#a mind for strategy (promo)

[the-official-account]

The only thing more fun than an self-sacrificing bisexual is their long list of exes forming an alliance to make them do self care

[iwatcheditbegin]

Why are some fans infantilizing Taylor like this?

[jburrgf]

About You I — The Love Trope Series.

“Do you think I have forgotten about you?”

◦pairing: ¡lsu! joe burrow x ¡ex situashionship! reader

◦summary: second change trope, college relationships, slow burn love, right person wrong time.

◦description: you and joe had a thing months before, but the things ended in a bad way. now, you see yourself stuck in something that requires you to be close to him every single day.

◦playlist: About You - The 1975, Love Me Like You Do - Ellie Golding, Like Real People Do - Hoozier, I Bet You Think About Me - Taylor Swift, Called You Again - Lizzy McAlpine, Tolerate It, ImGonnaGetYouBack, Clean - Taylor Swift

PART ONE: CLEAN.

There are certain moments in life that seem impossible to forget. The second I walked onto LSU’s campus, I knew my life was about to change. But not just because of the classes, the social scene, or the crazy football culture.

When I started in LSU, it was supposed to be a clean slate. A chance to focus on my career path and prove to myself that I could thrive in a bigger pond, surrounded by people just as driven as me. Advertising and Public Relations wasn’t just a degree—it was a strategy. A way to blend my creative instincts with a business-minded edge.

What I didn’t expect was LSU’s football program to be the centerpiece of everything.

LSU football wasn’t just a sport. It was culture, identity, and religion rolled into one. By my second semester, I was interning with the athletic department, brainstorming marketing campaigns and filming promos for the team. I was good at what I did—so good that I convinced myself it didn’t bother me when my work bled into my personal life.

Everything started to go wrong when I met him. Tall, blond, American aesthetic, and so, but so kind. That was Joe Burrow, the youngest transferred from Ohio State to the south. New just like me.

Joe was Joe —calm, collected, and infuriatingly charming. He wasn’t flashy like some of the other players, but the air shifted when he walked into a room. Everyone noticed him. And the first time we crossed paths, I did too.

We met my junior year at a party, back when he was just Joe—a talented quarterback with a quiet intensity and a way of looking at you like he could see straight through every mask you’d ever worn. I hadn’t planned on noticing him, but it was impossible not to.

And since then, I'm haunted by his face, his smile, his smell, his body. Every little thing that made him Joe, it was inside my head like a bad song that you can’t stop singing. I didn’t want that, not in the beginning.

And now, I'm running from him like the plague. Every place he might be, I'm not going. Every little encounter or party, or dinner, or what else, I wasn’t going.

It was a party I didn’t want to go to. Maddie had been bothering me for weeks to go to this party, and honestly, I didn't feel like going. Simply no desire.

"I'm serious, Y/N. You work too hard," Maddie, my best friend at LSU, said to me. We had just left one of our classes together, and were walking around the campus, heading towards Maddie's car. "You're missing the entire college experience."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’m here to build my career, not get drunk at frat houses.”

“Even Beyoncé has to relax,” she shot back. “I’m picking you up at eight, tomorro, no excuses. But now, we’re going to Malone’s.”

[…]

I didn’t want to be here.

Malone’s was Maddie’s favorite spot, a college-town bar where everyone gathered on weekends to drink, laugh, and pretend their responsibilities didn’t exist. It was the kind of place where the sticky floors were part of the charm, and you couldn’t walk two feet without bumping into someone you knew. Normally, I’d avoid it like the plague—especially on a night like tonight, when Maddie’s sole mission was to convince me to go to that stupid party tomorrow.

“You’re being dramatic,” Maddie said as I slid into the booth across from her, the sound of the bar’s chatter and faint music drowning out half her words. “It’s just one party. What’s the worst that could happen?”

I rolled my eyes, pulling my coat tighter around me despite the warmth of the bar. “You say that like you don’t know me. I don’t do frat parties, Maddie. I don’t want to spend my Saturday night elbow-to-elbow with drunk people I barely know.”

“That’s the fun of it,” she countered, her grin far too smug for my liking.

“You’re impossible,” I muttered, reaching for the drink she’d already ordered for me.

“I’m persistent,” she corrected. “And don’t think I didn't notice that you didn’t actually say no.”

I groaned, leaning back in the booth. Maddie had been trying to drag me to this party for days, claiming it was some can’t-miss event that would somehow make my life infinitely better. I wasn’t convinced, but I’d stopped arguing because, frankly, I didn’t have the energy.

I was checking on the bar from above my shoulders when It happened.

Joe Burrow.

The last person I ever expected to see here, especially tonight.

My chest tightened the moment I spotted him standing by the dartboard, his tall frame impossible to miss, his blond hair was slightly disheveled, and the faint scruff on his jaw made him look older than he had when we’d last spoken. Joe was dressed casually, jeans and a hoodie, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world, and was laughing at something one of his friends said, the sound cutting through the low hum of the bar like a knife.It wasn’t just the way he carried himself or the fact that he was Joe Burrow—LSU’s star quarterback—but the way my body reacted, as if it had its own memory of him.

I hadn’t seen him in months—not since we’d ended things without really ending them. And now, seeing him here, so casually present in my space, felt like a slap to the face. Work Out from J Cole was playing, and everything felt like a movie scene.

It wasn’t like we had history. At least not in the way most people assumed. We barely knew each other. But there had been that one night at a party a while back, and another one after a game, and another one at our friends house, and another one… and the tension between us had never fully died down. I could still remember the way his eyes had felt on me, like he was measuring me in some silent way I didn’t know how to interpret.

“Y/N.” Maddie’s voice snapped me out of my daze. She followed my line of sight and groaned. “Oh no.”

I shook my head, panic setting in. “I can’t do this.”

“You don’t even know if he saw you.”

“I’m not sticking around to find out,” I said, already sliding out of the booth.

“Y/N—”

But I was gone, weaving through the crowd toward the back hallway where the bathrooms were. I needed to breathe, to get away from the overwhelming weight of his presence.

The bathroom at Malone’s was about as glamorous as you’d expect—a narrow space with flickering fluorescent lights and graffiti scrawled across the stalls. I locked myself in one of the stalls, leaning back against the door as I tried to steady my breathing.

Of all the places to run into Joe, it had to be here.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about him. I had—more than I cared to admit. But thinking about him was one thing. Seeing him, knowing he was just a few feet away, was something else entirely.

I couldn’t face him. Not now, not here.

The bathroom was quiet, the kind of eerie stillness that felt out of place in the chaos of Malone’s. I leaned against the sink, staring at my reflection in the smudged mirror.

“Get it together,” I whispered to myself, taking a deep breath.

I didn’t even know why I was reacting like this. It wasn’t like we were still together. We weren’t anything anymore. And yet, the sight of him had thrown me completely off balance, dredging up feelings I thought I’d buried a long time ago.

But I couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever, either.

I opened the bathroom door and nearly walked straight into him.

Joe was leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom, his arms crossed over his chest and his gaze fixed squarely on me.

I froze, my heart hammering in my chest.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and steady, a hint of amusement curling at the edges.

Nope.

Without a second thought, I ducked back into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, and I bit my lip to keep from screaming. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

I paced the small space, my mind racing. He’d seen me, which meant he was waiting for me. I couldn’t hide in here forever, but the thought of facing him felt impossible.

Eventually, I forced myself to take a deep breath and opened the door again.

Joe was gone.

Relief flooded through me as I stepped out into the hallway, my eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of him. But instead of Joe, my attention was drawn to a small slip of paper pinned to the corkboard on the wall next to the bathroom.

It wasn’t there before.

Curious, I stepped closer and pulled it free. The handwriting was unmistakable—slanted and bold, with a certain sharpness to the letters that felt uniquely him.

“Go to the party tomorrow. Please.”

I stared at the note, my heart pounding for an entirely different reason now.

My fingers tightened around the paper as Maddie appeared at the end of the hallway, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“What’s that?” she asked, gesturing to the note.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, shoving it into my pocket.

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. “Ready to head back? I don’t think Joe’s here anymore.”

I nodded, though my mind was miles away.

Maybe tomorrow. Maybe I would go. Maybe I wouldn’t.

But one thing was for sure: Joe Burrow had just made sure I wouldn’t forget this night.

——————————————

part 2: About You II (The Love Trope Series) — All Over Me.

hey guys! this is the beginning of my Love Tropes Series. The first part, About You, it’s going to be launched in four parts! stay tuned :)

[roo-bastmoon]

De-platform, Co-opt, En-joy

Roo's Guide to Handling Haters

Disclaimer: Not telling you guys how to run your blogs. Just sharing some tips on how to deprive narcissists of supply and live your best life online.

You're gonna see a LOT of hate, lies, and bullshit over Are You Sure? It's already started.

And everyone has their own way of dealing with that--whether it's to take a step back from the internet, or get into a dog fight in the comments, or compose thoughtful essays deconstructing ideas. I'm not here to pressure you into any one particular strategy--your blog, your rules.

But I've been in various online fandoms for 25 years now, on tumblr for 14, in ARMY for three, and I do have some wisdom I can share, if you want it.

Here are my three tips:

De-platform

It's well past time Jikookers de-center Taekookers and antis from our spaces, our narratives--and our minds. They live in a separate reality, they do not debate in good faith, and they get vicious when they don't get their way.

