, it stumbled, its form flickering as the potential fragility of its existence was laid out bare. But it wasn’t enough. The venin recovered quickly as if it was never even touched, snarling as it pressed forward. The dragon fire was potent, but the flames were not enough. It couldn’t destroy the creature. 

Xaden reached for his sword, his dragon pushing harder toward the ground, but he knew—he knew they weren’t going to make it in time. 

Quinn’s eyes met his from across the battlefield, and in that split second, Xaden saw everything she’d been hiding. The fear, the regret, the knowledge that this was how it ended. She had been right all along. She had known this was coming. 

With a final cry, Quinn drew her dagger and rushed at the Venin. It was a suicide charge, and she knew it, but she didn’t hesitate. 

The Venin struck first. 

It's dark energy wrapped around her, and for the briefest moment, Quinn’s body went rigid. She gasped, her eyes wide with shock and pain as her body separated from the life of the earth, and then—just as quickly—she collapsed. The Venin withdrew its power, leaving Quinn crumpled on the ground. 

Xaden’s scream ripped through the air as Sgaeyl finally reached the ground. He leaped from her back, rushing to where Quinn lay motionless, his heart pounded in his chest, every muscle screaming for him to move faster. 

But when he reached her, he knew. 

Quinn Hale was gone. 

Xaden fell to his knees beside her, his breath ragged as he gently turned her over. Her eyes were still open, staring blankly at the sky, and her lips were parted as if she had been about to say something. His hands shook as he brushed a strand of hair from her face, his chest tight with grief and rage. 

He had lost her. The one person who looked at him like he was someone beyond Fen Riorson’s son. 

The Venin was gone, disappearing as quickly as it had arrived, leaving nothing but death in its wake. 

Quinn Hale, the unstoppable Wingleader, the genius, the one person who had understood him—who had seen something in him—was dead.

Xaden clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as the weight of it all crashed over him. His mentor, his friend, the woman who had believed in him when no one else had—she was gone. And the leadership, the ones she had warned him about, had allowed it to happen. They had known. 

The rebellion wasn’t dead. And now, neither was his resolve. 

As he stood, the battle still raging around him, Xaden’s eye caught the hilt of her dagger, half buried in the dirt. 

His fingers curled around the hilt of Quinn’s danger, red rubies and vines grounding him in the chaos. The metal was cool, dead, as if it had forgotten every moment she had fought and survived. But now, it was just a reminder of everything that had been taken from him. From them. 

The rebellion wasn’t dead. 

Her words echoed in his mind, louder now in the face of her absence, an undeniable truth that settled into his bones. He’d watched her lead, seen her fight, and witnessed her determination to carry a burden no one else understood. She had taken him under her wing because she knew—she saw—the rebellion wasn’t over. She had been preparing him to carry it forward. 

And now, it was his. 

Xaden’s heart pounded in his chest as he rose to his feet, Quinn’s dagger clenched tightly in his fist. The rebellion wasn’t just an idea, or a legacy tied to his father’s name. It was living, breathing, and it was his now. He had been standing on the sidelines, fighting to survive. But survival wasn’t enough anymore. He understood what Quinn had seen in him: the hunger, the anger, the need for justice. She had given him the tools to carry on the fight. 

The rebellion was his. 

He could feel it in the way the world shifted beneath him, in the way the air thickened with the promise of something darker and more dangerous than anyone could fathom. The leadership had known about the Venin, had known about the dangers, and sent Quinn to her death. They had let them all believe they were safe, and that the threat was gryphons, when the real threat was so much worse. 

Xaden’s grip tightened around the dagger as he turned his gaze toward the battlefield, toward the chaos Quinn had left behind. He would finish what she had started. What his father had started. Not for vengeance, but for the truth. For the rebellion. For the future that she had fought for. 

He mounted Sgaeyl, the weight of Quinn’s loss heavy on his shoulders, but the fire in his chest burned brighter than ever. 

The rebellion was his now. And he would burn the world down before he let it die again. 

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

Hey everyone!! Chapter 24 finally brings the real drama (genevieve 'hating' xaden because lets be for real she doesn't hate him lol)! this was a fun chapter, in my opinion at least, so I hope you all liked it.

Also, what do we think about Quinn's backstory? I would just like to point out that the only reason Genevieve and Xaden really met in the first place all the way back in like chapter 2-3 is because Xaden got into the habit of watching the sunrise on the roof from Quinn (sobbing).

i did some pretty cool things this week - last sunday I saw seventeen, and then i got accepted into a uni on monday, then did halloween on thursday and went to a wave to earth concert yesterday, so not much writing, but I will be back on my grind writing book two this week!

anyways, if you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, or kudo, and I'll see you all on wednesday!!

-------

Taglist: @awkardnerd , @hannraumari , @minjix , @glaciuswduo , @wolfbc97

[bloodyinkandquill]

Rocket x Reader

wrote these after getting off of phighting, was very fun phighting is so good shsigsjshsk, anyways enjoy!

- When you first met Rocket you thought he was hyper and kind of annoying, fast forward to you two dating, you did not see that one coming but hey, boyfriend acquired so who cares

- While yes he is sorta hyperactive and a bit loud sometimes you love that about him, it’s part of who he is and you love everything about him, and he loves everything about you right back, even if not through words he shows his love for you a lot, especially through touch, he’s very clingy, he likes hugging you, holding you, holding your hand, draping himself across your legs or having you drape yourself over him, he just wants to be in contact with you at all times

- He probably uses those really cheesy embarrassing pet names just to make you embarrassed and annoyed with him, stuff like shnookums or cutiepie, but actually he calls you sweet things in private when he doesn’t wanna be an ass, if you do it back he turns it into a game, who can call the other a more weird/embarrassing name, whoever can’t think of something or whoever gets too embarrassed and asks the other to stop first wins, he’s very competitive but he has admitted defeat a couple times before

- You definitely help Rocket with trimming his horns, cleaning his rocket, basic maintenance on his arm and leg, etc, while he can do those things by himself it’s difficult, especially his horns and since Zuka ‘thinks it’s stupid’ he usually asks you or Sword to trim them, then it’s difficult to repair his arm when he only has the one to use

- Speaking of his arm it has occurred more than once where you slept over at his or he slept at your and the next morning you have to spend 5 minutes finding his fucking leg because he put it somewhere the night before and can’t remember where so he can’t fucking walk, he gets all grumbly and huffy even when you remind him it’s his fault he doesn’t know where his leg is, if your at his place and you just cannot find it he puts on an old one that’s not bionic and is more like a peg leg and hobbles around to help you find it

- For dates he probably enjoys movie nights, semi fancy dinners, gaming into the early morning, a lot of quality time stuff, but don’t get him wrong his love language is physical touch during all of it he’s touching you somewhere, arm, leg, head, whatever, something of his is on you or something of yours is on him

- Chronic clothes thief, hoodie? Rocket is gaslighting you into thinking it’s always been his, but not actually it’s a silly goofy thing not a toxic thing, some accessory you wear commonly? You take it off for a second and he’s got it on, don’t even get started on if he spends the night at your place, you wake up after him and nothing he’s wearing is his, it is all from your closet

- DO NOT LET THIS MAN IN THE KITCHEN. Early on in the relationship he offered to make you breakfast, Zuka had to grab a fire extinguisher. You learned a valuable lesson to never let him cook, he forgot the water in ramen, SIX TIMES. If you can’t cook either you guys eat a lot of take out or rely on Zuka, luckily he can cook, though some of it is solider ration meals because of his past, so honestly if you also can’t cook you might just wanna pick up food for everyone’s sakes

- He feels ashamed about his past and hates talking to you about it, it was a awful part of his life and he has the scars to prove it, you don’t push which he is grateful for as he doesn’t want you to think less of him for the violence and anger that was teenage him

hope you enjoyed! i had fun writing it and j think it’s good, i feel like i’m missing something though, idk its midnight maybe im just over thinking lol, if i do remember i forgot something i’ll add it

[mancer-in-the-abbey]

hi mancer!! so i was just perusing my own alpha ghoul tag and came across your soulmate au ficlet (that i ADORE) and was wondering if you had any more soulmate headcanons or thoughts for the other papas or ghouls. only if it itches your brain, of course!

♡- @ghuleh-recs

HOOOOOOOMYGOD I am so sorry this has taken me so long to get to 😭 I was completely out of the fandom there for a hot minute but I’m back now that I have the time to write again. Thanks so much!! I’m so glad you liked it, that means the world to me, genuinely!

Part of the reason this took so long is because ohhhhhh boy, let me tell you, the story of Copia’s soul marks is a train wreck since I am a DIEHARD for Copia x Polyghouls. Here’s a link to the original concept for those interested, this got a bit long so I’m putting most of it under a read more :)

Now anyway:

Copia, unlike Terzo, was not born with any soul marks. In fact, he lived the majority of his life completely blank, no sign of any soulmate to begin with.

This, while certainly uncommon, isn’t the most unheard of. Sometimes people just… don’t have a soul mate. This is an especially prevalent phenomenon amongst The Clergy, who celebrate a lack of soulmate as a sign of being favored by The One Below, a true freedom away from fate as written.

And this is all well and good, but for Copia it was just one more difference between him and his brothers, all of whom have soul marks. I mean, even Secondo had a soul mark! Secondo! And HE doesn’t?? Feels a little personal. Imperator tries to comfort him on the subject in her own way, but phrasing it as having “no distractions from your duty as part of the church” really just makes him feel more alone than anything.

Be that as it may, Copia spends the majority of his adult life under the impression that he has no soulmate. It hurts some days more than others, but it is something he learns to accept over the years.

Until one day, after a completely mundane shift at the treasury, Copia strips off his Cardinal uniform to find his entire right forearm almost completely black, with trails of galaxies and stardust spiraling up from his wrist before petering out at the elbow.

So Copia quietly freaks the fuck out because “unholy shit what the fuck is this I’m never going to be able to wear short sleeves again” but eventually he puts two and two together to realize this must be a soul mark, which must mean his soulmate was either JUST born (ew) or was just summoned from Hell (much more plausible and much less ew.)

And Copia is utterly ecstatic! He has a soulmate! Praise Satan! Dude spends the rest of the week giggling to himself about it, so much so his brothers think he’s got an honest-to-Asmodeus crush on someone and all of them are desperate to know who their favorite little rat has got their eye on.

At their behest, Copia promises to show them what exactly he’s been so excited about at their next game night. On the night of, he strips off his uniform and rolls up his sleeve-

Only to find more patterns bleeding up his elbow where there once was blank skin.

Taking off his button-up shirt reveals that the spiral of stars and nebulas had grown into drops and rivulets of water, creeping up his right arm like rain on a window and spilling into a pool on his deltoid.

Copia, nearly has a fucking heart attack while the rest of his brothers stare in awe at the art, holding his arm this way and that so the patterns are visible in the dim light of the game room. As they start to brainstorm who the tattoos might match to, however, Copia cuts in, not wanting to rush into finding his soulmates.

For one, if they really were freshly-summoned ghouls like he thought, they’d likely not be familiar with the concept and starting out the gate with such a proclamation would scare them off. For another, while Imperator might have a soft spot for Copia and is much less the monster some make her out to be, she would still likely have opinions about her little Cardi suddenly being cosmically tied to a bunch of lowly ghouls.

So, it was decided that Copia would be patient about things, opting to hide his soul marks under his uniform till the day came where they lit up into color on their own. He didn’t care how long it took; just knowing there were two special people out there cosmically meant for him gave him more private joy than he’d ever had before.

It was another year before anything new happened, and when it did Copia was so busy that he didn’t even notice until someone pointed out a weird shape poking over his clavicle.

It was an awkward affair, angling himself just right in front of the mirror as to get a view of the full mark, but sure enough, a new pattern wound it’s way up his right shoulder, across his upper back and collarbone, and down the left. This time, the mark took the form of angular tree branches decorated with leaves and flowers.

This tattoo, unlike the others, did not remain a mystery for long, as Copia was very enthusiastically introduced just a day later to Primo’s new assistant: the single tallest earth ghoul he’s ever seen, with muddy brown hair, a sharp but sturdy build, and antlers that branched in a way not unlike the wood etched in his skin.

It may not have been love at first sight, but something deep inside Copia told him that this was the one, that this ghoul was one of the ones he would share his heart with. He wanted to start off strong, say something smooth and flirty that might entice the ghoul in front of him to seek him out in the future.

Instead, of course, Copia stared and stutterd like a broken steam engine. He left the encounter thoroughly embarrassed and Mountain left thoroughly confused as to what about him had this higher clergy member so frazzled.

It wasn’t the greatest of introductions. But it would get better, right? They were soulmates, it would HAVE to get better eventually.

Still, it left Copia even more reluctant to take any action. After all, his track record with social interactions was almost famously lackluster, and with that introduction being as bad as it was, it didn’t exactly give him much confidence.

And so the months started to slip by. Weeks of work and bureaucracy flew past as he and his brothers grew older, as Secondo was forced to abdicate the position of Papa, as Terzo rose to take his place, as Copia’s career stagnated with no clear aim forward. Weeks on top of months stacked into two whole years of watching the world turn, sneaking the occasional wistful glance at that tall, proud figure toiling in the garden and the green house.

There was a minor shift in the monotony after the incident with Alpha and the remaining band ghouls of the previous era. With most banished back to the Pit and the lucky few remaining forced into retirement, the Ghost project was in need of new faces if it wanted to survive. For the first time since Ghost’s revival in the mid 2000’s, auditions were open to all branches across the globe, with specific summonings reserved in the case that no satisfactory replacement could be found. Copia, though not related to the project personally and already burdened with a SUPREMELY busy schedule, offered his ear and opinion to Terzo throughout the process.