Consider carefully if you want to repost, or reblog, or reply to anyone casting doubt, slinging insults, or spouting conspiracy theories, especially over the next few months.

Would you buy them ad space? No? Then don't give them an inch in your space. Quietly report and block.

Mocking them often feeds into their victim complex. Don't feed them anything. Don't bring trash in this house.

They get nothing. Nothing.

Co-opt

If you just can't completely ignore or remove them, then don't waste precious energy arguing every little point with them. Their goal is to sap your energy.

Take a page out of an aikido self-defense handbook and use their own momentum against them.

Attacks are now an opportunity to spam the shit out of that hateful post with loving hashtags and links to playlists and fundraisers.

They just gave us free promo; go full-tilt Wunseidel on their asses.

En-joy

The best revenge is to live well.

Deeply, deeply enjoy and savor the content you do want to see. Leave no crumbs. Smack your lips and hum in satisfaction with every delicious bite.

The Jikook tag should be one big non-stop party-party-yeah extravaganza from now until well past September 19th.

Antis should be just sick to death of trying to come online for fear of seeing people ecstatically celebrating everything we get, and totally ignoring the ruiners.

Our boys are happy. They want us to be happy for them. So be happy.

Do. NOT. let the ruiners. RUIN it.

Above all, don't become the kind of fan that Jimin or Jungkook would be ashamed of.

You don't have to defend or resist a damned thing.

They shared all these amazing moments with us, and that is the best testament to the truth there is. So sit back, relax, enjoy.

Be sure.

Love, Roo <3

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

Saving Face

(8x05 speculation fic based on the promo stills)

“That's not a pimple, Evan.”

“No, it's the curse of the mummy.”

“It's what?”

Buck can't blame Tommy for the raised eyebrow, he's behaving weird even by his standards. For one thing, it’s strange to welcome your boyfriend, hood pulled firmly into your face, with a fleeting embrace to avoid the inevitable kiss. Tommy has his strategies though, and eventually he got it out of him, "There's something on my face, it's a pimple, I mean, it's Halloween, it's embarrassing" and similar babble. So he made him pull down his hood. Buck doesn't like the look on Tommy's face, though. He sighs.

“The mummy,” he repeats, taking a deep breath. “I... I might have done something stupid.”

Tommy smiles. It's such a sweet smile, a mixture of indulgence and, well, being smitten. Buck loves it when Tommy does that, when the corners of his mouth turn upwards and the fine lines next to his eyes deepen.

“I'm sure it has nothing to do with mummies, but just start from the beginning.”

“Yeah, well... but it has to do with a mummy,” sighs Buck. “Halloween decorations at the fire station, precisely. I love Halloween, Tommy.“

Tommy's smile deepens. Of course he knows - Buck has been talking about nothing else in the last few weeks. This is new, like so many things: that someone listens to him unconditionally, doesn't look at him leniently as if he were a child. Maybe it��is childish to love a holiday that is all about sweets, dressing up and pranks. But when it comes to his childhood, these are the days Buck remembers most fondly. These few carefree hours without thinking, without worries, away from his both overprotective and dismissive parents. The praise he got for his costumes - from strangers, never from his mother, whose pursed lips only demanded that Maddie not let him out of her sight. Buck may have made peace with many things from his past, but he doesn't want to miss out on the boyish fun that Halloween brings him.

“Anyway... Hen and I have a kind of competition every year to see who can come up with the weirdest decorations. She once brought a real skeleton, that was so cool!“

“A real skeleton?” Tommy repeats slowly, doubt in his eyes.

"Yeah," Buck explains with a grand gesture, "don't worry, it was all ethical and such. The guy has bequeathed his body to science, without exception.”

“Doesn't seem very scientific to me,” Tommy interjects, but Buck keeps talking.

"At any rate, I had to find something that was even better. Last month, there was an emergency at the museum, I think I told you about it...”

“Oh,” says Tommy, who seems to be slowly realizing where this is going. “The Egyptologist who somehow locked himself in a glass case?”

“Exactly. A real klutz, but also extremely nice and fascinating. I called him. Just about the prank, of course.”

He slips this information in afterwards so that Tommy doesn't think he thinks the guy is cool. He is cool, of course, but he’s not hot. It’s stimulating to see Tommy jealous, but now’s not the time.

“He said he can't give me any of the Egyptian mummies, and to be honest, I think they're creepy too. But they have others because they're preparing an exhibition about natural mummification through weather conditions.”

“Wait, your decoration was a real corpse?”

“A guy who died in 1868 when a tunnel collapsed in a salt mine. Preserved by salt, so cool.”

Tommy blinks and says, “Is that even legal?”

Buck shrugs, “The body couldn't be recovered for a hundred years, and there were no next of kin. So technically it belonged to the state, who decided to give it to the museum.”

“I meant, for the museum to just give you a corpse... never mind, go on.”

“It's no ordinary corpse, it's a mummy. A salt mummy, to be precise. Anyway, I brought it to the station in a wooden coffin.”

“These are not exactly ideal conditions for a corpse that’s over 150 years old.”

“Not really,” Buck grudgingly admits, ”I mean, I should have thought of that, shouldn't I? The museum guy should have reminded me. He's the absent-minded professor type, I think. Well, anyway... I don't know exactly. What if it was too warm, and the mummy was fuming something?”

“Oh,” Tommy says, sounding strangely relieved, ”you don't really think it was a curse, but bacteria?”

“Might not be much better,” Buck says gloomily. “This thing on my cheek is huge. Maybe it's filled with spiders or something. Or some ancient disease?”

“All right, now let me have a look at it.”

Buck lets out a deep sigh. He looks bad, he knows that, and he definitely doesn't want Tommy to take a closer look at him now. But the man tilts his head and says, as if he can read his mind, “Evan. Last month you had a cold, along with a Rudolf-like red nose and your adorable curls in an Einstein hairstyle. Do you really think anything you have on your face could throw me off?”

Buck remembers last month. Tommy had been worried because he hadn't responded to his messages, and he didn’t like the fact Bobby told him about Buck’s sick leave. “That's part of it,” he said at the time. “I don't just want to see you when you get medals, I also want to be there when you're full of snot.”

Buck still has to get used to that. Tommy leans forward and examines his face closely. He’s not very good in hiding his concerns.

“Nope, definitely not a pimple. Maybe an abscess. We should go to the hospital, it probably needs to be cut open.”

“No, we had plans for tonight,” protests Buck.

"Sure, if you want to scare the kids at the front door with your face, go ahead," Tommy replies dryly, "but I don't want it to inflame. Maybe it's already infected. You don't want a scar on your pretty face, honey.“

Buck blinks. Then he swallows. Then he blinks again.

“Y... you called me…”

Tommy looks confused for a moment, then grins.

“Oops. I actually had a different moment in mind when I first called you a pet name, but now is as good a time as any. Is that okay? Honey?”

“It's perfect.”

Buck's cheeks hurt from his smile, he can't stop. But it could also be the thing on his face hurting.

“Not too cheesy? Unmanly? Weird?”

Tommy's face is covered in a hint of pink, it's breathtaking.

“No,” says Buck, ”the only weird thing here is the thing on my face. But I don't want to go to hospital. It'll take hours.”

“Well, but...”

“Let's call Eddie. He's great with this kind of stuff.”

“Abscesses?”

“Field operations.”

"This isn't a war zone," Tommy says, but his face says otherwise. He sighs. “All right, call Eddie.”

Buck starts a video call, and when Eddie picks up, he puts his face close to the phone.

"Eddie," he begs, "come here and look at this!"

“Yikes,” Eddie says. “I'll be there in 30.”

“You might still need to see a doctor,” Tommy points out when Buck hangs up.

“Or not,” says Buck optimistically. “Whatever the outcome... I'm glad you're here.”

“Good,” says Tommy, and then his face does that adorable scrunch again. “I'd kiss you, but who knows about your other cheek.”

“You could disinfect it,” Buck suggests.

“Yeah, or we just wait for Eddie's opinion. I'm sure it'll be fine, and then I'll kiss you so much you'll wish I'd stop.”

“I would never,” says Buck, beaming.

[AO3] [All my BuckTommy on AO3]

[babyb1ues]

About Xavier’s online presence, virality and what it could mean for his identity

I find it interesting that he often ends up in front of a camera somehow, someway despite wanting to be “lowkey.” It makes sense that he’d avoid any type of photograph or video since he’s been around for so long, and having records of his existence could be detrimental and suspicious, but I wonder if meeting MC just has him throwing caution to the wind. Or maybe it’s because he thinks it’s his last “spring” so it’s like, whatever.

I always believed that he definitely had gone viral before, and the 4 star card that just dropped validates me, lol.

This text above happened before the myth card, aka before the movie, so I also think he got the gig from this. Wouldn’t be surprised if producers especially asked for him.

So, he has a sort of online presence. You’d probably could search pictures of him online. He’s been on a TV ad, has interviews and pictures of him going around, has his name in the Lumiere movie credits, not to mention his face was posted for promo by the movie’s account. It’s like if your face got posted on twitter by Marvel. Like, it’s not lowkey… at all.

Lumiere is a huge IP. It’s a brand at this point, of course it’s huge, there’s nothing people love more than /based on a true story/ and /superheroes/. Lumiere is beyond celebrity status and has become an icon in its own right. But that also means, he’s immensely talked about. There’s probably forums and online discussions about his identity—who he is, where he’s gone. Like, he probably has a Netflix documentary. Zooming in and dissecting grainy pictures of Lumiere, trying to get whatever detail they can. Mannerisms, physical appearance, fighting strategy, and god knows what else. I imagine he’s been picked apart to exhaustion.

With fame and mystique comes the conspiracies. So, they got his basic characteristics—build, hair color, fighting strategy, his fucking /evol/. And maybe even add in a witness report. Imagine somebody saw his eyes, heard his voice.

And then there’s Xavier, a notable and talented hunter who just so happens to sort of resemble Lumiere, and sort of fights like him, and his evol sort of looks like his. And you know this because it’s all fucking online.

It’s not hard to put two and two together. But hey, it’s just a conspiracy.

You think that with him being around for so long, he’d be wary of cameras, of leaving a trail. But he doesn’t seem to mind, or at least doesn’t act paranoid about it. I don’t know if it’s nothing or if it’s an intentional thing planted by the devs. To have his real identity leaked would be a mess—the public reaction, the pr nightmare. And there’s also the actual bounty on his head, how easy it would be to find him now.

I think somebody’s bound to find out. And for the sake of the plot and my own entertainment, I kinda hope they do 😁

[jkftkth]

Sabotaging taekook is not only to elevate their fav member but also to undersell them to negotiate contracts. These people think they are so smart. If bangpd wants to keep taekook under his thumb the best way would be to sabotage them differently. Hybe undersell Taehyung deliberately to make it look like he is nothing without group. And only promotes Jungkook on their conditions (AYS!). I think everyone remembers how weird it was that company didn't contact Jungkook for anything. I don't know much of that is a fact but looking at history of whatever Jungkook has achieved is either distributed with the group or attached with fanship narrative. They also elevated the third member with heavy promo to show they are not dependent on taekook and oversell to investors. On the surface it looks like one is getting everything and the other nothing. Result: constant fight wars between both of their solos. Fandom will believe they are not close and group who supports both of them (tkk) will be mocked and labeled deranged.

If taekook were any less of people or had no United front, company would have done much worse. I don't claim to know what goes inside their heads or how they negotiate but BANG PD is greedy first. While his ego is huge and he will do anything to sabotage anyone who he can't control (Tae), money matters a lot. This way even after sabotaging Tae, his pockets are filled because fans want to outdo each other.

This is a classic but cheap strategy many conglomerate adopts.

it’s a very cheap strategy i agree.

if there’s one thing any of us should take from the current report drama, is that hybe doesn’t respect their artists. they talk about them, and also other idols who are under different companies apparently, as mere products and experiments. i said this to @charjube on here, but the contents of their report reminded me of how army act in fandom wars because the wording was very similar. that in itself should tell you that the writer of this report is chronically online, and deep in our spaces, and his analysis, if we can even call it that, has no real basis.

the contents are only narratives they need to push. we should be asking ourselves why are these narratives important, and what role are we playing in spreading/accepting/challenging these narratives.

when you keep that in mind, it makes you cautious of what to believe, and i think that’s very important right now. i personally know that from this point onwards, i’m taking a step back away from army and solos’ opinions whenever something new happens, because they are biased and based around intense emotions, and those emotions are so often a product of hybe’s manipulative tactics. and i don’t want to fall for that. people who are falling for that are throwing either of t/k under the bus.

i’m seeing so much drama especially today, so i thought i’d answer your ask now, but when we want to have a conversation about mistreatment and sabotage, we need to understand that things have to be separated for us to get somewhere that’s not a fandom war. jk can have been given tools for his album that tae never got and still have been denied basic protection of his well-being and his reputation.

the tools were more about needing to portray bang pd and scooter as “success makers” (bang pd literally tried to make it out that if scooter hadn’t been involved, jk’s album would’ve been in trouble) than it was about the person’s “privilege” or himself. because if the company really cared for the person himself, jk’s schedule would have been a healthy one that didn’t prioritize promoting another member, and his rumors circulating on DC would’ve been shut down immediately regardless of whether that would bring “hate” to the member who’s fans were being malicious, and he wouldn’t have been stalked and harassed, and he wouldn’t have been stripped of his autonomy for his own success and he wouldn’t have been trash talked on blind by staff. where’s the respect here to be found?

unfortunately, a lot of tae solos think that good promotion = the company has your back. if the company had jk’s back, they wouldn’t have a vip membership to sojang.

the company has bang pd’s back. they’re out here embarrassing themselves at the national assembly just so bang pd can carry on pretending he hasn’t been summoned for questioning. bang pd is after his own career. he’s moved towards focusing on his branding in the US and so jk was used conveniently to promote hybe america, because mediaplay is all bang pd has going for himself.

moving on to tae, if there is any tkkr, jk biased or tae biased, who still believes that what he’s being put through is similar to anyone else, or even remotely on a similar level to the rest, we have a problem. he is being beaten down. his career is being toyed with. he is seen by the company as a convenient shield/experiment for later group situations. his achievements are being erased, manipulated, distorted. staff are being told to make up hate to undermine his success. smear campaign after smear campaign. no protection. but apparently heavy monitoring. sneakily swaying fandom opinion and apparently staff opinion of him to make him seem like an outsider. the list goes on.

there is no artist protection when it comes to taekook. there is no respect. there are just narratives and bang pd’s ego. because if you think, that all the discourse and reactions since solo chapter weren’t all instigated by the company, go back to putting your head in the sand.

at least k-kths and k-jjks understand.

[skepticalarrie]

Hey there! I was wondering what your thoughts are on the boys public image going forward into the future. Louis public image has obviously changed a lot, at least in my opinion with from beginning of 1D, to bad boy Louis, uninvolved father to father of the year. Harry more open in recent years but still the model dating womanizer, one year relationship guy. Do we think Harry continues that way? Or as he gets older will there be a push for him to “settle down” as well or just continue like this?

Oh, but that’s so hard to predict, anon. It really depends on their professional goals and what they want moving forward. Maybe what we can discuss is what the fanbase wants from them and how other artists are shaping their PR strategies.

This might seem unrelated, but I’m very into trend forecasting and study it a lot for marketing strategies in my job. So we can easily draw parallels between brands and artists in the entertainment industry. Right now, there’s a huge desire for authenticity, truth, and honesty—mostly driven by issues like mental health, social media, and politics. Basically, people just want to connect with others who share their beliefs and who can genuinely represent them on a deeper level. So, any kind of interaction or action that feels insincere, surface-level, or disconnected from the public tends to be dismissed and forgotten. Which is what I assume most artists are focusing on currently.

With that in mind, I think Louis has really found a way to connect with his fans by leaning into his "Father of the Year" persona and going back to his roots in this new era. I’ve touched on this before, but I think it was a significant rebrand. Making his family and backstory central to his public persona helps fans feel like they truly know him, not just "stage Louis." His album and tour were very successful, and I think he’s in a great place right now. IMO this is the path he’ll stick to for the next few years, at least.

As for Harry, I’m going to guess he’s probably recalibrating right now?! At least, I hope he is! He’s a mainstream artist, and his public image needs to be managed on a bigger scale. The whole Holivia situation and the Grammys put him in a bit of hot waters, and his public image wasn’t at its best during that time. So, I expect some rebranding and new strategies (hopefully) for HS4. People aren’t really buying the old PR relationships and "fuck boy" image that Harry has leaned on since his 1D days. It used to generate a lot of attention and fuel female fantasies, but it’s not being received the same way anymore. He came dangerously close to being seriously canceled with Holivia. So, I think he needs to pivot in a different direction, I assume a lot of artists with similar strategies as him are also in a similar situation and this concern has been a discussion in his fanbase for a while now. It’s tricky because being a womanizer has always been part of his public persona and used to his advantage for promo. Honestly, I don’t think he’ll completely drop that (maybe ever) because there’s still some appeal to it, but being too mysterious or ambiguous about certain things has an expiration date. Rumors and controversy sell, but they can also get you canceled—it’s a pretty dangerous line to walk these days. So, I think he’ll need to start balancing things out carefully.

[yiga-hellhole]

TFTK 23&24

His forces gathered, Zant plots his next move. The Triforce of Power is within reach now, and he will need little more than a Blade to retrieve it.

hiiii everyone. since i've added the prologue (which will be getting its own promo image.. eventually...) the chapter counts are a bit out of wack so this update is both. the update has been up on ao3 for a bit but artfight season made me a little slow on the visual art side! but no longer! SOOO excited to bring you all this update!

once again thank you to the lovely @bulgariansumo and @orfeolookback for betareading!!!

CW this chapter for body horror, graphic violence, mutilation

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17

As the days at the Bulblin settlement went on, so did their army grow. Those who stayed at the encampment as visitors spread the word home, and as perilous as it was to spread the information of the deceptively alive lieutenants, Zant had permitted it gladly. After all, Hyrule was much too busy celebrating victory to pay any mind to those fractured tribes, now without a cause to unite under. Oh, what little did they know!

Very much united under a cause, Zant had gathered commanders from their haphazard bands in the new Chief’s tent – Earl Eydra, second daughter of the late Hallra, also accompanied by Lord Banayu, spokesman of the Bokoblin tribes. His very own Ghirahim, of course, stood right beside him, etching away at a map that Zant gingerly brushed his fingertips along. 

The Valley of Seers. Zant had never seen it, but Ghirahim had twice over. Being meticulous as ever, he had of course committed every second of footage to memory, and translated every measurement and possible point of interest onto paper. 