It was through this that he first came to know the ghouls named Aether and Dewdrop: not in person, no, but in the form of headshot photos and audition recordings.

Later, once both were hired onto the team formally and moved to the Italian branch, Copia got to meet the two in person, however the interaction was brief. Taking up a position as head of the Treasury in a desperate attempt to shake the monotony of a dead-end job left him with little time to spend around the Ministry’s crowning achievement. The most he could hope for was that he didn't embarrass himself too badly in front of these new ghouls, although why he cared so badly about the opinions of two strangers, he couldn't tell.

And so, another year passed. Copia found enough time to peek in on one or two of the band’s practices, but never long enough to speak after, never mind get any of the band ghoul’s names.

And then, very suddenly, Copia was forced to give the Ghost Project his undivided attention.

The days after his brothers deaths were a complete blur of anxiety, grief, shock, and the overwhelming need to keep going before anything else could go wrong. When it was time to summon replacements for the ghouls lost in the aftermath, he was barely able to pull himself together enough to perform the rituals correctly, and even then it wasn’t perfect.

One five-way hybrid ghoul, two ghoulettes, and a water ghoul later, Copia was drained mentally and physically. 3 summonings in rapid succession would take the wind out of anyone, but such unorthodox summonings to boot had him light-headed. Honestly, he was just thankful the last one was normal. If there would be a spectacle every time he summoned, he might actually vomit.

He barely even remembered taking off his uniform when he went to sleep that night.

The next day, Copia very blearily woke up and found he forgot to remove his glove from his left hand. He goes to take it off. And then is startled into jarring clarity when he finds his whole left arm looks like it was dipped in pitch black ink up to his elbow.

A mirror reveals the full damage: the complete black blurs and smears into a gradient of grey, going from dark to light the further up the arm it gets, interspersed with rays of light through water. Turning around reveals his back to be a collage of clouds, going from wispy and light trails at the top to large, fluffy ones hanging near the bottom.

Copia stared at the images on his skin for a long while, moving them this way and that. Then, with very shaky hands, he picked up his phone and made a call to Imperator, letting her know he'd come down with something and needed a sick day. He’s still recovering from such a stressful summoning, you understand. He'd be right as rain tomorrow. He just needed a day to process everything going on.

————————————————————

Meanwhile, with the band ghouls:

Swiss: Hey so like this new flesh suit came with a free rat skull tattoo? It's got some shit written around it about never walking alone too? Any idea what to do with that?

Cumulus: Yeah, me and Cirrus have one of those too! Except the words are different for both of ours. Hers is all about bewitching. Mine's... something, something, sun, moon, stars in the sky? Is that normal?

Aether, Dew, and Mountain, all making eye contact with each other knowing damn well what those "tattoos" are and that they all have similar marks too but not wanting to freak out these Fresh Out The Pit new ghouls: Yeah haha that's totally normal, don't worry about it too much :)

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Do you think Marinette really loves Adrien or does she loves the idea of him in her head?

Idk but I'm agree with Alya in Elation that you can't really love someone you don't know and Marinette arguably know Adrien only on surface level, either from the magazines or stalking him. We never got a scene where they talk together to get to know each other and then BAM! They just get together.

I also feels like Adrien's love for Marinette also more a rebound than anything. The writers can say anything they want, that Adrien fell in love with Marinette in Pupeteer2. But you don't develop feelings for someone you barely know, especially when in that said episode Adrien still think Marinette hate him. It's just weird. But again, idk, maybe it just me because I don't catch feelings to someone I barely talk to. That's just creepy AF no offense.

It's really hard to say because canon is all over the place when it comes to how close Adrien and Marinette are. Season three and four make them feel like little more than acquaintances, but if you think back to seasons one and two, they legitimately were friends.

Adrien turned to Marinette for dating advice (Frozer). Marinette and Adrien gamed for hours to prepare for a tournament (Gamer). Marinette and Adrien went to a party with their friends and danced together (Despair Bear). Marinette, Adrien, and their friends worked together to make a movie (Horrificator). I could go on, but the general gist is that it feels disingenuous to say that they barely interact. They interact a lot! It's just limited to the first two seasons.

I scanned through the episode list while writing this and seasons one and two have them interact in a meaningful way in about half of the episodes while seasons three and four got distracted by the new love interests, Lila, and the awful broken Ladynoir dynamic, dramatically cutting back on the Adrinette content to the show's detriment.

The other issue is that Marinette's crush is written more and more like a celebrity crush as the seasons go on, making it feel less and less genuine. So it's understandable to feel like she doesn't really love Adrien given how the show presents her, but if you tone down the crush to a non-comedic level, it does feel earned to me and I am also the kind of person that needs to know someone before developing feelings. Celebrity crushes and instant love are things I rarely enjoy in media probably at least in part because I'm ace.

I actually didn't get truly invested in the love square until Origins showed us why they first developed feelings. There's a reason I treat that episode as the golden standard for characterization. It's some of the best writing Miraculous has ever done. The writers crammed an impressive amount of content into 40 minutes and elevated the silly teen crushes into something with real substance. I will forever be sad that the rest of the show falls so short of that episode.

Moving on!

The Puppeteer 2 thing feels like a bad joke and it might be? It's hard to tell given how weird this show can get with its humor. Either way, it would have made a lot more sense and been much cuter if Adrien fell for Marinette when she unknowingly confessed her crush to him Glaciator 2 instead of falling for her after she accidentally forces a kiss on him during a prank gone wrong.

As for the rebound element... yeah, I don't disagree. Everything about the reverse crush was just weird because Ladybug falling for Chat Noir felt way more honest and earned than Adrien falling for Marinette given the way seasons five plays. I mean, the episode right before the reverse saw Ladynoir get married and have children, but Adrien is the one whose feelings are true and Marinette is the one having a rebound? Sure, writers. Sure.

If the reverse had happened right off of the season four finale, though? Then that actually could have worked. In those episodes, Marinette supported Adrien while their friends were oblivious to his true feelings, Adrien finally saw just how much pressure Ladybug was under, and Chat Noir supported Ladybug unconditionally in her darkest hour. I'm personally not a fan of the crushes switching mid-show, but I'd be lying if I said that wasn't a solid setup to lead into it. Adrienette and Ladynoir had never felt closer.

I think it's fair to say that this is why Miraculous is such a complex show for a lot of fans. It has truly spectacular setups, but the payoff always seems to fall flat on its face.

[unhinged-summer-fun]

common grounds (oshamir) - chapter 14

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x Qimir "The Stranger" Warnings: It's fite nite y'all.

A/N: Dividers by meeee. Also, to celebrate the end of Act 1, this is a two-part drop. I will work as fast as I can to ensure the post is up to snuff, but if you cannot click the link to Chapter 15 at the bottom, try refreshing the page or looking at the series masterlist!

series masterlist

chapter 14: pre-game

Osha tied off the apron around her waist and did a few ankle stretches to prepare for her short shift at the bar. She was about to call it good and clock in a few minutes early when Medora entered the break room.

“Hiii Osha!” she sang, bubbly as ever. She’d been on every shift Osha had so far and had shown her the ropes a little better than Kana had. Anything you need, I’ve got you. It’s quite the boy’s club down here and up there, so we gotta stick together and look out for one another.

“Hi, Medora,” Osha said, enraptured by her coworker’s chaotic entrance. Medora spilled the contents of her purse across the table and pored over it while she spoke.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here; thought you’d be part of the crowd.” She briefly abandoned her search to hang up her jacket. “Alright, where the crap is it…”

“No, Kana tempted me with that double time.”

“Always does—HA!” She held a tube of lipgloss aloft in victory. “Thank god, I spent all day worried.”

“What’s that?”

“My secret weapon. Pretty servers get pretty tips.”

“That seems…” Terrible. Misogynistic. Probably true. “Logical.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s awful, but I like money.” Medora juggled a few cosmetics in one hand as she held up a small mirror in the other. Osha caught her eye in the tiny reflection, and Medora gave a once-over. “You look nice. I’m assuming you aren’t dolled up for cash tips?”

Osha flustered. “Oh, uh. I’ve been trying to wear more makeup. In general. You know. Tips.” But that wasn’t the real reason. After dance night, and then after she’d left some on his coffee cup (This for me? Yeah, that’s for me.), Osha fully believed in the power of wearing lipstick around Qimir. Perhaps wishful thinking got her into this mess, but the compliment from Medora made her feel less… silly.

“Well, regardless of who you’re dressing up for, that color looks amazing on you.”

“I’m not—”

“You can dress up for yourself, you know.” She raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow. “I do it all the time.” She winked at Osha. “In fact, I’m doing it right now.”

Osha smiled, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. She took another seat and watched Medora work while she chattered about her day.

It reminded Osha of her mama, many many years ago. Every few mornings, she would take the time to sit at her vanity and painstakingly twist each loc and braid into a new intricate hairstyle that suited her fancy.

She knew, in retrospect, that this time was a precious commodity to her mother—just a few minutes of quiet that Osha tried her best to preserve, though her sister did not seem to notice. Mae had asked a million questions—about the process, about the history of the styles, about any and everything. But her mama was always happy to be around her daughters, answering each question with patience and respect. She also made sure to smile at Osha, reminding her that she remembered she was there.

It was rare, after losing her, to be remembered at all when she was quiet.

“Would you—um.” Osha hated this. She hated vulnerability, especially around people she hardly knew.

“What’s up?” Medora drew her riot of curly hair back into a high ponytail, then let it back down when it didn’t please her.

“My sister and I didn’t really grow up around—well, we lost our—she was actually kind of popular at school so she—I have no idea what I’m doing, really.” She was grateful Medora was the only one bearing witness to her idiocy. I could always leave town if this conversation blows up in my face. Start over. Live in the woods. Take a fake name. But first, one more shot at courage: “I never learned how to do any of that. We weren’t around many women who were dressed up.”

Medora just smiled. It filled Osha’s heart with something warm, like the memory of a Sunday morning in a place that no longer existed. “I got you,” Medora said.

Within a few giggling seconds, she had put Osha’s hair in a new style she was no longer hiding behind. This will show off your neck and cheeks—you have a beautiful smile, don’t keep it from the world. She went back and freed a few locs from her bangs—now this will make you alluring. And it’ll hide any eyeliner sins in a pinch. You have such beautiful hair. Just shake your hair a little and it’s like a baby with keys to anybody looking.

It was so simple in retrospect. So much impact, just out of reach because of all she’d lost. Medora clapped happily when Osha looked utterly stunned by the change. “You’re going to get tipped, baby!”

It was an incredible feeling. She’d had the same style since she was a child—easy to maintain, comfortable, familiar. Mae had grown her hair out a few times, but in recent years had gone back to matching Osha. It made the misidentifying in the gym a much more frequent occurrence.

Changing things up made her feel like an entirely different person.

Kana poked his head into the break room, holding a disgusting-looking bucket hat at his side. “What are you two giggling about?”

“You, of course.”

He rolled his eyes. “C’mon, we’re doing the draw. Would you grab them for me, please?”

Medora began plucking the time cards out of their slots and handing them to Osha. She found the common thread: these were the time cards of those on shift tonight. When she left several behind, including Kana, Osha, and herself, Osha went to reach for them and was stopped.

“I grabbed all I need.”

“But yours and—”

“Oh, I don’t go in the draw. Neither do you.”

“Huh?”

“You’ll see.”

She led the way to the kitchens, where everyone circled around Kana and his stupid hat. He collected the time cards in the hat and shook them around. “Okay, hey! Shut up! Drumroll, please. Tonight’s tuh-ripple pay bouncer is…” He plucked a card from the rest. The impromptu clatter ceased. “Dante!”

The gathered mass responded with a mix of cheers and groans, reminding Osha of watching her first fight at Unknown Planet. As ever, this place baffled her as much as it made her smile.

Kana returned the timecards to Medora with a soft thanks before leaving for front-of-house. She explained what just happened as Osha helped put the cards back in their places.

“Here’s Eltara’s, you’re closer—have you guessed what all that was about?”

“Bouncer duty?”

“Yup.”

“Triple pay?”

“Yup.”

Osha slid the card into a slot neatly labeled ELTARA LOHARNE. “Why’d you leave some behind? I thought Kana would be in it, at least.”

“Kana got the honors last month. Your name stays in the hat until you get picked, and after that, it stays out of the hat until everyone’s gone once. Then they’re all put back in again. Triple time has the capacity to wreak havoc on workplace relations.” She scribbled a little red star in the corner of Dante’s time card, then pointed out the same mark on Kana’s. “So we don’t mix ���em up.”

“But my name didn’t go in.” Did they think Osha couldn’t do it?

“You haven’t won a fight in the cage… yet. Once you do, you’re in.”

Osha hoped that once she won a fight, she would be in every fight night after, like Qimir. But she hadn’t gone up against anybody for years now, and there was no telling if she’d even win that first match.

“That might be a while,” Osha sighed. “He seems to be overly cautious with my training.” She tapped Qimir’s slot, sitting just above hers. He’d gotten a normal label, Q LOHARNE. Kana had thought putting an OSHA COMPLIANT sticker on hers instead was hilarious.

“I mean, you don’t gotta be nominated by Q. Kana would nominate you if you asked him. Anybody who saw that spar a few days ago would nominate you—that was badass.”

“You saw that?” Osha cringed a little.

“Hell yeah, I did!” Medora laughed and finished her stack of cards. “I’d be so jazzed if I saw you on bouncer duty. I’d just sit and wait for you to toss some huge idiot down the stairs.”

“Thank you?”