Negotiations followed as usual. Instead of being a silent bystander who offered his knowledge only when an interruption was permitted, Zant took an active role. He stood at the front of the map, all his pegs and baubles at his disposal, and commandeered it as though his movements would shift the fabric of reality itself. Intel was exchanged for commands ‘round the strategy table. One bokoblin stood by the side of one particularly dull-looking, flat-faced hound man, relaying information through a different tongue in hushed whispers. The dimwitted lug nodded hard, his floppy ears wiggling with the effort. Ghirahim wondered if brute strength among dolts like those would be enough to win them this battle.

But he supposed that’s what he and Zant were for.

Ghirahim quickly returned to sketching his map. Zant was catching up to him, his brow increasingly furrowed by what he saw. “Is it not possible that, at this point, Sorceress Lana is instead taking residence in the Temple of Souls?” asked Zant, seeming perturbed by the inhospitable sights of the Valley. 

“We find it unlikely, Sire,” hissed a Hyrulean soldier from across the tent, bearing a voice far slimier than a human would suggest. 

This out-of-place figure soon turned out to be perfectly where he should be. He grimaced, his hands tightening in claws. The metal on his gauntlets melted to black, then to skin, then to dark brown fur over clawed, spindly paws. Helmet and pauldrons similarly fused to his flesh, until it became his flesh itself. The plumed feather on his helmet ripped into two, twitching to each side of his head to form ears. Finally, his cloak unfurled into a pair of ink-black bat wings, quivering and flapping with relief of freedom. Now revealed, the Ache perched its hands on the edge of the table and leered at his General with great anticipation.

Only to have the gloved hand of his Lieutenant smashed indignantly in his face.

“You will not speak unless permitted,” snarled Ghirahim, baring his teeth at this defiance. “Now you may continue.”

The lesser demon whined, rubbing its wrinkled snout. It gulped down any other sniffles and spoke. “Egh… Th-... The Temple is currently being used as a jail. Lieutenants Yuga and Wizzro are held prisoner there, awaiting prosecution, Sire.”

Zant perked up almost pleasantly. “Is that so? I expected them to have been executed by now. Well, that saves me some time and effort.”

Before Ghirahim could frown too hard at his statement, Zant disturbed him even further. “Perhaps Hyrule noticed that right now, for Yuga, being alive is enough of a punishment. But that will have to wait until later. Tell me of our battlefield.”

The team of scouts relayed their findings. Having eyes in the skies once again worked thoroughly in their favor; the whole of the Valley had been surveyed in practically no time at all. On a dark, cloudy night, the hides of their demon forces would be noticed by none. And to their luck, as Zant expected, their target was scarcely guarded. A handful of outposts, at most, with hardly five hundred men huddled about in total. A disaster to encounter in formation, but pathetic when spread thin across the entire territory. Even better, with Ganon’s defeat, Hyrule had sent its guests across time home in a teary goodbye. Left in this realm were only the Princess, her Knight, her General, and the Sorceress. In other words, Lana was thoroughly unprepared for any sort of siege.

“How awfully convenient,” said Ghirahim, bringing a hand skeptically to his face. “I’d almost think this is a trap.”

Zant snickered under his breath, arranging pawns wherever the little tippy-taps of batty fingers told him where outposts sat. “On the contrary, Ghirahim. It makes perfect sense. What enemies does Hyrule expect to have left, that they cannot confidently tackle in isolated groups?”

Pawns thwacked decisively in place. “It’s clear to me. Tell me, Lord Eydra, have you heard anything, at all, from our neighbors further out into the sands?”

Eydra shook her head, her horns clacking and bangles jingling. “None at all, Sir. Not a peep from ‘em since ‘ey’ve gone and blown up a couple weeks ago.”

Ah, that whole incident. So he was not suspected of having caused the moon crash in the desert. At least, not by these people. Ghirahim restrained his expression and turned to him. “So they’re leaving the Gerudo alone. That means…”

“The ones who birthed their nemesis? Who conspired against Hyrule’s throne? That ought to have been their first order to persecute. Yet they are not. Most definitely, Hyrule is laying low. Staying out of trouble as it rebuilds, I’ll wager,” Zant smiled, flicking Ghirahim’s finger as he pointed it at the map. “Oh, my blade. Taking the Valley will be a breeze. And the Triforce with it.”

That was when a slight snort caught their attention. Lord Banayu stuck his snout over the table and made himself heard. “Respectfully, Sire. If it will be such a ‘breeze’, as you say… I don’t see why our starting numbers are to be so small,” he asked, tapping a thick-nailed finger at a group of pawns on the map. “We ought to clear them out as quickly as possible.”

“On the contrary. I intend to deceive her.”

Brows raised around the room.

Their collective confusion only served to make Zant grin more. “If we go all out from the start as you suggest, Lord Banayu, the Sorceress will cry to the Palace before we can even reach her dwelling. If we give her the idea she can win on her own… She will spell her own doom, and we will decimate her at the last second.”

As his fellow conspirator stood there, palms upturned in an inviting gesture and his ego swelling to burst, Ghirahim clicked his tongue. “A bit of a cowardly move.”

Earl Eydra, once hesitant, now nodded along to Ghirahim’s words. “Aye. Your old boss never would have bothered with such mind games.”

“And that’s precisely why he is dead and I remain standing,” Zant stated bluntly, unflinchingly, his hands folded behind his back. “Any further questions?”

–

Their march would be a long one, rife with delays and detours. They simply could not risk their procession being spotted by any opposing force; tension in Eldin, in particular, ran wild, with clades once squashed now once again vying for territory. But the Valley was right around the corner. Zant’s forces had set up their camp (the one he was in, at least), just past the hills that separated the rain-shadowed grasslands of the south with the green hills of the north. Beyond the tallest of those hills, the Valley was in sight.

That was where Ghirahim and Zant then stood, overlooking that promised land. It was strange seeing the place free from Cia’s influence. Where the sky was once swirling and ominously crimson, it was no different from the dark blue veil of the horizon now. They would gather no intel just standing there, watching from afar. Zant likely just wanted to brood.

Speak of the devil, there he went, and said, “just between us, Ghirahim.”

Ghirahim perked up, not looking at him just yet. “My. I’m privy to your secrets, now?”

Zant frowned a little. “I’ve none more to keep from you. Either way… We will be the only ones to face Lana tomorrow. I’ve played up our strengths to our men, but they will only be taking care of her fodder. That being said, we cannot underestimate the Sorceress whatsoever.”

“Oh? We’ve taken care of her just fine before,” Ghirahim noted, idly turning a dagger in his hand to check it for nicks.

Shaking his head, Zant looked down the hills. “And yet I believe she’s stronger than she lets on. In fact, I think she might be older than this land itself.”

“Impossible,” Ghirahim frowned, dismissing the dagger with a snap of his fingers. “I’ve never heard of her until I arrived here, and I’ve lived eons before Hyrule came to be.”

Zant stepped up to loom over him, eyes narrowing. “You’re not listening. I meant this land.”

Whenever Zant was being vague like this, he’d usually think he caught onto some mystery or other. Ghirahim saw no point in delaying the inevitable and sighed. “This again… Fine, prattle away.”

At once, the shadow over his eyes faded, replaced by a manic glint. Ghirahim almost spotted a smile when Zant turned away from him. “I was doing some digging before we entered this phase of the assault,” because naturally, he had. “Of course, I wasn't the first to be curious about the nature of this world. I stumbled upon it in the Sorceress’ library – the bizarre ways of timekeeping in this area, the oddities in the landscape; it did not escape the notice of scholars in this time.”

Ghirahim put his hands on his sides, fully prepared to stand there for another hour or two. “And, I take it, they came to a similar conclusion?”

“Indeed. At some point, the different branches of time must have converged, and their landscapes with it. We saw it in Faron Woods, and the Master Sword’s pedestal, deep within,” he said, his gestures leaving light trails behind his hands. Odd runes shaped into approximate images of the locations he named, but could hardly take shape before he clawed them to smoke and turned insistently to Ghirahim. “Which, in and of itself, was a duplicate! An empty husk!”

When he thought on it, he recalled that the Master Sword of this era had been stored in a different temple, right in the middle of Lake Dumoria, southwest of Faron Woods. Yet, a pedestal remained in Faron, the one they saw for themselves. Did the sealing place change? Ghirahim realized any question he asked might leak into another hour, so he simply nodded. “As you say.”

“Think about it, Ghirahim. For Lana – for me, to have command over allies and monsters of the past, all of these worlds must have once existed. Otherwise, we would have to reach across realities, a power befitting only a God. And I, not yet, have recognized such power, neither in her or in myself.”

Suddenly, Zant turned around, giving himself room to pace about frantically. “But for them to merge in the first place… This would explain why the magicks she uses are unknown to us both. They must have been born from divine force, to be uniquely wielded by Cialana, with the Triforce of Power as its conduit. It must have been her to merge these worlds.”

Ghirahim frowned, cocking his head. “... Right. And, you don’t suppose this god-like power could have perished with Cia?”

Turning back to look at the Valley, Zant’s expression lightened by an uncharacteristic degree. “I wholeheartedly admit I haven’t the slightest clue. Let us not risk finding out.”

Bemused by his attitude, Ghirahim sidled up next to him, deciding to give him attitude by bending at the hip and leaned into his field of vision. “And what do you want me to do about it?”