“But it’s not just about capability. It’s about respect. If you have a win, especially an uncontested win, gen-pop will listen. The more wins under your belt, the more clout you collect, the less of a hard time they’ll give you. It’s math.”

Osha noticed there was no red star on Medora’s timecard.

“Why aren’t you in the pool?”

Medora’s smile was sad, a faraway quality to her eyes. “I train, but I don’t want to fight. Not every Loharne is made for the cage.”

Qimir had said there were Loharnes all over the city—orphaned children that carried the name into maturity. Nearly half of all the names on the rack were Loharnes—Q and Kana, who were already known to her, but seeing MEDORA LOHARNE near the bottom was a bit of a surprise, given that she wasn’t as reserved in her emotions as Qimir and Kana sometimes were. Osha remembered being numb to most of her feelings for the first year following her mothers’ deaths. Some days, she didn’t think she’d grow out of it.

“I understand that,” Osha said softly. “But I don’t even know why I’m disappointed. I’m sure it’ll be ages before I’m ready.”

“Only you can decide when you’re ready to face something. Having someone you trust to back you up when you do decide is encouraging, though.”

That was news. “Huh?”

“The nomination system.” Medora tucked a few things in the pockets of her apron. “Depends how you look at it, I guess. Take the heart out of it, and it’s just like… co-signing on a loan. At first, it was almost an indemnity clause, considering what it took to implement the system in the first place. That was a bit of a nightmare—the whole Lance thing.” Her face went a little stony at the mention.

“Lance?”

Medora quirked her head to the side. “The guy who attacked Idise ten years ago? I’m surprised Q hasn’t told you. It was and—well, still is big news here.”

“Oh!” Osha flustered. “I—he told me about it, I just didn’t know the guy’s name.” Even so, she didn’t know there was so much gossip she was missing out on.

“Yeah. Like I said. Nightmare. But anyway, if you’re a romantic, the nomination thing is so swoon-worthy. Back when it started, I heard people talk about how it represented this culmination of a relationship with someone at the gym—you spend so much time training with somebody that you form a special connection. Then they say you’re ready. Not only that, but they’re ready—to tie their reputation to yours when you get in the ring. Maybe I’ve just read too many bodice-rippers, but where else do you sign your name next to someone like that but a marriage certificate?”

Osha tried her best not to walk straight into a wall, and failed. Medora didn’t comment, too wrapped up in her diatribe.

“Then again, the whole thing could be a comedy—in the way that comedy is just tragedy plus time. You do all that, you subscribe to the ideology, someone vouches for you—and then you get your shit rocked in a nomination match? Now that’s embarrassing. The person who vouched for you gets remembered for your fuckup. Until a new embarrassment takes your place, that is. See? Tragedy plus time equals comedy.”

Osha still couldn’t bring herself to laugh about it. But Medora certainly wasn’t joking.

Kana released her from her shift about ten minutes after the crowd went upstairs. She bypassed the public staircase (where Dante dutifully stood his post) and headed directly to the dressing rooms to change, knowing at least one fighter would let her in.

Her path brought her face to face with another person headed in the other direction. He was handsome, in an I-got-my-nose-job-from-a-fist kind of way. Osha didn’t recognize him, but Unknown Planet was an all-hours joint. They could have differing schedules.

He didn’t recognize her either, asking, “Are you and I fighting tonight?” He gave her a slow once-over. He was about three times her size, but Medora’s enthusiastic vision of Osha tossing some huge idiot down a flight of stairs kept her from feeling intimidated or creeped out. She took no offense, knowing the brash culture of Unknown Planet was a fact of life. In some ways, she liked it.

She noticed the green balaclava in his hands. Brawler.

“Not tonight, buddy.”

“Aw, we’re buddies? I’d love to be friends, thank you.”

Osha laughed. Years of intensely repressed connection at the Temple had set her up for failure when it came to flirting (and, honestly, friendship), but Unknown Planet didn’t care for formality. In fact, they were at times brazen enough to hit on her in the brief seconds Qimir stepped away during their sessions. It was almost a game, how long can I flirt with Osha before her scary dog gets back and glares me to death. As superficial and vapid as it was, it made her feel wanted. Accepted. Welcomed.

And it drove Qimir insane when she engaged with it.

“Sure. Let’s be friends, Sour Patch.”

He looked delighted, but a new voice cut in with a razor’s edge—right on cue.

“Osha.”

Hello, my strange, scary dog.

Qimir stood on the upper landing of the stairs, looking more than ready to charge the man in front of her if she gave the signal.

“I was just headed up,” she assured him. She turned to the fighter before her. “I’ll just slip by you, thanks!”

Sour Patch let his hand brush her lower back, and she threw an exaggerated scowl over her shoulder. “See you around, buddy,” he said playfully, pocketing his mask and entering the gym level.

Qimir’s expression was overwhelmingly displeased when she arrived on the landing. “Are you alright? Did he try anything?”

He looked her over without trying to hide it, assessing her in hopes of finding the tiniest justification to pound Sour Patch into a fine paste.

“Of course I’m alright. He’s harmless.”

“He’s a brawler.”

“You’re a brawler.”

He pouted at the comparison.

“C’mon, I wanna change before the fights start.”

This time, when a hand came to rest on her lower back, she didn’t scowl. At the zing of sensation that rippled up her spine, Osha stood up straighter, preening at the attention. Qimir walked side by side with her, holding his ground even as other masquerade fighters were made to squeeze against the wall as they passed by. Like schools of fish yielding to a great white shark.

Beyond the black door, everything quieted. The usual pulse of we’re alone bled through her awareness as it always did when the world was shut away from them. Instead of getting caught in the moment, she did what she came here to do—change her clothes.

“How was your first shift?” Qimir asked.

She unbuttoned her black blouse, fighting the demons telling her to go out in the dressing room and do this. “It was fine.”

“I’m glad.” She could hear him fiddling with KT tape in the other room, the plasticky slide of release film dropping in a familiar pattern as he smoothed tape over his thumb, his—

She remembered, once, coming back from the showers at the pool to find him lined up in front of the mirror in the studio, shorts tugged way high one hip as he smoothed two lengths of gray tape from his inner thigh up to the crease of his hip. Hip flexor acting up, he’d said. Osha hadn’t been able to think straight through her whole cooldown.

She wondered if it was acting up tonight.

“N-nearly ran out of pockets for tips.”

“I’m not surprised,” he chuckled. Pretty servers get pretty tips, Medora had said. Osha tried not to read so deeply into three words as to pull a compliment out of thin air. It felt so incredibly silly of her to think, but there was still a small voice in her head asking does he think I’m pretty?

They chatted a little more, but there was an undertone in his voice that harkened back to when he picked her up earlier that evening.

Is everything alright?

When she saw him in the parking lot, she was hit by a wave of tension. Everything Indara told her that afternoon weighed her down and almost froze her feet in place. Crimes. Private investigator. Gangs. She wanted to tell him what was going on, wanted to do anything to let him know her sympathies had deepened, strengthened from a current to a riptide.

I can tell something’s the matter.

It wasn’t like Osha was in the practice of hiding her emotions from him. Sometimes, he knew her moods better than she did. But this time, she’d been very aware of her anxiety.

We don’t have time to get into it, but trust that I’ll be okay, Qimir.

He’d left it at that, but had been a little quiet during the drive to the bar.

And now he seemed to want to ask again.

“I got to witness the bouncer draw,” she said lamely.

She knew Qimir would never ambush her in here, but even in the relative privacy the bathroom provided, she felt like someone—something—was watching her.

Her voice trailed off from what she was saying when she noticed the Smiley mask draped on the little sink. Without him wearing it, the mask felt a little more sinister. A memory whispered why.

We wear masks and take fake names to prevent the guilt from killing us. Beneath the mask… There is no honor or glory in winning that mask. And the only people who know that are the ones who win it, the ones who have to wear the mask.

She didn’t know what came over her when she reached out to touch it for the first time. She ran a fingertip over the embroidered silver teeth that slashed through the black. Some were jagged and broken, some were whole. Some were over large, others miniscule and precise. It was an uncanny grin, more teeth than should be there—stretching almost ear-to-ear.

She discovered that there was more hiding in the dark fabric than she thought: parts of the material which had been frayed or ripped in the past were stitched back together in a patchwork manner she hadn’t been able to see before. She looked closer at one of the gnarled lines of black thread on the back of the hood, stretching almost ornamentally from one side to the other, in a thick snarl that resembled a familiar scar—

“Try it on.”

Osha yelped, jumping out of her skin.

“Fucking shit, Qimir!” she yelled. “What?”

He looked deeply amused by her antics, leaning on one side of the doorframe. “You should try it on,” he repeated calmly.

She frowned down at the mask clutched in her fist. “Are you trying to give me conjunctivitis or something?”

“Do I look like I have pink eye?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

The little eye-holes stared back at her from her hands, and she had to admit, she was tempted.

“Can you even see in this?” she asked.

“Not really. None of us can. It’s like a sensory deprivation experience.”

“What’s the point of that?” she scoffed. “Seems counterintuitive—the most exciting fight of the night, the eight wildest fighters, and they’re all blinded.”

“If we could see each other perfectly, the fight would be over too quickly. Like this, it’s just you…” he shuffled closer, trapping her against the sink while looking down at the mask in her hands. “And what you bring with you.”

She attempted to dodge out of the verbal corner he’d backed her into. The physical corner, however, she made no attempt to leave. “Someone told me you never let a fight get over eight minutes in the cage.”

He shrugged. “I don’t think about that when I’m in there, wearing that.”

“What do you think about, then?”

“Try it on and find out.” That was the third time he’d told her to.

“Fine.” She turned to the mirror, making sure to be careful with Medora’s efforts as she pulled the mask over her head. To her surprise, the mask wasn’t scratchy or unpleasant. It hugged every part of her face, none of the fabric sagging or bunching up uncomfortably. It took her some finagling to get the eyes in the right spot, but when she looked up at her reflection…

She’d seen her face more than most. Mirrors were one thing, but when another person wore the same face as you, it made you more aware of how you looked.

Her eyes looked different in the mask. Accepting that the person staring back at her was herself felt like swallowing a hot stone. It was intense and it was strange, but the longer she held her own gaze, the more she understood why the other fighters felt capable of violence. Behind such flimsy anonymity, consequences seemed far away.

Turning her head this way and that, she tested the peripheral vision afforded to her. There was very, very little.

“Yeah, you’re right, I can’t see sh—oh.” She made to turn around, but came in contact with an immovable wall at her back.

Qimir looked utterly enchanted by the sight of her in his mask, eyes going between her reflection and what was before him. One of his hands caged her against the small sink, and the other went up to hold her chin, moving her this way and that. The silver embroidery caught and fled from the light like fish scales in a river. One tooth would disappear as she turned her head left, only to reappear when she turned back. His thumb brushed over the edge of the smile, just below her cheekbone.

She wondered if he could feel the heat in her face as easily as she felt the heat in his hands.

“When I fight,” he said softly, hypnotized, “I use all senses available to me. My eyes aren’t the best on their own, but your eyes can deceive you. We must not trust them.” Osha felt a curl of unease twist around the curl of desire strengthening in her core. She knew that line, she’d heard it before—“To become so reliant on what you can see will betray you when what you didn’t see becomes the real danger.”

His hand came around to cover her mouth, pausing a moment as he hid the smile from view before he dragged his fingers back across every inch of that smile. “I can tell where they are just by breathing. Fear has a taste, a scent, and they all fear me.”

It tickled as he brushed a thumb over her ear, the fabric making a soft, crushing noise against it that made her shiver. “I listen for them, through the screams of the crowd. Some breathe so loud I could hit them in the dark.”

His hand moved back to cover her mouth, then drifted downward, over her chin and under her jaw to wrap lightly around her neck—then he rested his hand over her pounding heart. “Another reason to control your breathing—to hide from me.”

She almost moaned as his hand brushed the side of her breast on its way to take her hand, moving it to press against her belly. He brought his lips down beside her ear. “The sense of feeling is tied closely to intuition. You have to know your body and its impulses in order to feel where things are in relation to you. When you understand the signals your body gives you, it will tell you everything you need to know.” He paused to ensure her eyes were on his.

They looked almost obscene like this in the mirror, his body curled around hers, trapping her like prey. “Especially the pain,” he whispered, lips drifting to where the mask ended in the crook of her neck. “The pain tells you how to survive, if you listen to it. If you feel it, if you taste it.”

The white-hot slide of his tongue over Osha’s bare shoulder pulled a weak whimper from her, and just as quickly as it had come, he left, lifting his head again and drawing backwards. His parting words were, “I don’t think about anything when I wear this. I feel everything.”

He let go of her, leaving her slightly sagging against the sink. Looking over her shoulder at him, his expression told her he would not apologize for invading her space like that, for touching her so—so… possessively. Tonight, he was at his rawest self, primal in a way few men could truly become.

He wanted her, no doubt about it. And she wanted him, but… first, a touch of shyness. 

She broke his gaze to peel off the mask, fixing her hair as she chattered through her nerves. She noticed him sliding the mask off the sink, pocketing it without a word. “I bet my first time in the ring, I’ll just black out and forget everything you ever taught me.”

He smiled slowly when he met her eyes again, content as a cat in a sunbeam. “I’ll make sure your first time is—”

The rabble in the gym crept to an unignorable volume beyond the dressing room. Osha looked in the direction of the noise, heart in her throat. Qimir looked like he really wanted to finish speaking, but she asked, “Do you wanna go watch? You could… talk strategy with me? Or talk shit?”

She saw him stuff down whatever the feral animal in him wanted to do, punctuated by a smile. “You have a point. After all, you’ll be in the one-on-ones before you get invited to the masquerade.”

“Oh my god I think I just got the joke.”

“What joke?” he said.

“The masquerade brawl that ends at midnight? And you need to have an invitation to dance?”

“We’re not dancing in there—”

“It’s a turn of phrase, oh my god. Let’s go.”

The balcony was surprisingly sturdy—nothing rattled or shook beneath their feet as they strutted past the other masquerade fighters watching the current match.

It was difficult to understand what was going on until Qimir explained to her: the two men fighting were tasked with repeatedly throwing one another onto the mat using the exact same form every time. Qimir had her answers ready before she even asked a question.

“Decision-determined matches are rare here. They aren’t run or scored like what you’re used to.”

“Who are the judges?” she asked, peering into the crowd for any sign of an officiant’s table. “Where are the judges?”

Qimir pointed to a dark, mirrored window set in the brick wall on the opposite side. She’d never noticed it before, but now the gaze of the black, gaping maw on high seemed inescapable. “I’m sure you have questions about the organizers, but not even I have those answers.”

“The match organizers are also the fight judges?”

He shrugged as if saying, why shouldn’t they be? “This fight is an endurance test. Keep your form perfect for every throw, and hopefully, you outlast your opponent.”

“Sounds like it would go on forever.”

“You think you could perfectly throw a 200-pound guy over your shoulder the same way with the same force, forever? After also being slammed to the mat ten seconds prior?”

Thwack! One of the fighters shook their head in a daze. The one who just threw them down helped them up.

Qimir had a point. Damn it. She hated it when he had a point. “Fine. Just seems boring.”

“It’s one of the more impressive feats of strength. This is similar to my nomination match.”

“How long ago was that?”

“It’ll be… 10 years next month, on the new moon.” That’s more than a hundred fight nights. How many has he—

Thwack! Groan. Stand up. Cheer.

As the other fighter prepared to throw again, Osha nudged his shoulder with hers. “Who nominated you?”

A muscle feathered in his jaw, and though he went still and didn’t look away from the fight, she could tell he wasn’t really looking at it. “Idise.”

Back when it started, I heard people talk about how it represented this culmination of a relationship at the gym—you spend so much time training with somebody that you form a special connection.

Acidic jealousy burned in Osha’s mouth. It was ten years ago. Chill.

“I didn’t know you two knew each other that long.”

“She’s known me since before I joined.”

Where else do you sign your name next to someone like that but a—

“Dang. Long time.”

The conversation lulled a little, and Osha tried not to feel like the fighter getting slammed into the mat. She had to get a fucking grip. “Well, the point is to win the match, so how do I win? If I was in the ring, right now, how do I win?” she babbled.

He watched another few throws before shaking off his fugue to speak. He pointed out flaws in their stances—they were actually losing energy just from standing still. From that point, he talked about kinetic momentum and adrenaline-fueled motion. “If you let yourself walk around even a few steps between throws, your heart rate will be in the perfect place to remain focused and physically ready—mustering your energy from baseline each time kills your stamina.”

It wasn’t what she expected to hear. She’d expected him to say something about finding an opponent’s weakness and drilling down into it every time. To treat every round like it was the last round. But, she realized with a jolt, that was just how the Temple trained them.

Qimir’s advice, by comparison, urged her to stay in the moment and ground herself in reality, not imagine herself at the finish line. There is no finish line. There’s just the road in front of you.

Another few fights passed before Osha recognized an event from last month: two opponents and one knife dropped between them like a hockey puck. 

“Crowds love this one,” Qimir chuckled. “Shit, I love this one.” He looked at her from the corner of his eyes. “What would you do?”

“I don’t even know how to hold a knife. I couldn’t give a right answer if I wanted to.”

“I wasn’t asking you so you’d tell me the right answer. I know you don’t have any weapons training—but you’re still a fighter, Osha. You’re allowed to weigh in on things you don’t know about—more than that, I want you to. It’s one of the most effective ways we learn. By guessing.”

“You mean you want me to fuck around and find out.”

He rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

Osha hummed and leaned her arms on the railing to peer closer at the intense exchange. The fighter without the knife had both hands free to pull the other fighter into a complicated kneeling grapple.

“Well… from one perspective, getting to the knife’s a speed contest, so you’d have to know something about your opponent’s footwork relative to your own. Are you faster, or are you not?”

He hummed, encouraging her to go on. She paused as the armed fighter lost his grip, sending the knife skittering toward the fence. 

“You could just ignore the weapon entirely,” she mused. “Draw blood another way.”

“The rules state that if there’s a weapon in the cage and victory is decided by first blood, the blood must be drawn by that weapon.”

Hm. She watched the pair scramble for the knife, as if hearing Qimir’s input from on high.

“Well. Uh. Another perspective is…” the same fighter from before took control of the knife. “Knowing someone’s strengths as well as their weaknesses.”

“You intend to spy on your opponents before their matches?” he said dryly.

“No, I mean—shut up.” She grumbled and pouted. “If it was me in there against you, you would know I would be more harm to myself if I had the knife in my hands. I could defeat myself for you.”

“Believe it or not, the organizers won’t put a weapon in your hands that you’re not familiar with. Nor would they put you up against someone that surpasses your ability enough to make you seem like a novice. The fights are balanced, so it’s a challenge to win, but not impossible.”

That complicated things. “But I’m right. You can still turn someone’s perceived strength into a weakness to get them to bleed.”

“Everybody has a weakness,” he ceded. “But seeing opponents as a stack of strengths and weaknesses holding a knife doesn’t change the fact that they can still hurt you. What did I say about fear and danger?”

“Denying your fear doesn’t erase the danger. It only makes it harder to survive.”

“Good girl. Now watch—”

How could she, when he spoke to her like that so casually?

He gave her a play-by-play from his point of view. “And that’s a victory right there.”

“What? The fight’s not over.”

“Believe in the power of the armbar.”

The unarmed fighter had pulled the other into a hold, the knife just inches from his face. The grappled fighter tried to twirl the knife in his trapped hand, blade flashing in the light. But the other moved quickly, squeezing his wrist and jerking his whole body to get him to jab himself in the forearm.

The bell rang, and though it was too far for Osha to see it, the roar of the crowd signaled that first blood had been shed. She applauded, feeling like a guest at the side of an emperor, watching gladiators bleed for his imperial amusement.

“The most important thing to remember in these match-ups is that battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won. You have to choose to win before you ever step in the ring.”

“What’s that, a little bit of hard-earned violence-based wisdom?” she said teasingly.

“Walt Whitman.”

A startled, overly loud laugh escaped her, turning a few heads in their direction. Osha hid her face against his shoulder, trying to stifle her giggles but failing. She wasn’t entirely sure, but the gentle touch on her head felt like a kiss.

She certainly hoped it was.

“You don’t need to worry about what will happen before the match starts. Things can go a hundred thousand ways once the bell rings, and only some of them will go right—even fewer will go as planned.” He raised a hand to trace over her bare back, distracted by the cut of her shirt. It was similar to the one she’d worn to dance night, so his fascination felt warranted. He let his hand fall flat on the small of her back, a warm weight she could have purred at.

“You make it sound like someone with no training can enter the ring and win by a mile just by improvising.”

“Yes and no,” he shrugged. “If you recognize when the winds shift in each moment, you can make almost anything work to your advantage.” He turned to face her, his face gone a little serious. “I’m not training you to make you into a trophy machine, Osha. I’m training you to make the best decisions for any moment, but only when you choose to fight.”

It was surprisingly tender. The conviction in his posture spoke volumes to the degree he believed that. It was strange to see vulnerability in his eyes, especially after the heat in them from earlier. When she asked herself why he felt so strongly about her choice to fight, Indara’s voice rang in her head.

She only fostered him so she could take him to tournaments and competitions across the state.

Qimir was clearly about to ask what she was thinking, but a new (well, new-ish) voice interrupted him.

“There you are, buddy!”

Fuck.

Osha sighed, grimacing in a way she hoped could be misinterpreted as a smile. She turned away from the suddenly stone-faced Qimir. “Hey there, Sour Patch.”

“Watching the matches? Save some interest for the last one of the night, would ya?”

“Oh, I’ll try.”

Qimir was a block of ice behind her. His warmth, so reliable and steady, had chilled unexpectedly. The hand on her lower back curled into a fist around a handful of her shirt—there was no way he’d done that consciously. She’d seen Qimir get cold like this before when speaking to some of the other fighters in the gym, but never to this degree. It was plain to see it for what it was:

Possessiveness.

“So you’ve been to one of these before…”

Sour Patch did not, at all, take the rebuffs Osha threw back at him. The wall of silence behind her felt solid enough to—

Hm.

Just to make things interesting, she let herself lean against Qimir. The hand at her waist felt like a goddamn claw.

“No, I actually haven’t seen The Godfather. Haven’t had the inclination. Ever.”

The claw squeezed. She could imagine him whispering, attagirl.

“Oh my god, you’re absolutely missing out. Why don’t you come over and we can—”

The creature behind her scoffed. She rested a hand on the claw, tracing her fingertips over his knuckles.

“I’m pretty on the hook for literally the rest of forever, sorry,” Osha told Sour Patch with an overly kind smile.

Perhaps the smile was too much, because he said, “So Wednesday night, are you free?”

Qimir inhaled like a bull about to charge, nearly disengaging his hold on her to engage his fist into the other guy’s face. Osha moved fast. Her hand shot out, patting the oblivious man’s bicep in an objectively condescending way. “Maybe if you win tonight,” she said, hiding her fangs behind a pretty smile.

Sour Patch lit up, and the beast behind her relaxed. His hand snaked around her middle, tracing a thumb over her piercing. He was oozing satisfaction. Sour Patch has no idea what he’s getting into.

“Well, get ready for a three-part marathon, then!” To her delight, Sour Patch turned around and walked away—probably for the best.

Qimir whirled Osha around like a goddamn top. He wore the same heated look from earlier when she tried on his mask. Heat flared in her core. Her eyes went to his mouth, where he bit his lower lip in consideration—or perhaps the last vestige of self-control. What thoughts hid behind those eyes?

“Maybe if he wins tonight?” he repeated slowly, an eyebrow rising with incredulity.

“I think it’s fair,” she said, heart racing. She couldn’t remember how to slow her pulse down—couldn’t remember even with a knife to her throat. His hands on her made it hard to think, let alone breathe.

“Fair,” he chuckled. “Did I give you the impression that I was a fair person?”

“Yes.”

His eyes flashed a little. It reminded her how a predator’s eyes would glow at night. “You should rethink that.”

“I won’t.”

His jaw flexed. “Last chance.”

“No.”

“And what if I win tonight?”

“I didn’t know you wanted to watch The Godfather with me so badly.”

“You’ve no idea the things I want to do with you, Osha. Nor how badly I want them.”

They were standing so close. The shouting and cheering of the crowd below went quiet under the thundering of her heart, and even the lights went a little sparkly and out of focu—

She needed to breathe.

Her ragged inhale sounded like she’d surfaced after nearly drowning. Felt like it, too. Qimir’s face flickered in surprise but melted into a much more pleased expression. “You should go down to the cage, Osha,” he purred.

“Why?”

Because he can’t control what he’ll do next if you stay.

He didn’t have to say it for her to know it.

It wasn’t a dismissal, but his command certainly dictated she should go. Before she did, Osha surged forward to wrap her arms around him. “Good luck.”

He stiffened, and Osha held him tighter. After a few seconds, he returned the embrace and thanked her quietly.

“You know, you need to work on that,” she said once they pulled away.

He chuckled. “What?”

“Receiving hugs.”

His eyes sparkled with good humor. “Well, I might need to find a trainer if that’s the case.”

“I dunno, my schedule could be booked.”

“To the rest of forever?” he teased.

She shrugged and turned to walk away.

“If I win tonight,” he said, catching her wrist. “Maybe I can get a free trial pass?” He tilted his head to the side, ignoring the world around them.

Osha wrapped her hand around his bicep, one finger at a time, before she squeezed, digging her nails in just as he’d held her in his claws. She didn’t stop there. She leaned in so her lips brushed his ear as she whispered, “Win first. Then we can discuss the spoils.”

She didn’t stick around to see the look in his eyes, but she could feel it long after she joined the crowd.

Kana found her in the crush of bodies.

“You are gonna get squished, girl,” he laughed. He escorted her closer to the cage and assumed the duties of an immovable human wall behind her.

“Thank you!” she said cheerfully.

They chatted a little between matches. “How’s training going? Q train you on any weapons yet?”

“Nah, not yet. We’ve only sparred a few times, but not at full strength or speed. I gotta say, though… those look fun.”

The fighters in the ring clashed their broadswords together in a shower of sparks that fired up the crowd. They wore full-cage helmets, half-plate armor, and steel gauntlets. This was the last fight before the finale, and the energy was palpable, the scent of blood and sweat permeating the air.

Kana laughed, big and booming. “I’m sure you’d kick ass regardless of familiarity with the weapon, and that’s a hill I’d kill anybody on.”

He had such a way with words.

“…thank you, Kana.”

“I also guarantee you’ll be invited to the brawl just because everyone wants to see what he’ll do.”

She frowned up at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, what he’ll do when you and Idise get in front of him at the same time.”

“Idise?” she said hollowly.

—you spend so much time training with somebody that you form a special—

“Did he not tell you? Q and Idise are pretty close outside’a here.” Kana looked concerned at whatever Osha was doing with her face, but he continued. “I’ve known him longer than anyone else here, but she’s been with him through some hard shit. A few people think Q and Idise were seeing each other on and off for a few years.”

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Think that they were together.”