Zant grinned. “I’ve combed a fair share through this magic. It requires vocal commands first and foremost. When we come to face her, silence her,” he said, reaching to cup Ghirahim’s chin in his fingers. He tilted him back upright, guiding their eyes to meet. “Cut her tongue out if you must.”

Ghirahim returned a smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Zant seemed content with this exchange, though the thumb stroking across the Sword Spirit’s chin and the eyes latching onto him for a moment made it seem like he’d wished for more. But the open air always made Zant uneasy, and Ghirahim knew this. So when the former did indeed step away, the latter was only mildly disappointed. “If all that is clear to you,” Zant said, “I’m going to do something I should have done a long time ago. When my usurpation comes to fruition, I’ll be far too busy for it.”

The allure of bloodshed putting him in a bit of a mood, Ghirahim turned to him with a croon. “And what might that be?”

With thorough nonchalance, Zant then proceeded to kick off his shoes. Toes wriggling in the grass, he promptly set off almost gleefully, as if mere seconds prior they hadn’t discussed a violent coup.

“You’re a looney,” Ghirahim said, watching him wade through the plains. “You’re sick in the head.”

“And you are functionally immortal,” Zant quipped back. He climbed up on the roots of a gnarled cedar nearby, his hand resting on its bark. “Confident as I am in our victory, I’m grabbing my little shreds of joy where I can get them. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Ears piqued at the sound of some insect, Zant’s eyes scanned the green expanse before him. When spotting what he was looking for, he didn’t so much as prowl for it as he hopped down from his vantage point, shambled towards it, and launched himself into the grass with a slapdash vault. 

“As I thought,” he exclaimed, struggling to keep the object of his interest trapped in his cupped hands. “I haven’t seen this species yet!”

It was a miracle he’d even caught the damned thing. How could he think about such frivolous things now? Ghirahim stood and shook his head in sheer disbelief, but felt compelled to follow him either way. Just in case, (and it was likely), Zant’s lack of self-preservation had remained even as his plans were unfolding successfully, and he somehow managed to slip and crack his head on a rock, or some such nonsense. A little nest of grass denting below him, Zant sat in the meadows, the brittle strands of his hair waving along in the wind with the sea of green. He cradled a bottle with the cricket carefully in one hand and consulted his field journal in the other, a smile on his face as he noticed Ghirahim beside him.

So calm he was, the night before a crucial, all-deciding siege. Normally, mortals would pace before a war, even the mightiest of generals anxious in the face of death. Lacking sleep, decreased appetites, heart rates skyrocketing, and pleasantries ‘round the camp dwindling to an all-consuming air of dread. Consuming all but Ghirahim, at least. Battle was his purpose, his joy. Nerves were just about the last thing on his mind.

And now, beside him, there was a man studying wildflowers like it was just another day. Ghirahim found himself jarred by just how much he understood him, then. So, an odd, tickling weight rolling about in his core, he kneeled beside him and watched along.

—

The night of their assault arrived quietly. A deep black sky, with stars shimmering like the facets of an onyx, served as the hiding blanket for hundreds of demons. On foot, the first wave of their army marched to the hills circling the Valley. Without Cia’s influence, the Valley appeared that much more tranquil. Heather grasses and saplings reared their heads timidly above healing soil, not knowing they’d have been better off staying below. In the epicenter of the Valley, hovering above a fog-stained cliff, was the Sorceress’ altar. Like swarms of ants, the alerted soldiers rushed their way to their posts, all eyes aimed at the hills where they would meet their match. Down the dozens of staircases, they ran, clinging themselves to every corner they could think to fortify, and then, lay in wait.

Beside Ghirahim, Zant was calm. He was without helmet, and would remain that way, it seemed. When Lana broke it back in the Gerudo Desert, it must have been gone for good. They had been spotted by a band of Hyrulean scouts much earlier, whose horses kicked up a concealing cloud of dust as they galloped to warn their commander of the impending ambush. But they would not know all – beyond the hills, many more Blins were waiting, and their aerial troops remained undetected. 

How eerily this first stretch of the battle resembled Zant’s exact plans.

In this initial quiet, before Zant could raise his hand and release the floodgates on their troops, Ghirahim pondered just how strange a situation he was in. Once again, he was at war, taking commands from a man other than his Master. For Cia, it had been the promise of Demise that had strung him along sufficiently enough to tolerate it. But Zant… By all means, he should hate this man. And he did, in a way, but the anger he felt no longer needed a vengeful release. 

They had shared a bed again. Hands wrapped lovingly, yet fiercely around his waist, his wrists, his throat, as if grasping onto his hilt. Ever since Zant had used part of him to behead the late Bulblin Earl, he’d been drunk on the feeling of being wielded. So he didn’t care anymore, how treacherous it felt to have a part of him presently thrumming in Zant’s zealous grip. He sensed death in the eyes of the man who wielded his so-precious shard, and like the starved hunting dog he was, he wanted to chase after it. There was blood to be spilled, power to be taken. As any legendary blade, Ghirahim lusted for his name to be chronicled. In the past, he had scarcely been remembered. This changed today.

Zant marched onward, and onward, and onward. Eyes set on nothing but his goal, he waded his way through the crowd as if it hadn't existed at all. Any soldiers that dared close in on him were repelled instantly by an unseen force, and those that did manage to push past, met their end by the instinctive lash of Ghirahim’s blades. The Demon trailed his false king like a shadow, as thoroughly under his dominion as all of darkness had ever been. His scimitar swung over his shoulder, he hadn’t drawn it even once, depending instead on his Blade to guard him differently. Their passage left a scar on the battlefield, of dead meat and soil. That was how they combed through the Valley, cleaving the crowd as they traversed the scattered islands that would lead them to their prize.

The only thing to shake Zant out of his enduring resolve was the first display of the Sorceress’ magic. A pale blue light appeared ‘round the corner of the Altar’s gates. From it, swinging its pincers fiercely, came a towering Gohma, scuttling its way directly to the pair of commanders.

Zant instantly zipped himself behind his lieutenant. A light, encouraging tap on his shoulder and a whisper, caught Ghirahim’s attention.

“Buy me some time.”

So he did. Ghirahim swerved around to the raging creature’s legs, jabbing his swords into its joints, to little more avail than slowing it down. Out of earshot, Zant had hissed an incantation, and though he hadn’t followed its words, Ghirahim knew the spell had been cast from the eerie chill that traveled to his every extremity. Piercing past the droning arcane hum from earlier, a screech and the flapping of wings prompted Ghirahim to get out of dodge as soon as he could. Once he had joined Zant’s side again, he could see a King Helmaroc, pecking the Gohma to bits.

They intended to slip past this distraction, but Lana wouldn't let them. Cyan lights broke past nearly every corner of the battlefield, massive shadows raining down from pillars of light. More and more monsters poured forth, pulled from corners of the past even Ghirahim could recognize. And though Zant made his best efforts by summoning beasts to their defense, Ghirahim yanked him out of focus before he could rip open his fourth portal. When he pulled back, the glove he’d covered Zant’s mouth with was smeared with blood.

Panting, wiping the thin streams of crimson that poured from his eyes and nostrils, Zant never took his eyes off the altar.

“This… This is incredible, Ghirahim,” he stammered, a mad grin on his face. “I can’t keep up.”

Ghirahim ducked behind him with a grin and ran through the first soldier who dared to approach. “Singing praises of our enemy now?”

Now, Zant drew his scimitar, hacking it into an ambushing Hyrulean in one clean swing. As Ghirahim faintly shivered with delight, Zant berated him. “Fool! Of course I do! That is the power I covet, that I deserve,” Zant snarled through his teeth, fending off soldiers by the dozen. His speech, his violence, equal in cold execution. “I was unflinchingly loyal to his cause, to him, and yet, Ganon kept everything to himself. Now that I have it all within my grasp… How can I not fawn over it?”

“You can save your fawning for when it’s actually within your hands, you lunatic,” pulled from his basking, Ghirahim bit back, spying trouble as the pair guarded each other's flanks. The monsters Zant couldn't keep up with were catching up. “And, for when we are not under the threat of these beasts! Collect yourself, and go!”

“No… No, not yet,” Zant yelled, flinching when an enemy blade bounced off his wards. “We are to mask ourselves in the chaos of these giants, and when we’ve kicked up enough dust… We will go straight to her.”

As if hearing of this plan, a last-ditch effort exploded from the north. The stone bridge connecting the Altar to the rest of the valley had collapsed.

Zant saw this and hardly batted an eye. Their troops, however, seemed far more alarmed. Bridge after bridge crumbled into the depths, some with their men still traversing, plummeting right along. The setback left their army with fewer and fewer routes to advance. Hyrulean and Blin numbers were almost even now, Ghirahim reckoned from their vantage point. And as their side was funneled back out through the remaining bridges, Ghirahim looked behind him.

Zant nodded. Taking a page out of the Hyruleans’ book, Ghirahim raised his fingers to the sky, and set loose a trail of diamond sparks. Strings of light whistled and twisted high, high up above, red and flashy among Lana’s still-bleeding portals. The reaction was almost immediate. Rushing forth from the hills, Blins cascaded onto the battlefield and rushed through the bridges still left intact. What was once intended for the escape of the invading forces, now simply funneled in more. Men were pushed off the bridges and trampled in the footfall, while a select few managed to die a dignified death amidst the senseless crowd.

Above them, the stars in the night sky seemed to flicker. A deluge of airborne demons rushed by them, undetected until crossing the threshold of the altar’s pale moonlit stone. Hyrulean soldiers were lifted off the ground, others eviscerated on the spot, all while a desperate few hacked and slashed with wild abandon in an attempt to defend themselves.

Chaos. Exactly what they were looking for. Another Gohma, almost fallen into the abyss, clambered back onto the cliff’s edge and made for the pair of commanders. Just as its pincer was about to bore into them, Zant grabbed onto Ghirahim’s wrist and pulled him into the shadows.

When they reappeared, Ghirahim looked around to find himself in the altar’s inner room, strewn with bookcases of which the contents were largely toppled. But before anything else caught his eye, there stood the Sorceress, hunched desperately before a scrying orb. She whipped around the second Zant’s transportation magic rustled behind her.

“Hello, Lana,” Zant said pleasantly. Lana glared back, placing one hand back on the crystal ball. The sight made Zant smile. “Oh, please. Do you think your precious Hyrule will be here in time? Who do you think they’ll send? A few little platoons? Clearly, they’ve already given you what they could afford. And those men are not holding out very well out there.”

His words were emphasized by the sounds of clashing outside. Soldiers yelling, screaming, the sound of arms hitting armor and lifeless bodies hitting the ground.

“This will take a minute, at most. Hold still, if you’d please.”

For a moment, Lana looked afraid, deathly so. But her courage gathered itself remarkably quickly, giving her the strength to turn around and shield her crystal ball behind herself. “ ‘Hold still’? Who do you think you are, you creep!?” she yelled. “How dare you come into this sanctuary and defile it, just as we worked so hard to recover it!”

Zant grinned at her, squinting his eyes the slightest bit. “That’s a funny thing to accuse me of, considering the dynamic here. Either way… Ghirahim, if you will.”

At once, Ghirahim launched himself at the Sorceress. The first slice of his sword she just barely managed to step back from, but not without drawing the slightest bit of blood from her collar. In response, Lana strengthened her wards – a shimmering layer of pale, iridescent blue flashed in view to cover her body. 

But the barrier would not save her from what was to come. As Lana became duly occupied with defending herself against the Sword Spirit’s merciless attacks, Zant began weaving his spell.

The first sentence was enough to make her flinch, but the second sent her into full-blown alarm. In her urgency, she ceased simply defending and instead attempted to push back against Ghirahim. She intended to break past him at all costs, and put an end to the words pouring from the Twilight King. Try as she might, though the whacks of thunder from her spellbook jittered Ghirahim down to the teeth, he would not let her gain even an inch on him. They were at a thorough standstill – one incapable of drawing blood, the other, finding a weakness but finding her enemy’s will too strong to overpower. All the while Zant kept chanting, and chanting, and chanting, the world around them not silenced, but rather, the three of them cast in a muffling cloak of darkness. But soon, Ghirahim would lose. Annihilation, his most precious weapon, failed him when he needed it most, and wouldn’t reward his wicked strikes with more than a nick past his opponent’s clothing. She truly was strong. Just a few more thundershocks and he would be brought to his knees, and with his Blade out of commission, Zant would not be able to defend himself against her.

He had to knock that grimoire out of her hand. The makeshift wards on her body protected her from the cutting edge of his sword, but the impact of his swings could still knock her off balance. 

Ghirahim didn't get the chance to just yet, though. Their sprawling army of demons found her little hideout. The lot of them crawled along the windows, claws dragging and fists pounding on the barriers. Were they to break through, the enemy commander would be overtaken in seconds.

Lana realized this too. She withdrew instantly, her grimoire snapped shut, and made for the only spot in the wall unoccupied by bookcases. She, of course, ran straight through. Had Ghirahim’s intuition not stopped him, he would have smacked face-first into it. One hand bracing against the stone barrier, he realized it would need a key phrase to grant him passage.

Or, as per Zant’s stroke of simple genius, simply blow the wall to smithereens. Powder-turned stone and pebbles blasting outward around him, Ghirahim burst through the rubble and sprinted after the first sight of cyan he could catch. Bouncing against the walls, masking her every direction in this endless maze, Lana recited her counter-incantation.

Behind him, Zant laughed at the challenge, weaving his spell longer and longer. Ahead of him, Lana’s rapid footsteps kept his prey drive red-hot. 

Run, run, but there’s no hiding from me. Along the floor, the thrum of Ghirahim’s core showed him the path the Sorceress had taken. He remembered these hallways perhaps better than she was aware of and, wagering a lucky guess at her meandering trajectory, he cut a few corners. He rammed solidly into her at the intersection. Just as he wanted, the grimoire went flying, and he placed himself between her and its landing spot.

Unfortunately for him, it didn’t render her powerless. But she did become weaker. The lightning she flung behind her as they resumed her chase was enough to hurt him, but not to slow him down. The little drops of blood he’d drawn that disappointed him before now worked as an irresistible lure, second to his expert dowsing. He could hear her breath, her heartbeat, and almost, every panicked thought as she tried to stall for enough time to think of a better plan than simply running and chanting with her heaving breath. Such was the power of that delectable fear! He had to have it. Closer, and closer, and closer he drew, his once graceful run now turning into a desperate, bestial sprint. She, the poor thing, was slowing, immortal in soul but human in guise. When even her last ditch effort, the casting of a lightning bolt point blank at his core, didn’t work, her desperation buckled her. Hands clawed, Ghirahim swiped for her.

At long last, he’d grabbed her, her arms locked in his elbows. Lana struggled fiercely, but no matter the power she borrowed, she couldn’t break free from steel of this caliber. How lucky she was, that his daggers couldn’t pierce her! Grappling fresh blood like this made him feel positively starved. 

Even then, he wouldn’t have been able to play for very long. Zant had carefully followed his blade, his every step haunted by the all-consuming echo of his voice. As that voice grew closer, the world became still around them. Colder. Twin breaths turned to foggy clouds as the pair of locked combatants panted, their eyes each glued on the hallway before them. Shadows poured around the corner, only to be drowned out by a pale blue light, hovering around the Twilight King like an aura. His eyes, normally golden, now carried that same ethereal hue. When he extended his hand, there was a cavity in his palm, the void of which made Ghirahim’s core spin just looking at it.

Lana struggled again, until she steeled herself. The incantations she’d failed to recite in their scuffle came back to the forefront of her mind, the first words passing her lips. Just one glance from Zant, and Ghirahim moved instinctually. He rushed his hand to her face, and stuck the point of his dagger against her tongue. Of course, none would think to place wards there. The Sorceress shrieked, but every movement of her head sliced deeper into her cheek, her lips, the inside of her mouth. Ghirahim shushing in her ear, she froze wide-eyed, her chest heaving up and down rapidly in breathing. Like a rabbit on a butchery table.

One more sentence and Lana began to writhe, groaning in pain. Zant stood before them, palm upturned. It was almost done – Ghirahim could feel it. It was practically in their hands. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the face hovering above them. All else disappeared. Not even the blood, that precious ambrosia that trickled from his dagger down his glove, could shake him from his mesmerization.

With those last words, the skies went dark. The rim of light once encircling Zant burst outward into shards, leaving only an endless dark that splattered across the walls like paint. It left them in a void; cold, and deafened, and unfeeling, just the three of them locked inside. Just the three of them, and the little golden triangle hovering between them. Lana wept in terror, in regret, in pain, while her two adversaries made no sound at all. For just a moment, childlike wonder sparkled in Zant’s eyes, before that little bit of innocent hope was throttled by an overwhelming flame of greed and vengeance. From having their treasure dance above his palm, he suddenly seized it, snatching it out of the air. 

With a deafening roar, like the sound of a mighty river rushing by overhead, the shadowy expanse around them imploded in on itself. Every inch of its fabric tore rapidly to one point: below Zant’s feet, sucked into his shadow. When the light returned to the hall again, there stood Zant, the same man as before.

The triforce now glowed on his palm.

But past that gently humming light, another sound caught their attention, now that the veil was lifted. War horns, far unlike theirs. Lana had stalled for enough time.

The second the both of them turned to the sound, Lana wrenched herself free. Though claws tore into her arms, and the dagger sliced through the corner of her mouth, she stumbled from Ghirahim’s grip and made for the light at the end of the hallway.

“Ghirahim-ili, how unlike you… Ah, well. I say let her run. She will be useless without this, anyhow,” he giggled, admiring the back of his hand.

But Ghirahim knew better. Eyes set on the desperately shambling woman, he aimed for her, hand outstretched, and snapped his fingers. A trio of daggers glistened in the light as they soared through the hallway, and thwacked into her back. Then he ripped back around, bound for his general in a steadfast march before the man could praise him – and it was a look of praise that colored his face – and snatched him by the wrist.

Yet Zant shook himself loose. His eyes blazed with unparalleled drive and fury. He glared down the still-stumbling Sorceress from afar, before clenching his fists. A throat-rending cackle ripped loose from him as his head was encased in shadows. Shrouded he was, then he was not, as particles of blackness burst outward to reveal a new sight.

Zant’s helmet. Once again perched on his shoulders, but entirely different. A wicked snarl was encased in the metal, and a finned collar encircled the reptilian face. At the peak of it all, a crown of horns declared him king. Now, Zant accepted Ghirahim’s so-hastily offered hand, and blinked the both of them outside the altar.