She was trying to keep the jealousy snarling in her chest from leaping out her mouth. Osha had the urge to run back upstairs and leave a hundred purple kiss marks marking him as her—

“No. Q’s a lonely guy, and I think he prefers it like that. Him and Idise… I can’t tell for certain because they don’t really hang out, but I’m pretty sure whatever they got going on, it’s strictly on the platonic side. Things have been different recently.” He dared to wink at her, either willfully or unintentionally oblivious to her thunderous mood. “Since you came ‘round, and even before then.”

“Like what?” 

“Well. Few months back, this perfect storm starts brewing. Q dropped the fuck off the map the same time the fuckin’ Lance guy was let back in the gym.”

“Let back in?” she squawked. One of the swordfighters staggered back into the cage, rattling the whole circumference with the impact.

Kana nodded. “He said he was robbed of his nomination match and wanted a second chance to prove himself. Everyone here saw straight through that shit. Fucker just wanted to get back at Idise for embarrassing him. We all did our best to ignore him, and nobody said shit to his face, but shit was dicey; a lotta people questioned the PTB for allowing him back on the premises, let alone in the fights.

“But they did allow it. He signs up. His match night comes. He’s not fighting Idise, of course, but he wins. Q shows up in the last round after a month of silence and wins his eighth brawl in a row. Some people say they saw him talking with Idise later on, but he disappeared right after that. Bunch’a people started rumors about it.”

“What’d they say?”

“Well, someone asked Idise where he’d been, and she got all defensive about it, wouldn’t say. My guess is she didn’t know, and had gone to ask because she was worried about him. We all were.”

He’d been pretty wound-tight for a while, and it seemed like he needed that break two-ish months ago. We were all pretty worried when he took it so abruptly.

“Now, shit gets even dicier with the PTB. Not only do they invite Lance to the brawl, they invite Idise. Nobody’s heard from Q. Isn’t answering calls or texts. I don’t even think he replied to the invite email, don’t think he even looked at it. Lance and Idise avoid each other like the plague in the gym. And no, winning did not warm any of us to him.”

Osha jumped a little at the clang from a sword hitting a solid chest plate.

“Night comes. They call everyone in for the brawl, rah rah, Lance gets called—he was Dizzykid when it happened—it goes fucking silent in here. They call Idise in, coulda blown the fuckin roof off. Everybody expected Idise to go round two with this motherfucker, just put him back in his place same as before. I’d say ninety percent of the bets were on that. And do you know what happened when Smiley walked in?”

“What?” Osha said, mouth a bit dry. She wasn’t even pretending to look at the fight anymore.

“He looked at Idise in the cage and turned to Wise, asking, the fuck is she doing in here? Wise just smiled at him, then he pointed at Lance. Smiley asks again, what’s he doing here? And Wise just smiiiiles. Like he knew what was about to go down.”

Historically, those fighters are more likely to snap when provoked.

“—and let me tell you, it was brutal. The match starts, and within two minutes, Smiley is beating Lance’s face down to the first circle of hell. At the first drag-out, his work was done.

“Heard later that Q sent him to the hospital in the same condition Idise did ten years back—practically the same injuries. Did it in less than half the time it took her.”

Story ends with this guy getting sent to the hospital—all fucked up. Busted skull, broken wrists, nearly lost his eye…

“He disappeared again after that fight. I woulda too, if I left a guy looking like that.”

Not just entering the cage. The terrible things I’ve done to leave it.

“Is that why the yellow mask looks all…”

“Disgusting? Yeah. That thing was more red than yellow that night. They wash ‘em, but I doubt that stain will come out anytime soon. I thought they should just get a new one, but my influence ends at the top of the stairs, here.”

“What happened after?”

One of the swordsmen sent the other tumbling to the mat. The crowd roared as the downed fighter rolled left and right to avoid two-handed overhead strikes.

“Well, now that Lance was handled, everyone re-focused on where the hell Q went. Short of sending out Idise to go find him, we all tried to find out. But then… he just shows up one night, pretty girl in tow. Orders her hot soup and a hot toddy.” Kana winked at her just as the bell rang for the end of the match.

They applauded politely and spoke a little more freely now that they were in between matches. “That was the first anyone had seen of him outside the fights. Believe me, you were quite the gossip item. Especially when he started coming back to the gym, training again. Still wasn’t really talking to anybody, though.

“And then you showed up at the fights, and his whole deal changed when he started bringing you around. Follows you around like a puppy. Never seen him like that before.”

Osha could have sworn it was the other way around.

Before she could ask a single thing, a hush fell. The reverent silence that crashed over the crowd was the same as the one she felt a month ago. The masquerade is about to begin.

CHAPTER 15

[sparkanonymous]

THE EPISODES ARE OUT YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!!!

⚠️ Total Drama Reboot Season 2 Spoilers ⚠️

Alright, so I've been awake for 15 hours now (before starting notes), so I'm gonna get rambly. I know I usually do, but it's definitely gonna get bad.

Episode 9

Priya definitely opened the door twice on Wayne and Raj on purpose. She was just that pissed off.

Okay, but Priya/Damien/Raj/Wayne friendship for the win. I want more of these guys.

Aw, Damien feels bad. (Zeemien-coded)

MK, you cheated in the game, and almost everyone made it clear that they didn't like that, especially since half the people who were mad at you were on the opposite team as you. You knew you were in deep shit with Chris. Are you really surprised? (Plus, like... Priya is generally more liked by most of the cast.)

MK, you know that they know your ways of playing the game. Do you really think sarcasm will work?

Get their asses, Damien.

Raj, why do you know what the peach emoji means?

Damien trying to be the supportive friend Priya needs. (Damiya-coded)

Holy fuck, we finally get to see Caleb. It's been like 5 minutes of straight no-Caleb.

Protective Wayne. He has no idea what's going on, but he's the man you want by your side when things go awry.

Chref moment. Even if he's not into it, Chris will watch any video Chef wants to show him.

Kinda lame challenge.

PRIYA/WAYNE FRIENDSHIP.

Goddamn, Caleb really doesn't want to get in between Team MKulia.

Wayne, Raj just got crushed by a fridge. Help him out. Please, he'll die.

Julia really trying to murder Caleb here.

THE FUCKING CAR.

Damien/Sheep friendship.

MK is so getting voted off.

Wayne did all of that in less than 5 minutes?

THE FUCKING YACHT.

Damn, Priya can push a boulder.

I don't think Damien can support Priya anymore.

Wayne, really?

Julia is seriously good with axes, huh?

NOT THE SHEEP!!

Caleb, this is most certainly not the time.

Julia would become a murderer if she didn't win.

Season 1 mention.

LMAO

Because he's a dumbass, Chris.

Poor Wayne.

Chef, that's a dumb fucking explanation.

How are bumper stickers private, Chef?

Damien doing everything in his power not to hurt the sheep.

I mean, it was pretty unnecessary for Caleb to take his shirt off, I agree. Like, come on, just one episode? Please?

Poor Chef.

Chris, you're such an asshole.

No matter how strong you are, you can not punch a yacht apart like that.

Poor Damien. Poor Wayne.

So... is Raj eliminated? Because of health reasons?

Chris really just wanted MK out. Wow.

Where the hell did that squirrel come from?

Priya, he had to. Are you serious? I know your heart was broken, but come on. Stop trying to guilt him.

MK, YOU CAN'T SAY SHIT LIKE THAT TO WAYNE OF ALL PEOPLE.

Poor Raj...

Did Chris forget to name Caleb?

MKulia. They love to hate each other.

Julia being worried about MK being mad at her.

MKULIA HUG. THAT'S ALL I NEEDED. FUCK EVERYONE WHO SAYS THEY'RE JUST FRIENDS (I'm lying, but I do see them as canon.)

Episode 10

Sneaky Damien. I'm surprised he still has the idol, tbh

RAJ PAJAMAS!

Finally, some more of Wayne being a good friend.

Caleb, be for real.

I heard that piano cue.

Caleb, you knew that MK and Julia were not trustworthy just last episode. You're either really desperate or really fucking stupid or really forgetful.

Priya, come on.

She's not being helpful, Caleb. Ugh, this is gonna be a slog to get through, isn't it.

So... is Julia just OP this season?

I knew Raj and Wayne didn't keep their own grades up. So they do cheat, they just don't think it counts as cheating.

Damien, don't get cocky.

Julia, how the hell would he cheat off of you? You're behind him. He's not behind you. Although, I guess they're broadcasting the answers on a massive screen...

"You'd be married by now-" Y'all are 16, maybe 17. I really hope they won't.

Raj, Wayne, stop being stupid. Please.

Poor Priya...

Caleb, help her anyway.

Damien, just stop mentioning it.

Poor Damien...

I like how Raj and Wayne are still laying there even after it was clear they guessed.

YES MORE DAMIEN WITH ATTITUDE.

They really couldn't come up with an MK punishment. Or an Emma one.

I like how Damien just calls everyone a bad person.

Chef calling the raccoons "trash pandas."

Chef letting his frustrations help the campers.

Poor Damien...

Julia, why would you tell Chris you have a phone on you?

"Hey, it's Bowie!" Raj, you're adorable.

Everyone knows Raj and Wayne are dumbasses.

Chef knows about the Caleb and Priya situationship.

Julia should be automatically get eliminated for that.

JULIA IS SO OUT IF SHE LOSES.

Caleb x Priya... pretty cute this episode.

Poor Wayne and Raj...

Caleb, don't let your tablet go.

Goddamnit...

No, you do not deserve to win, Julia.

Oh, come on, Priya... Ugh, not again.

Goddamnit, Julia found the idol.

DAMIEN TRYING TO RUN AWAY LMAO

Episode 11

Damien/Wayne/Raj friendship.

Raj and Wayne loving dogs.

Yo, Ridonculous Race character. Didn't watch that season, but I'm pretty sure that was where she was introduced.

Julia getting rid of a dog for likes... she would totally get canceled for that.

I think Raj and Wayne should have still liked the dogs even after being introduced. Like... come on. 1, they're stupid, and 2, they liked dogs. You can't tell me they wouldn't win the dogs' affections at some point, because they're also stubborn.

See, Raj and Wayne; fucking stupid.

Julia would've killed that dog for crushing her phone.

Why did Priya think that dogs were only after her?

Caleb don't misjudge the dog. You should know this by now; it's Total Drama.

Did you seriously think that would work, Julia?

Raj and Wayne being forced to split up...

"This is horrifyin'-" "This is my Christmas!" LMAO

Raj, you dumbass. Don't go streaking.

That worked?!

Holy fuck, Wayne really thought Raj died. Poor guy, but he's also dumb.

Naked and Afraid mention. I got that reference.

Even Wayne's stupidity surpasses Raj's sometimes...

Raj being dragged by the underwear.

Chris, this was never a family show. What do you mean?

Raj and Wayne were so pissed for a minute.

How did Julia find Priya?

Come on, Priya is fucking OP. She would be able to win just fine.

Take a wild guess, Priya.

Caleb, you're still playing Priya, dumbass.

Ugh, can we have one episode that isn't a close call?

NO RAJ OR WAYNE IS GOING HOME NOOOOO

NOT RAJ!! GODDAMNIT

Wayne's sad little arm raise at Raj's elimination.

"Bowie, put on your dancing shoes, 'cause we're goin' out!" Rajbow date mention! (No, I do not know if this is their first date or if it was confirmed somewhere else.)

Damn, they really animated that Raj and Wayne hug. Probably the most emotional elimination, aside from MK's.

"- Why are you still here?" "I dunno!" LMAO

Also, I really hope this Caleb x Priya thing is either resolved now or next episode, because it is a pain...

Episode 12

Okay, so are they like... okay now? I thought they were still rocky?

Caleb being more sensitive to death than Priya.

Priya knowing that Julia was watching them... somewhere.

Priya would definitely be the possessive one in this relationship.

Caleb, tell Priya the truth. Holy fucking shit.

Caleb, come on. You're more cruel than this.

Poor Wayne... also, where'd he get those sticks.

The fucking sad Wayne edit. This is gold LMAO

Where'd he get air pods?

Julia, how did you steal Raj's jersey? If this were another show, that would be really fucking weird. Like, come on. If Raj had ended up being bisexual instead of gay, this would've caused a ton of relationship drama. Y’know, if there was a season 3...

Julia, are you talking about MK when saying you and Wayne both lost your "best buds"?

"So you... wanna get MARRIED??!!" Juliayne nation, how we feeling? (Not my cup of tea, but this is pretty fucking funny. I hope I see more Juliayne art circling this moment.)

"I guess you're better than a bucket in some ways." LMAO

Something about Total Drama that I've noticed (and everyone else has, too) is that when the writers are pairing up an unlikely duo, when one of the participating members doesn't like the other member, they make up some random shit that solidifies their dislike for them. The example today is Julia only pairing up with Wayne for convenience, previously showing her dislike of him, and Wayne talking about some game that he and Raj have never played before on screen, "Spit 'N Catch".

Wayne asking the important, but unwanted, questions.

"Do you really want the answer?" "Well, now, I don't!" Wayne, you should know better than that by now.

Fear Factor episode.

Priya, you were raised on this show. You should see EVERYTHING coming. See, she's too broken of a character to make work well on the show. The writers either make her know everything (like she should)- which leads to her avoiding most of the competition because she's supposed to be that good- or they make her dumb as rocks.

There's a difference between being romantically involved with someone and dating. One can mean literally anything (that's what fanfictions are for) and the other is the official title.

Julia's threatening red screen thing seemed kind of dark. It looks like they put a layer above Julia and the screen, so it kind of doesn't stick out as much as it should have.

Stop playing Priya, man.

Julia, you're making him be a bad boyfriend right now.

Priya being scared of thunder and lightning.

Wow. They couldn't have gotten an intern to pretend to be Raj.

Wayne getting over his fear really quickly. Then the bear returning the hug. Wayne/Bear friendship.

"Fine! We'll do salmon. Again!" This friendship is giving me Izzy vibes.

Julia, you still haven't proven you can be trusted in any capacity. I think you should let the "Caleb avoiding proving himself" thing slide since we both know you wouldn't try proving yourself for anybody.

"Caleb, ya basic!" LMAO

"Woah. Was that Caleb or Priya?" "You should go check."

The Snow Owl mascot lmfao

The poor intern in the costume.

Oh, the clown snake tongue... that's disgusting...

Wayne x Intern Lady. Or friendship. I don't care. They're cute.

"Wayne doesn't get scared. He just grows as a person."

"I'm a big truth guy-" That is not what your tune sounded like during the first half of this season. Writers, stop switching it up. Please, I beg.

Poor Wayne.

"Priya, you got hit with a lot of lightning. So, can you, like, see the future?" With how this show works, I wouldn't be surprised lol

"- and you gave Priya the worst wedgie we've seen in... at least a week." That's so true.

Wait, how is the finale gonna work? I thought there would be 13 episodes, but we're on episode 12 and have 4- soon to be 3- campers left. Is this how it worked last season? I haven't watched the second half of that season in a while.

They do not believe in Wayne... and honestly, neither did I or half of this fandom. We all just prayed.

Well, bye, Priya.

Did you seriously not know. Wayne tells people practically everything, Caleb- while he did lie a lot during the season- would have told you, and you knew you didn't have it. It was obviously the manipulator of the season who had the idol, Priya. You're supposed to be the expert.

"Avenge me!" Well... lesson learned; don't mess with the expert of a really messed up show.

Episode 13

"I would also like to be part of this fight-" lmao Wayne is everything. I wish we could get more Wayne and Julia sibling moments. Those were always pretty funny.

So we finally get some insight on what they want to use the money for. Very helpful... but Julia's only comes into play after this season.

MK and Julia have already been talking about making a podcast? They really are just canon, y'all.

Wayne forgetting about the money.

"Phew! I was worried for a second there." "Were you?" Yeah, I don't think Wayne really knows what worry feels like at this point.

I'm interested. Specifically, who did Scary Girl pick? Or is she just gonna follow Damien?

Okay, I'm a little salty. Damien should've grouped with Wayne. I know most of them are on Caleb's team because he's the strongest and smartest of the three, but what about Waymien friendship?

I was gonna ask why Emma was there, but she kinda had the hots for him the first season and might still now. Millie just followed Priya.

I'm gonna nitpick, but they clearly just stretched out the walls of the outhouse so they'd all fit. Reasonably, there should've been some bickering about how crampednit was. Plus, Millie would've probably almost completely blocked Priya from the shot. Emma looks way too big compared to the other camper, purely because of her head size.

Poor Caleb.

All the characters on Wayne's team cheering for him. I'm not sure why Chase is there, seeing as they barely talked to each other, but it's sweet. Plus, look how cute Wayne is! He's just sitting so politely. (I'm so redrawing this. Please ignore the terrible quality.)

Wayne would've totally still would've been like "you got it coach!" After the camera turned back to the mountain he actually has to climb. That's just the kinda guy he is.

MK's touch to Julia's thigh. (I have massive MKulia brainrot.)

MKulia banter. I'm glad that Julia has no other supporters.

Wayne joining Zee for a "pizza party." Best buds, man. They ALSO share a braincell.

I'm glad Scary Girl is back in her original outfit. It looks better than the one she had at the beginning of the season. I'm glad that they cleared up where she went, too. I think the writers wanted a more even split of the team supporters, and this was their excuse to have Scary Girl wreak havoc.

Priya, stop pushing Caleb.

"It's amazing he made it this far... and I'm not even talking about the show." LMFAO

Raj's favorite flavor of ice cream is strawberry?

At least Bowie knows their whole thing at this point.

"Isn't he great?" I can't handle Rajbow... my heart... I love them...

Julia would've so fallen.

MK getting pummeled with tee shirts and Chris just enjoying it.

Chris, that's your husband. Help him back up.

I forgot Total Drama's obsession with giving girls bad haircuts. Julia deserved that mullet, though.

MK, you almost made her feel better. Also, come on, did you see the way Julia looked at her for that split second?

Holy fuck, Julia has strength.

Kinda surprised Bowie didn't point out the haircut.

Zee is awesome. I missed him.

They all feel so bad about taking out Wayne. I will point out, however, that Damien was the first to hesitate. Look, I got my ship biases, even when they're friendship biases.

Raj, you dumbass.

RAJ, THAT IS YOUR BOYFRIEND APOLOGIZE

"- just remember there are different kinds of smart! ... and I'm Raj is one of them." Whoever is writing this dialogue deserves a cookie.

Priya, come on, celebrate the small victories. It helps.

Very true, Julia.

I like how Caleb still helped Julia. "Sorry I'm a good person!"

Wayne/Raj/Bowie friendship for the win. Their little quips. It's funny.

Was... was Chef gazing at Chris? What was he looking at? How bad is my shipping brainrot?

CHREF MOMENT. WHAT IS GOING ON? Headcanon, Chef has a crush on Chris. Chris doesn't know.

Caleb, you're not that stupid, come on.

"Desperate times call for bad ideas." - Wayne 2023-2024

When Zee knows better, you know someone's getting hurt.

WAYNE WON??!!

Why is Wayne's confessional with the team so dark?

I'm so proud of Wayne.

Chef shoving a bag of marshmallows into Ripper's face.

Bowie just accepting the dumbassery.

Next season? There'll be a third with these guys? Please!

It was odd that the rest of the episodes came out on a Saturday instead of a Monday. Oh, well! This was fun. I hope that, if there is another season, it's with these guys, and that a lot of the characters people wanted worked on will get the attention they deserve (Scary Girl, Emma, and kinda Millie). I wonder if they'll keep Julia's mullet, or if she'll give herself a pixie cut or something? I think she'd look cute with short hair, but she would definitely not keep it a mullet. And, hey, maybe it'll give even more fuel for MKulia. Who knows?

See you guys next time! Whenever that happens to be!

[jawz-idk]

Sonic hot take:

Sonic generation's Planet Wisp act 2 isn't just good, it's great.

Now I'm only defending act 2 (Modern Sonic's) because I am never touching act 1 ever it was absolutly horrible and by far the lowest point in the game for me, even worst than the less than climactic final boss but act 2? What a transformation man.

See this as a mini review of the level and why I personaly like it, if you hate it then less power to ya I suppose this is my opinion and not yours

First of all the opening to this level where you run through the open is one of the most fun to get right in the game, yes it did take me an hour or so to fully master it and remember everything but once you know how it flows... Man you feel like a demi god even if boosting isn't practical the platforming more than makes up for it, a bit too short if you ask me but hey even this opening section is longer than most Sonic forces levels (that game's awful my god)

After that there's the least fun part of the level where's it takes waaaaay too much from Sonic Colors and decides to be all about slow platforming, I can find enjoyment out of this part but I 100% understand people not liking it it's not for everyone.

Still this might be the shortest part of the level unless you really suck. (it took me 5 whole minutes to go through this part when first playing... Pain)

Then the part that still gives me issues even after all the training I'v been doing is the rocket/minecart parts, but even with it being the hardest to master... It might just be my favorite.

Now don't get me wrong one wrong move and it's ggs for you do half of this section AGAIN! The minecart aren't bad but you might wanna do a stomp attack to get on them faster after taking out the enemy on it down, BUT DON'T it will just send you back down cuz you'll attack too early, just let the flow carry you.

For the rocket Wisp... It's really nothing, especially compared to the slow drag that was Act 1's Spike Wisp. (it was better in Colors imo)

(this image is from a side mission but it's the only one where you can see the rocket Wisp I found on Google lmaoo)

It's actually really fun and a nice change if pace to just go up with that Wisp and even if the last part of the level where you gotta Speedrun not to die, find the Wisp in time, use it at the right place is a bit stressful when playing for the first time it really becomes fun to play as soon as the 2nd try

Now for some non gameplay/level design reasons I like the level:

It, looks, fantastic, the whole game does don't get me wrong but this level might be the best looking level along side Rooftop Run act 1/2 and Crisis City act 2

The opening with the Wisps cheering you on is a really great recreation of the og opening of the level

The facility looks outstandingly great as well, a step down from the visual marvel that is the actual planet but still, incredible

The music too is... As expected from Sonic Generations, is a great remix of Planet Wisp Act 1 from colors, I wouldn't say it beats the original because the piano is just... Beautiful in that original piece but it's still an outstanding remix

All and all, you don't have to agree with anything I said... You might not even know what I'm saying but I apreciate it if you gave all this useless rant a read, for now just have a great rest of your night, day, space and time distorsion.

And stay safe.

[randomrings]

My thoughts on Death Must Die so far

I beat a level today. Game is good. Excited to see where it goes development-wise.

Thoughts below:

Stuff I liked:

I was originally going to criticize how often dialogue pops up but given how short the runs are, I think it's the right amount, especially because god dialogue isn't guaranteed to pop up for each blessing.

The incentive for going back to beaten levels works well.

If only aesthetically, I like the art style and think (for the most part) it is easy to tell where everything important is during combat.

The runs seem to be designed to be shorter than I expected going in. Some runs only last 4 minutes but I feel like I gained something substantial, if only knowledge, every run.

There are some interesting blessings.

Mort is my favorite!

The variety in character playstyles in such an innately simplistic gameplay premise is impressive. Although I definitely prefer Merris and Skadi over the other three (current) characters, I think the other characters are still fun to play as.

I like the dialogue so far.

Adding little details to the lore the more you interact with the gods is exciting.

My only major criticisms:

I get stuck on landmarks sometimes. Skill issue, I know. But when waves of enemies cover the screen and everything has the same outline-less pixel artstyle, a lot of environmental things muddle together. For certain things (like trees) this is by design but you don't get stuck on trees. You get stuck on the gremlin's house or various shrines. This wouldn't bother me as much if the game was designed around more or faster dashes (like Hades) but it's not. Again, to a degree, I guess I can go fuck myself but this seems like maybe a little bit of an artistic oversight more than an intended obstacle.

Once you find a character you like and get a ton of cool armor for them, the only reasons to play as the other characters are to try them out or squeeze replayability out of the game. This isn't as big of an issue as the first problem I mentioned, just something I noticed. I think a passive upgrade system kind of like the mirror from Hades or (god help me, I just can't think of a better example right now) the rune system from League might help with this. Not as a replacement for how stats are currently set up. Just something that might make it easier for trying other characters. Additional note on this: you get loot for other characters on your run. I think this was their counteraction to the problem. I feel like it's enough but could be better is all.

I would change how the shop menu works so it's easier to swap characters. It's not awful now but I feel like swapping characters is a more common thing players are going to want to do versus going to the buyback menu.

Unless they're planning on adding *way* more to the hub world, the hub world is too spread out.

I hate to nitpick the story but I don't think "it's vague and we don't know what all is happening yet" is a great start to the story. Enough information unfolds to where the lore becomes more interesting and this is very effective. However, I think a more gripping motivation for the player to attach to the characters overall would have made the game more interesting. This isn't to say the story is bad or poorly executed. There is a lot to like about it and it's easier to feel underwhelmed by a story purposefully unfinished. Just, for me personally, the motivation lies more in the curiosity in the gameplay at this point than the vast majority of what has been presented storywise.

[gretel-moonlit]

Ok so as expected, I did not finish drawing anything, so in honor of Celeste's birthday, here's me rambling about her character for far too many words. I’m not saying anything I say is canon at all, it's literally just my cringe rambling thoughts about her character 

  i will finish the drawing though i swear to you all

This isn't even correct, I just wanted to talk about some of the random moments in her free time events and stuff that imply that she’s not the person she says she is beyond just her having a different name and not actually being French, and I've thought way too much about it and it think it's interesting, so here’s some small details I’ve over analyzed about her character even though it definitely wasn’t meant to be that deep.  I may be cringe for this but at least I am free(?)

First of all, if you look at her interactions with other characters in the talent development plan events (TDP events), danganronpa s events (DRS events), and even her drthh free time events, it becomes very apparent that without the unusual situation of a killing game to distract you, she’s incredibly socially awkward. Like I nearly got secondhand embarrassment from some of her DRS events they are an experience. It’s really interesting because when I first played the V3 TDP events, and especially the DRS ones, by the second event I was just like “has she always been this awkward?” and no, she just is. I think the general chaos of the DR1 killing game made it less apparent, but her dialogue is written in a really awkward way, and she just kind of enters conversations to say and few lines that sound really rehearsed and sometimes are only kind of related and then she just vanishes from the conversation. It could be a translation thing, but given that her lines are also written that way in other translations, it seems intentional? Another interesting thing is how quickly her persona starts to break down when she’s unprepared for a conversation or one-on-one. Like in most of her DR1 free time events she’s telling him very rehearsed and polished stories (which are literally from real-life gambling manga, by the way) or having conversations that she initiates and therefore knows the topic of, but if you look at I think it’s her second free time event? The one where she really awkwardly talks to Makoto in the kitchen and within like 10 minutes ends up confessing that she misses the gyoza from her hometown and then immediately backtracks and says she thinks it awful while still admitting to liking it. I feel like that event in particular says a lot about her character, since I feel like the fact that she slipped up and broke character that easily or over something like wanting gyoza so soon into her events feels like something that should definitely point to her not exactly being the person she says she is. She also says it’s the one thing she’d miss from the outside world like it’s just kind of an afterthought like she didn’t want it enough to break character talking to Makoto because of it? That free time event is interesting because you definitely see a lot more of her real personality than most of her other free time events but I feel like people forget about it when it comes to how much of her personality is the persona she puts up.