After just that split second, Ghirahim was jarred to find himself floating, high, high above the Valley, Zant’s fingers still lacing around his’. With a raise of his hand, and his triumphant, wet giggling still holding, he forced Lana’s portals to a close. One more wiggle of his fingers… that was all it took, and one by one, their troops disappeared from the battlefield.

Before Lana’s body could hit the ground, the two invaders were gone. Her efforts had been for naught. When the Hyrulean reinforcements finally crossed the foothills, the Valley was empty. 

[9lives2mics]

Nine Lives Two Mics (Caryl Podcast) | New Episode

🎙️The Ever-Changing Promo For “The Book of Carol”🎙️

We share our thoughts on the teasers, promos, and the overall marketing strategy for  “The Book of Carol”. Trigger warning: This episode gets very heavy so please be mindful of your mental health before tuning in.

Your feelings are valid, no matter what they are. If you’re excited for the show, we’re truly happy for you. If you’re anxious and on the fence, we see you and we get it. The common throughline of this spectrum is that we all love Caryl deeply & want them to have a beautiful & all-rounded story. We’re in this together (even if it feels like Thanksgiving dinner sometimes). Please remember to be kind to yourself & those who don’t share your opinions. We’ll be here if you want to chat, feel free to send us an ask.

(If you need mental health support, check out this resource) 

Spotify | Youtube 

(this episode is not spoiler-free)

[sgiandubh]

La transparence et l'obstacle/Transparency and the obstacle

And since Social Media seems to be the dish of the day...

Case in point:

OL S7 Part 1 promo ended sometime around July, right? Cut short by The Strikes and all that.

Never mind. The Chorus wrote the fanfic all by itself. FWIW. It has been a fascinating ride trying to make sense of all the manipulation, multiple webs of lies and thick curtain of smoke.

Meanwhile, what did we see?

S promoting his booze. But what else could he do? Honoring a pre-programmed contractual obligation in Kansas City immediately gave birth to an Endless Hullaballoo, where the most noisy voices were (as always) those who knew nothing at all. Legally, morally, culturally.

C promoting her outfits and make up. But what else could she do? Sometimes lending a hand to lifelong friends. Other times lurking like a ghost in the background of dinner pics that look like an Illuminati banquet, or something. #Silly fashion, nowadays - less is never more, when it comes to gourmet.

Out of the two, S is the louder, more colorful one. But when we draw a line on these last six months, do we know more about S or C's life than we ever did before?

Nope. Savant innuendo and trolling by particular bloggers do not count. Poorly crafted images of uxoriousness, either. It's been done before, with little long term success to the critical thinking crowd - those stupid Shippers, that inconvenient glitch in the matrix.

Her strange silence did not start yesterday, just because a thirsty, easy to bait & lure, amnesic crowd likes to believe so. It started way before the strikes and the promo, when she 'forgot' to congratulate S on his birthday and many bought into the ruse.

His OTT innuendo game did not start yesterday, just because his mommies and the listless fencers who 'worry' every single time lapped it like clotted cream. It started right after that botched paparazzi pic, when the fandom has been played about a dog being an Afghan and an Afghan being a dog, not unlike that silly Internet Dress Folly, not so long ago.

He is in full protective mode. She is just following the lead. Forget about windows and hotel rooms and pandas: that is mandatory white noise. Ultimately, their social media strategies are identical. And that, my friends, is important.

It is my strong belief that the more we are shown, the less we see.

On the 13th of August 1789, a long-forgotten French Jacobin (not Jacobite, quite the opposite of it!), Jean-Sylvain Bailly, who was then the mayor of Paris, uttered a prophetic phrase: 'la publicité est la sauvegarde du peuple'. Publicity is people's safeguard.

By 'publicity', Bailly meant transparency, not advertisement. A distinction S and C came to perfectly master, by now.

[petit-naldo]

Summary : A drunken kiss in the midst of Singaporean tequila madness was all it took for Charles and Carlos to throw their carefully crafted dynamics into chaos. Add to that the end of an exhausting season and the arrival of an unexpected promo event during the winter break, and the two drivers will have to buckle up for yet another bumpy road.

Chapters : 17 / 17 BUT thinking about a bonus chap....

Pairing : Charles Leclerc / Carlos Sainz + background Lando Norris / Oscar Piastri.

Word count (for now) : 74,470

Ratings : to be safe I'll say E even though it really depends on the chapter.

Chapter 1 : MEXICO

"Charrles." Carlos' deep voice reached his ears, and he felt a honey-like warmth flow into his chest

Chapter 2 : INTERLAGOS

" Do you have someone else in your mind?" Caught off guard, Charles could only mumble, "No... no, no."

Chapter 3 : VEGAS I : VEGAS BABY

"So, what do you say?" Carlos beamed, all pumped from his latest title. "Am I worthy of being your golf teacher now?"

Chapter 4 : VEGAS II : WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS STAYS IN VEGAS

"Come on, Carlos! Don't be a pussy! It's a bachata, teach him bachata!" Max's hoarse voice interjected as he passed them.

Chapter 5 : ABU DHABI

Carlos raised his eyebrow. Yielding to the nagging voice in his head about what Lando thought of him now, he teased with a smile,

"Is he spicy enough for your liking?"

Chapter 6 : IN THE AIR

"I like this song, it's about Monaco, no?" Carlos asked.

Chapter 7 : MARANELLO I : DAYDREAMING AT THE FACTORY

Carlos is struggling with his compartmentalization strategy.

Chapter 8 : MARANELLO II : THE FLAMINGO

"Have I done something wrong?" Carlos asked frankly. "You're acting strange."

Chapter 9 : MARANELLO III : JEALOUSY

Unable to hold back any longer, he raised fiery eyes and met Charles's uncertain gaze.

"I saw you leaving with that guy."

Chapter 10 : MONACO : UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL

"I'm in " Charles declared

Chapter 11 : DAKAR : CAMP LIFE DAY ONE

Charles pointed at Carlos

"There's no way I'm letting that loco drive me around in the desert!"

Chapter 12 : DAKAR : CAMP LIFE DAY TWO

"What about us?" Charles asked carefully.

Chapter 13 : DAKAR : CAMP LIFE DAY FOUR

Well played Carlos, you couldn't have picked a better time to confess

Chapter 14 : DAKAR : THE RACE DAY ONE

"Charles, dios mios, don't tell me we're lost already!"

Chapter 15 : DAKAR : THE RACE DAY TWO

"Carlos, what are you doing?" his father attacks without mincing words.

Chapter 16 : DAKAR : THE RACE DAY THREE

"So tell me. When did you start to feel that something was different between us? "

Chapter 17 : RIYADH

"Cahrlos, nene, do you trust me?"

[darcytaylor]

Honesty, I think L's current strategy is way past its expiration date. What's the point of keeping A hidden to this degree when all it does is drive people with no boundaries to try to probe into his life? She clearly wants them to be public. I get being stubborn, I get not wanting to give DM the satisfaction, but atp it's backfiring. I know he shouldn't have to manage that, but unfortunately it's part of being in a public profession. We're far enough removed from S3 promo for him to rip the bandaid off. People already hate on him as it is. A simple IG story with her would be enough to kill the speculation already. He's making things harder for himself than they need to be atp.

You make a good point, and I do think there could be benefits to Luke being open about his relationship with Antonia - if that’s even what it is. But since he hasn’t said anything outright, I’ll never claim that they’re dating or not. Maybe there’s a different dynamic at play here that doesn’t fit neatly into the 'dating' or 'not dating' boxes people want to put them in.

I think part of the issue is that we naturally want things to be cut and dry - it makes them easier to understand. But relationships, like most things in life, are complicated and nuanced. Maybe Luke doesn’t want to dive into those complexities publicly, and honestly, that’s fair.

Speaking from personal experience, not every relationship fits the mold people might expect, and it’s possible theirs doesn’t either. I think it’s okay to be curious, but at the end of the day, it’s his life, and he gets to decide how much of it he shares. Relationships aren’t always black and white, and I think that’s something we can all keep in mind.

[marveltrumpshate]

★ AUCTION WEEK INFO ★

We have less than 28 hours left of Auction Week, and bids are coming in fast. With the clock ticking down, we want to help bidders strategize for the final day.

If you can’t afford the auctions you want or you have a tight budget, here are three ways that you can still get or stay involved as a bidder:

Look at our golden needle auctions, many of which have affordable minimum bids. We have only 15 remaining, down from 39 in just two days. That’s amazing!

Use our "current bid: low to high" sorting feature on our Auction Listings page. You can access it by clicking the dropdown menu and narrow down your search even more by going through individual filter categories on that page. Doing this makes it easier to see auctions you're interested in that are within your budget and is extremely useful for smaller categories such as podfics and digital works.

Join a pod bid. For more information on how to start or get involved in a pod bid, click here. Many bidders have pooled their funds together to win a specific auction, and several creators have announced that they’re open to receiving pod bid requests for a variety of prompts.

If you haven’t done so already, come join our Discord server, where creators can promote their auctions and match with interested bidders and bidders can share ideas and check out auctions. Our Discord has been busy all week, and we know it’ll be a lot of (crazy) fun once we get into the final hours of bidding!

Forgot that you have plans during the last few hours of the auction? Enlist a proxy bidder!