And especially in the DRS events, half of them are people saying she’s weird and they don’t like her, or her getting made fun of by literal children, or that one event where Miu literally tells Mukuro to “Forget hanging out with that worthless loser and hang with a real hottie!” like Celeste isn’t literally standing right next to them and then Mukuro just responds by saying “I mean, like, I wasn't ever hanging out with Celeste, to begin with” and Celeste literally just stands there the whole time, that one was definitely something. Basically, my point is, there are actually a lot of instances of her being socially awkward in the games, intentional or not.

There’s also the fact that she would have had to have started gambling at a pretty young age, probably around 13-14, which is something that is not only incredibly dangerous but also literally illegal in Japan (even if it’s not illegal in the danganronpa universe, it would still be really dangerous for a kid). For someone that young to end up gambling in the first place, even if she had a talent for it, isn’t just something that casually happens, that’s something you only resort to if you’re really desperate, which I feel like should say something. Also, it seems to be implied* that her family was very poor, given that she was born in and presumably grew up in a big city and her liking gyoza because she had it as a kid, which isn’t known for being expensive or high class. (*Heavy on the implied, it seems to be the general consensus and it’s also what I assumed when I played the game, but I’m not sure if they were trying to imply that, so don’t take this as me claiming that is canon) Another interesting thing is a panel from one of the official mangas which seems like it implies that she was bullied in school, which would give her specific issue with being called a loser a lot more context since that's definitely something kids would call another kid rather than something that would have come from an adult. (I know it could possibly mean loser in the “loser of a game” context, but in the trial, it sounds like it’s being used in the insult context). Also, the fact that she is the only member of the 78th class who doesn’t have anything listed as the school she attended before Hope’s Peak might mean she never went to high school until she went to Hope’s Peak.

 Other than that stuff, there’s not really anything else to go off of other than her kind of acting like someone who was bullied in the past and is trying desperately not to get bullied again, but this is already multiple pages and that’s getting too far into conspiracy theory territory/stop trying to justify your headcanons territory, so I’m not going to get into it, I could potentially if people want it, but it can be a separate thing. 

Again, I’m not claiming any of this is canon or you have to have the same opinions, it is just my cringe ramblings so please don’t think I’m trying to tell anyone what’s right, I literally have no authority on this topic

[shipaholic]

Episode 3: “I Know Where I’m Going” / “The Resurrectionists”

I’ve slept for about two hours, so it’s episode 3 liveblog time! Spoilers under the cut.

- Goob gets his own hand-stencilled mug and hot chocolate powder. What a life.

- The mysterious Mrs Sandwich...! I know nothing about her whatsoever, and I still don’t.

---

- When Muriel sits down with the box visible over their shoulder, it feels less like they might see it and more like it’s watching them. I think the box itself is a good deal more important than any characters seem to be aware of.

- And now Aziraphale and Crowley have left Muriel alone with the box. HMM.

- “I don’t know how you lot have managed to stay in charge all this time.” “I’m not sure we have, have we?”

- “That’s how you lot measure miracles? How many times you could have brought someone back from the dead?”

- (Re. Nina and Maggie) “One fabulous kiss and we’re good” HMMMM. Something tells me Crowley is going to attempt one fabulous kiss himself and things afterwards will decidedly not be good.

- What was Muriel going to say about humans falling in love? They started to say, “Oh yes, especially -” gesturing back into the bookshop, and then Crowley finished the sentence for them. Especially what, Muriel? What opinions can you have already formed? Did you read all of Pride & Prejudice in the last three minutes?

- Crowley is so whipped it is actually embarrassing for him. Anyone less nice than Aziraphale would tease him about this until he disintegrated.

---

- Number of people meddling in Nina’s love life in first three episodes: Aziraphale + Crowley + Maggie  + Mrs Sandwich + Muriel = 5. She is the world’s foremost meddled-with woman.

- AZIRAPHALE DRIVES WORSE THAN CROWLEY THIS IS NOT A DRILL

---

- I realise that Aziraphale is very English (as am I), but it was still jarring to hear him pronounce it “A - Zed - Fell”. I have to admit A Zee Fell flows much better.

- Did. Did Aziraphale just shoot a dirty look at Crowley because he described Gabriel as beautiful. Guys. You cannot both be jealous of the same terrible man. No-one has ever been less of a romantic threat to your relationship.

- So far, in all the scenes set in the past, Crowley has been having a whale of a time, while Aziraphale slinks along miserably under the weight of one moral crisis after another. Meanwhile, in the present, Aziraphale is darting around absolutely having the time of his life while Crowley sulks and fumes in the background.

---

- Aziraphale gets to pick the tunes, and he immediately goes for Danse Macabre. Neither of them are beating the goth allegations.

- Ooh, Crowley taking over the radio and twisting it just like Hell used to do to him.

- The yellow Bentley: perfect no notes.

---

- Beelzebub seems surprised that Hell has no news about Gabriel. Admittedly that’s a dent in the theory that they want Aziraphale and Crowley to successfully hide him.

- Aw. Beez is having an emotional crisis. And confiding in a random demon about it. And not punishing him. You’re in charge, Bzzbzz. If you want people to have more job satisfaction in Hell, the change starts with you.

---

- My Best Games Of Chess. That is definitely a book that Gabriel can get nothing out of besides demonstrations about gravity.

- Crowley carefully carrying armfuls of books around the shop, only to toss them over his shoulder when he loses focus. He’s as much of a menace as Jim.

- Is this the most dressed-down we’ve ever seen Crowley? It’s a good look, tbh. Very slinky.

- Are those. Elbow slits. To show off his elbows. ?

- Crowley. My dear one. Please stop saying “Vavoom”. Even Jim is mocking you now.

---

- This is a contender for being the worst thing Aziraphale’s ever done. Just. Piously, obliviously cruel. Didn’t undo any of the ‘wickedness’ Elspeth committed that night, just ensured she wouldn’t get paid for it. I expected her to splash him with a good dollop of pickled herring-corpse soup.

- Ohhh we’re acknowledging that only Crowley is capable of stopping time. I’m prepared to wait patiently for an explanation of why he and only he has that power.

- Aziraphale won me back by tearfully rocking the jar with the tumour in. He just loves so much, and he lives surrounded by mayflies.

---

- OK this is a lot of clues all at once!! The publican mistook Gabriel for a mason (why a mason specifically??), and assumed so was the person he was with. And of the two of them, Gabriel was the most memorable. Who’s that going to be then? Not Beelzebub, surely? The Metatron, perhaps??

- When I paused the video, the notes on Amazon say re. the jukebox, ‘This is a Multi-Horn High-Fidelity Record player. Another definition of fidelity is “degree of exactness with which something is copied or reproduced”.’ So, Nice And Accurate, then?

---

- The laudanum is sold by “C.M.O.T. Dibbler”. Haha, nice.

---

- Crowley what in the world is this Alice in Wonderland shit.

- David Tennant is doing his utmost, but I cannot handle the cringiness of laudanum-drunk Crowley, I’m sorry. This is like “ETERNITAAAAAAAAY” on crack.

---

- Oh noooo oh myyy they’re walking along and Aziraphale has his arm around Crowley’s waist hellllp this is cute as all get out you guys stoppp I mean it

- Oop there he goes.

- “And then I never saw Crowley again (for many many years)” ERM. Oh God. That’s a bring-down. How. How long did Hell torture Crowley for this. ...Is this minisode set before the Victorian holy water scene in S1. Is it. ???

---

- I LOVE Aziraphale sweetly and with great prepossession handling himself like a boss around skinheads. Yeah he has nothing to fear from Mr NO RECEPTS. I wish good things for the grindr guy, though.

- All he’s doing is calling Crowley? No selfie with the Gabriel statue?

- Considering it was the whole point of this Edinburgh excursion, Aziraphale has been MISERABLE at bringing back clues. He didn’t ask anything useful about the jukebox or about the statue. This was basically just a nice holiday for the Bentley.

- He is the MOST cute though. His little face. <333

---

- Nina. How can you resist Maggie’s beautiful blue eyes.

- “Did they vavoom?” No Goob. They vavoomn’t.

- EEP, the one-two punch of Gabriel doing a creepy possession speech and Shax banging on the window got me. Whose voice was that underlying Gabriel’s? It didn’t sound like God - it was American and female, but different to anyone we’ve heard so far, I think. Tempests? A Leviathan reference, maybe...? We haven’t seen any weird weather so far except caused by Crowley. And God and Satan in the Job episode.

- The shot where Gabriel’s eyes go back to normal *chef’s kiss*

- The thing about Shax, is that even though she is an antagonist, she is completely honest and straight-up about everything she’s doing. There is no manipulation here. She is not just honest about her actions, but her limitations, too. She freely acknowledges she can’t enter the bookshop. (Or fix the boiler!) I still find it quite endearing.

- Also. Is Shax a vampire???

- Another puzzle piece about Beelzebub... after being told by another demon earlier in the episode that there was no new intel about Gabriel, Shax turns up with the apparent news that Beelzebub knows Gabriel is in the bookshop. Either Shax is bluffing (which she doesn’t seem capable of doing), or... Beelzebub is lying to other demons but letting Shax into their confidence. Not all the way in, I imagine, but more than Demon Bob or whatever he was called.

- Oh god. Crowley being so protective of Aziraphale, and at the same time so fatalistic. “It’s always too late.” That’s the third time he says “too late” this episode, and it’s clearly a reference to the time it always is in Hell. I guess it makes no difference having the ability to stop time, if it’s already too late.

---

- Bagpipes theme song is another winner.

---

General thoughts... I wasn’t really feeling this minisode, to be totally honest. I found it a bit cartoony. I think I prefer when Crowley and/or Aziraphale drive the action rather than tagging along behind someone. I greatly enjoyed the bits set in the present day, though.

[fff777]

part 2 reaction to nct dream's behind the scenes for smoothie performances

SCREM. jisung was explaining that the lighting was bad but he was filming there for a reason and he panned to a napping dolphinkitty <3 <3 <3 and also the way he starts whispering :3

jisungcam. please enjoy.

aw, jisung is bored :P

is there a reason for this sir

i was so surprised when i saw them dance to yeah because that song is...so old lmao. i distinctly remember when it became popular and i started hearing it everywhere. i had to look it up to see if the song was older than jisung but it was not XD anyway i'm loving all of these marksung dance challenges!!!!!!!! like i said, marksung have been getting my attention lately and i love seeing them do more stuff together :3

being cute

he's just really feeling the song ok

mark being like "yeah this is the one" and then immediately afterwards being like "should we try again"

he loves the details ^^;;

jisung was saying how they wished they were outdoors. i think it would have been a nicer atmosphere and their shoes would probably be less squeaky lol. i'm also noticing that they're probably performing facing the window to get good lighting.

and then they went another time

they keep playing this game lmao. where they're like well we could go another time...if you want

lol they ended up going with that last one

LMAO who corrected him

take 2. i still can't tell what he's doing though lol. he said his piece and just took a deep breath and jeno is sooooo confused.

take 3 ^^;;

mark: no, i'm going to stand mark: i'm going to be jisung today

and then mark goes on for a few minutes on how strange jisung is for not sitting down when there is clearly a free chair ^^;;

i can still hear yeah by usher in the background

CUTE

they were saying how jisung had to clip his hair down because it wasn't staying down and jisung was saying how it was like jeno's hair in we young. these guys have so many memories together uwu

he DOES what a prep

renjun wanted to be horizontal again and jeno was like pls don't but renjun did it anyway in his cramped space hehe

now it's time for haechan to roast jisung

haechan: jisung only talks to us when the camera is on jisung: ... jisung: i guess you should keep the camera on all the time then

haechan: why aren't you wearing your friendship ring? jisung: ... jisung: i'll buy it haechan: when are you going to buy it? no mercy

renjun: tell me your size and i'll buy it for you jisung: i don't know my size haechan: large haechan: 2XL for those monster hands ^^;;

jisung thinks mark looks handsome today <3

to mark, jisung is a baby uwu

haechan's coat looks a bit video game-esque, especially with the embossed pattern

trying to court another man again

chenle playing with his buttons

lol renjun walked out to be the main character on his own and the others just let him

[eurofox]

Yakuza 3 review

I heard that this is one of the least popular games in the series. As it’s one of the oldest games I can see why. It’s also fairly short while also poorly paced. I still enjoyed it but less so than that other games. I have heard it was rushed though

SPOILERS:

The good shit:

It’s nice to see Kiryu happy and living his dream

Another great soundtrack, some gems here (clay doll on the cradle is my face)

I actually don’t mind Kaoru’s departure. Kind of refreshing to see a female character choose a career over romance (she was shown to be ambitious) and her fling with Kiryu really seemed like a ‘heat of the moment’ thing than a real relationship. I hear it’s because her VA was a nightmare though. But I wasn’t too bothered with this

Kiryu’s rad shirt

Okinawa is a nice change of pace and easy to get around (it took my 3 games to know my way round Kamurocho lmao)

Rikiya and co grew on me.

Pretty brutal combat, smashing people’s teeth out and shit

Has the best gun based boss in the series with Andre Richardson. Actually LIDL own brand Wesker one of the best Big Bads in the whole series.

The Kanda love hotel fight is comedy gold

Kanda gets a well deserved death

All the E N G L I S H

Hospital battle is great. One of my fave long battles in the series

Daigo’s hurt screaming MINE

Kiry getting Majima to babysit Daigo

Majima has a few shining moments here, especially the lorry rescue

Kiryu’s blog is such a funny idea.

Bullfight was silly, but enjoyable

Daigo’s post coma crackshot is unintentially hilarious

Mine’s boss fight is ok

The Bad shit:

Holy fuck people were not exaggerating with the BLOCKUZA jokes. Having some low level mooks block my every move did not make me feel like the dragon of Dojima. 

That Lau Ka long fight where I just kept getting stunlocked while he made those wacky noises

Looks dated and feel dated. They did what they could I guess but I think this game could do with the Kiwami treatment.

At this point, 4 games in, I’m starting to see re-used tropes.

JESUS CHRIST TAKE AWAY THE FUCKING GUNS FROM DEFEATED FOES

The disrespect they showed Kashiwagi

Rikiya’s death is pointless and was avoidable.

Daigo’s model looks so bad, with his shiny and miss-shapen head, I thought at first he was the white guy who I’d heard was in this game

Evil (or good I guess?) Kazama twin, really?

No hamazaki fight

Shortest game and it starts going too fast once you meet Joji

That duck eating cutscene, minging.

Those damn kids. I get they wanted to build up the relationship with them but it really should have been sub story’s. It just got tedious after 5 hours. Especially as Kiryu says he’s ready to go and still fannys about in Okinawa

ANIKI every 2 seconds is really fucking annoying. I abandoned him in serena

30 minute long exposition scene with the politician

Kiryu’s god awful sideburns

Why is Kiryu so W I D E

Goons with annoying introductions

Having to run around finding shit for that stupid dog

Chase sections

I just don’t really get all the Mine love in the fanbase. He’s not developed enough

Dumb fake out death scene

The plot here is messy, though I kind of preferred it over 3 for several reasons. I’ll go into what I made of it:

It’s nice to see Daigo trying to help Kiryu (He tries, he really does) but why not just relocate that orphanage? They build it back in no time when Mine wrecks it so couldn’t he just ask kiryu to move? He needs the cash.

The whole resort/military base thing needing each other was confusing tbh.

The super secret place Kahiwagi stowed Daigo? The hospital. Damn, they’ll never find him there.

Nakahara and co. are nice, but why do we never see them again?

Why would Kazama never mention his CIA operative twin to Kiryu?

So it turns out Joji never actually shot anyone, just that big meanie Andre while Joji just stood there shaking his head in disapproval presumably.

The CIA couldn’t tell that the head of the evil Black Monday was pretending to be a CIA agent?

Kiryu howls in manly pain for poor aul rikyia who he knew for a year, but gets over the death of his mentor/brother figure Kashiwagi in like a minute. And was machine gunning Kashiwagi really necessary?

Mine’s whole ‘I ❤ DAIGO’ thing comes across a bit psycho-esque. He’s cartoonishly evil, demolishes an orphanage for fucks sake. And his reason for going wild are odd. Daigo’s only been in a coma for a few days and he wants to put him down like a lame horse? He’s not even in ICU, he’s hardly a ‘tangle of tubes’, doesn’t even have a dripstand, just an oxygen mask. Reminds me off that scene in the simpsons when Barney tries to smother homer in hospital when he’s actually fine. Plus he sells out to Black Monday for more money cos of some dumb bullshit about real brotherhood or something. He seems to be more popular in japan so I checked out some of his RGG online stories and he comes across as  obsessive over Daigo, which seems one sided. I can’t tell if he’s actually gay for Daigo. There are plenty of very close platonic male friendships in this series but his doesn’t seem that way.

While I never really got into Mine, I really liked Andre as a villain. His plans aren’t the convoluted mess like the other ‘real’ baddies. He just wants to steal some missiles for money. He is so aggressively American that it’s just funny. Blond, tall and blue eyes, refuses to speak Japanese despite understanding it, his silly phrases ‘ah shit’ and ‘go to hell’, giving up on hand to hand combat and just pulling out a glock. Also his white guy entourage looks like they were rounded up outside an office building in Birmingham. His boss fight is actually fun as he doesn’t block as much. His gun doesn’t constantly knock you on your ass like in Kiwami. Gets his ass handed to him by a guy coming out of a coma and completely ruins Mine’s dramatic speech with his his whining ‘let me go’ ‘wah’ ‘stop it’. Also I got last samurai’d on my playthrough as I hadn’t bought any healing items in Okinawa so the Andre and co killed me in that surprise fight. Overall, great villain.

I can see the issues with this game but it was still enjoyable. Some people might even enjoy the slice of life stuff in Okinawa but I resented how I was forced into it, especially when I wanted to get going to Tokyo for the rest of the story. Plus I can suspend belief for Kiryu’s nonsense when it’s a substory, but it seems silly when I’m looking for dogfood when Daigo is comatose in the main section. Goofiest plot so far but the cool villain redeemed it a bit. And it’s nice that Daigo got a badass moment, even if shortlived, he takes a lot of L’s in this series.So it was ok, but I can see why people are less enthusiastic about this one.

[h34vybottom]

This is going to be an annoying long post, feel free to scroll past it. I just want to complain and be a bitch about things I dislike.

I really don't get why people would ever recommend a modern Persona game to someone asking for rpgs to play, especially for a first time rpg. Like I get it, they're popular, but they're also ridiculously bad games w/ a stupid amount of unnecessary time sink. The characters are almost always fucking dreadful, the game is full of fucking gross shit like teachers want to have romantic/sexual relationships w/ students (Not Kamoshida! There's more than just him and he is the only one who is treated like a criminal), and the awful fucking day simulator where the same nothing dialogue repeats ten thousand times per minute while you do repetitive "tasks" (sitting through dialogue) or talking to characters and doing their poorly written side quests. You'll spend a hundred hours in these games and the amount of time actually playing a game will be like 25% or less. The game portions are either so badly made that they're infamous for repelling people off the game(Persona 3) or they're just too pathetically uninteresting and full of pointless pits to get you waste more of your time managing the awful day sim (MP being unnecessarily scarce for a majority of the games besides 4). I get that all of this is subjective, and like yeah, and I'm not going to fault anyone for disagreeing but they're awful recommendations and I fucking hate them. The first three games don't bother wasting your time w/ stupid day sim shit and while they have some bad moments, they're pretty good at not wasting your time over fucking nothing content that goes on for 80 hours. Really wish people would stop pulling out the "1 and 2 don't exist" shit, but alas, no one has moved on from 2011. Me especially. Also, fuck Atlus.

[bloodymoonxvampire]

[ dip ] but like. in reverse. :3

‘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆’ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒.

There was a period of time where each and every time Rei’s path crossed Keito’s, he had to quite mindfully tell his heart to behave.  There was a time where it was difficult to even stand in the same room, to make eye contact.  Keito’s name was poisoned with hurt, with frustration, with childish dreams and desperate games of tug-of-war.  (And oh, he knew very well how guilty he was-- he’d shopped his dagger with the keenest of intent, dressed for the occasion.  He would never pretend he hadn’t fancied a bloodbath.)

But that was before.  These days, AKATSUKI and UNDEAD worked together quite frequently-- less a trick of fate and more simple business practice.  Even now, at this very moment, they found themselves performing together for the sake of some television show that Rei had never heard of.  In some ways, once they graduated, all of their history seemed to almost melt into the background, overtaken by the trappings of civility.  They were adults now, coworkers, and that fact alone somehow softened whatever sharp edges hadn’t been dulled already.

And that was the vital piece-- the worst of the ache in his chest had already subsided, perhaps a year or more ago.  In the wake of the war that followed their falling out, he’d had quite a bit more on his mind than an ex friend’s sanctimonious attempts at making a pawn of him.  And then, well...

He liked to call the feeling up again, now and then, like pulling out an old photograph.  He liked the glint of that dagger, a light of sorts in a dark room.  He liked to think, now and then, that it was worth dragging everything out all over again-- perhaps especially so, now that it was just a photograph.

Keito cut an elegant figure onstage at the worst of times, possessed of a grace not otherworldly or ethereal, but practiced, beyond the reach of wish or prayer.  There was a discipline to his body that struck beholders with awe, a testament to dedication woven into each movement.  Even Rei found himself all but transfixed at times-- but he, too, was a professional.  He, too, was a honed blade.

However, there was just one thing that blades were meant for, even if you found other uses for them.

He knew Keito had never been very good at adapting to unexpected situations, which was why the vampire had always considered it his duty to shove him directly off of his safe platform of rules and structure, and into the deep end.  And for the most part, his efforts hadn’t been entirely in vain; that old deer-in-the-headlights look seemed as though it had all but died, at least.  The cameras were rolling, the music pulsing a beat to bolster the heart, bigger and stronger than such warnings as common sense or decency could ever hope to match up to.  Once Sakuma Rei got an idea, if it could be executed, then it very likely would.

The lights here were brighter than they were back then, colourful and evocative.  This was no grungy underground venue, no traditionally decorated theater; in fact, most of the people watching them were on the other side of a recording, far away from the little world they were creating.  And there was no betrayal here.  What Rei sought wasn’t a weakness-- not exactly.  His blood-red eyes glittered not with anything dark or malicious, but with the sort of excitement one might expect of a child just minutes before class let out.

And there, in the center of the stage, in the eye of the storm, he made his move.  He chose a moment without singing-- because while there was mischief on his mind, he wasn’t out to ruin the performance.  Such a thing would be cruel to his generous employers, to his fellow performers, to his unit mates, and to himself.  Nevertheless, at a moment so natural it could almost have been scripted, he pulled Keito close, his grasp firm and demanding but without bite.  Despite his whimsy, he was careful still, the hand he pressed against Keito’s lower back as much a request as it was a barrier.  He took note of the wheels spinning furiously behind those emerald eyes.  He could almost hear the thoughts that powered them, down to the very syllable, he imagined.

And in the end, he got what he wanted.  While his partner glared at him in that you’re-definitely-going-to-hear-about-this-later way he’d mastered at an early age, Rei nevertheless felt the stiffness in his body ease a little-- and that was the sign he was looking for.  He guided Keito back into a controlled, deceptively fluid dip, and Keito-- professional that he was-- regained just enough of his poise to sink with all the dignity of the moon itself, rising again with cyclic precision.  It was beautiful-- he was beautiful-- at least from Rei’s perspective.

So maybe he’d backed Keito into a corner just to twist him up a little.  But it seemed to him, anyhow, that it had worked out for the better.  It was perfectly suited to the mood of the song, and to the show they were promoting, no less-- executed without a hitch, and just like that, they moved back onto their predetermined tracks.  He would be willing to bet that Keito was the only one less than delighted.

He hadn’t been truthful with himself when he claimed he wasn’t searching for a weakness; he already knew how to make Keito bend for him, and he was certainly capable of doing so in more appropriate ways than this.  But for those brief moments, he stepped into another world, another life, the one that beckoned him whenever he found himself alone with AKATSUKI’s leader for a few seconds too long.

Even after all this time, he was still and always a risk taker, collecting precious moments that reminded him that he was alive.

[aerithkinfaker]

fans of square's modern era games will swear to high heaven that they're amazing and the best pieces of media you will ever experience when, in fact, if you follow squenix's catalogue from the 90s to now (and maybe even before that -- i still need to play through the snes era of final fantasy games) there's been a constant decline in the storytelling of each final fantasy game, and it makes me sad! and this isn't to say that no one should like what you do like (god knows i have my own taste in media that isn't well-liked by the majority of people who know it) -- i like modern final fantasy games. but as time goes on and square enix's development practices degrade as its developers a ground to a fine paste, it just continues to reflect in the games the company put out

ffxiii was a game haunted by the legacy of ffvii -- one that squenix perpetuated throughout the 2000s by its own volition -- and had to be remade from scratch at least once. after the first game they decided to milk it for all it was worth and finish the trilogy with a bad game that effectively ruined every single thing everyone liked about it

ffxv was built on ffxiii's troubled development, locked in dev hell for several years before it was taken off of nomura's hands and switched directors. the final product was and could not, in good faith, be called a finished product because it wasn't. you could only consider it finished after they released four dlcs that filled in the gaps of its story and several updates that spanned across a year that did the same with its gameplay. and even then you can't get the full scope of its story without watching an anime miniseries and the full length cgi movie

it's a series that's become so obsessed with one-upping itself. every entry in the series has to be better than the last (and better than ffvii, specifically) and i can't help but feel its cynicism right on my tongue -- and even then, that's it at its best right now. at worst, it's downright malicious in its storytelling. remake points to its audience and tells them that they're awful for wanting an actual remake of the original game and then goes to... remake the original game in rebirth, except worse! because it can't decide between being an entirely new game or a (bad) adaptation of the source material. there's nothing earnest about it, because if it let itself be vulnerable then the audience will see it for the fragile thing it is.

and that's the main problem with square enix games, i think. nothing is earnest anymore. there's no sense of wonder -- and this shows in the later kingdom hearts games, specifically 3. well, especially 3, where nomura rewrote the ending at least twice and the endgame's world has a total of two minutes to roam around before you're thrown into the final boss rush. it's more concerned with following the conventional pacing than it is pacing itself out to provide proper closure to all the arcs it's meant to tie up, because it's a) easier to make, b) safe, and c) costs less. there's a strange sense of melancholy that hangs in the air of its story. sora is getting older, and growing apart from his friends and everything that shaped him just a couple years ago. so why doesn't the series end? (money.)

throughout writing this i kind of forgot what i wanted to end this with. it's just so hard having to watch these series that i loved over the past six/seven years devolve into something i can't stand anymore.

can't help feeling like i can't stop grieving kingdom hearts and final fantasy