Ask mutuals or friends who don’t mind helping you bid to bid on your behalf (keep in mind that the auction ends at 11:59:59 PM ET on October 26 (what time is that for me?). MTH mods will not proxy bid for anyone, but if you can’t find someone to help you, feel free to mention that you’re looking for a proxy bidder on our Discord server.

You can’t take back a bid once it’s placed and should you win the auction, you must donate the winning bid amount, so try to find someone you can trust as your proxy. Once you do, let your proxy know the highest amount you’re willing to bid on each auction.

To have someone bid on your behalf, you can use one of these methods:

Give your proxy your marveltrumpshate.com account login info, so they can bid under your name.

Have your proxy create their own account (e.g., “proxyforyournamehere”) to help you place bids.

Let your proxy bid on your behalf on their account.

Keep in mind that when you make an account, you'll get an email asking you to verify your account in order to access it. If you're making a new account for your proxy, you may wish to use your proxy’s email address instead of yours. This means the winner emails will go to your proxy, who'll need to forward them to you once the auction is over. You’ll then need to email us with your donation receipt and details on your proxy bid so that we’ll be able to put you in contact with your creator(s).

If your proxy already has an account and would rather use their own account to help you place bids, they must be very careful in keeping track of which bids they place for you and which bids are their own. Your proxy will need to forward winner emails to you if they use their own email, just like they would if they created a new account.

Good luck with bidding, everyone! Keep an eye on our countdown clock, figure out your bidding strategy, and be ready for the madness tomorrow. We hope you’ll win your favorite auctions!

____________________________________________

Read our daily update posts for more information:

Day 1 - Viewing Tumblr posts on mobile, using our auction watchlist feature, and changing your Discord DM settings

Day 2 - Bidder–creator matchmaking and group/pod bids

Day 3 - Commissioning gifts on a friend’s behalf (fanworks are great holiday gifts!)

Day 4 - Golden needle auctions

Day 5 - Creator auction promo tips

Auction spotlights:

Beta services, translation, and other fan labor

Craft or merch auctions

Digital, podfic, and vid auctions

Poly ships

Fanworks featuring POC

Fanworks featuring women

[louisisalarrie]

wow there is an insane amount of Larry articles now holy moly and even if some of their info is incorrect, well, it still brings attention to them.

to be fair, Louis could appease a lot of people by saying “yes, Harry and I dated very briefly during the early 1d days, but we didn’t go public with it and then broke up because of the pressure and I met me gf Eleanor” to literally:

1. not out all the stunts

2. somewhat out him and Harry as potentially still being queer

3. seeding a future coming out by “rekindling the romance” so it’s gently introduced prior to the GP as opposed to a denial

4. let antis and solos believe Larry isn’t real anymore so they don’t feel lied to

5. confirm larries’ beliefs

6. Receive public sympathy if the statement says “we were young and scared and it didn’t work out” or something along those lines

This strategy would make his life easier, his promo bigger, help with the fact people think Harry is queerbaiting if he’s actually seen as queer, make Louis not seem like a homophobe but a vulnerable real person, and would cover all bases.

Now, why would louis not want to do that? Well… there’s a couple of reasons, but I think the main ones are:

1. If they come out about it, he doesn’t want to lie. He doesn’t want to say he and Harry weren’t closeted and that they didn’t fight for their love, and not expose Simon and the industry executives for their awful behaviour

2. Harry and him are still together, they want to come out together, and they’re waiting for the right time (post stunts ending)

Now some of you may say “but… Louis doesn’t want Larry to take away from his career that he’s building, he wants to do it separate from that” and okay, fair point, but not after this denial. This proves 150% that his team, as a last resort, will bring up Larry to boost his promo. If he really was bothered by it, he wouldn’t bring it up. It wouldn’t connect them back together. And you wanna know something?

His denial would have had to be approved by Harry and his team.

Yep, this isn’t just Louis spouting a denial for promo off his own back. This is in collaboration with Harry’s team. With Harry’s fame and this linking them together in a way that will affect his fandom and bring him a large amount of publicity that he may not want, it needs to be approved by his team.

This isn’t just a random person claiming to have slept with Harry, it’s not a random person spouting some bullshit about Harry… his team don’t care about a lot of rumours. They let them slide because some of them just aren’t big enough or scandalous enough to care about, and it keeps him in the headlines. But the Larry thing goes waaaaay back. It makes people become larries and dig into it when this shit is online. It jeopardises Harry’s current stunt. It threatens to out him and a long line of massively important music industry professionals. It’s been an ongoing thing for like 13 years now.

Harry doesn’t comment on it, because he doesn’t need to. He doesn’t need more promo. He doesn’t want to jeopardise his image that hints that he’s queer. It doesn’t affect Louis’ image to that degree due to previous stunts and denials.

So… yeah.

Harry’s team approved the denial. Louis approved to be asked about it and released it as edited and pre recorded for promo as soon as he left LATAM. It’s rehearsed. Let’s push on and keep this all in mind.

[serendertothesquad]

Seren's Studies: Odd Squad UK -- "A Dicey Situation" Episode Followup, Part 1

Captain O origins episode! "Totally Odd Squad" Mk. II! Call it what you like, I'm just hoping this is good. After the hell that was "Mission O Possible", I like to be prepared. Almost anything could surpass that, really.

Let's dive in below the break! (Pun unintended.)

...It's another Tasha episode.

I can hear that stupid "oh no" TikTok song playing as I fucking type this. I'm not confident after "The Triangle Sisters". I'm praying to Don't-Fuck-This-Up-God.

Hey. Hey. You guys remember when Otis threw a fit because Rebecca was exploiting Odd Squad for moving services?

This is just as egregious and yet will go entirely undetected. You don't need two pseudo-government agents to pull up Google Maps and punch in the location of the nearest Aldi's, for God sakes.

I see this milk came from the same cow that the Town Baker's milk came from.

I'd go investigate that cow, really.

You guys also remember Otis giving therapy to a plant?

THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT THIS IS BUT IT'S MILK. And it's just as amusing here as it was there.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!"

Thank you, edutainment overlords, for this obligatory healthy eating message.

Asshole cereal box is making up lies for himself, methinks. Dude just tipped over on his own the second his owner picked up the milk pitcher.

hhhhheeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY THIS AIN'T MY SWAMPS 'N GATORS. WHERE'S MY SWAMPS 'N GATORS YOU CHUCKWADS.

...No but seriously what is this game and why does it look like Odd Squad Risk to me.

I remember when there was a brief shot of Oona failing at chess and Oprah telling her that's not how the game is played.

That was fun.

This is fun too, and nice to see, but it doesn't hit the same.

Good segue. Not as good as Oprah calling everyone out on their RPS strategies.

(You will see me make a lot of TOS cracks and references. I will not regret a single one of 'em.)

Hot damn, she can dim the lights with her mind! That's craaaaaaaaaaaazeeeeeeeeeeeeee-

So that would make her ship the Odd Squad Odd Squad.

Instead of Screw Steamer Odd Squad, or Steam Ship Odd Squad, both of which sound much better.

And are actually canon in the franchise.

(No, really. Go listen to the Squadcast. The S.S. Odd Squad is a 100% canon ship.)

Honestly, if you had told me about a year ago that that sailor in that promo picture SSE put out was a chef named Osgood, I'd have laughed at you.

RIP to the days when I thought that sailor was an assistant of Captain O's and not her first mate.

Ohhhh, a wavy flashback effect! Standard in a ton of shows, but Odd Squad has never really employed it as far as I'm aware. Nice to see they're going to effect basics!

Aside from that, wow that is...a tiny ship. Tinier than I was expecting. I was expecting something huge and not...y'know...a little BB thing.

I'm sorry, I just did an entire fuck-ass wheeze at her saying SHE KNEW OSGOOD SINCE NURSERY SCHOOL.

These two ARE FUCKING CHILDHOOD FRIENDS.

Genuinely fucking flabbergasted, because it's rare that we get childhood friends who were main characters in this franchise and joined Odd Squad together. Not even Olive and Otto can attest to that! Or Olympia and Otis!

Best bit in the entire episode so far bar nearly none.

I mean...on the plus side, at least he only has two mouths to feed.

That being said, I will once again raise the issue of there being couch cushions in a ship like that.

...Goldfish.

Huge-ass Goldfish.

You can't fool me.

They're Goldfish.

If there is one thing I utterly despise about Captain O as a character, it's the stupid euphemisms.

They're not amusing. They're not funny. I've heard better from other characters.

Okay, a shell phone is actually pretty clever. One point to Tasha, and don't make me revoke it as quickly as I did last time.

(Choosing to overlook the fact that there's an Admiral because...I mean...pretty standard sailor stuff. And me and other fans can work with the lore.)

Definitely not the intent, but I can't stop reading this line as utterly sarcastic since Captain O did a hard aversion off the "Newhart Phone Call" cliff.

"So this look isn't a fashion choice?"

Osgood, you poor Ohlm-like sonuvagun.

No, sir, actually those are holes. They got depth to 'em. Swiss cheese is not made with polka dots.

"See? You're a fashion trendsetter."

Ohhhhh it's like...the woman in "Double O Trouble"...but 's...fuckin' polka dots...

Great, I hate it, thanks.

*squints*

*more*

*even more*

...Bitch that is a cluster of fucking trees. That is not an island. Now how and why would you spend pounds on a fucking CLUSTER OF TRE-

THIS IS HOW THEY CHOOSE TO REMIND US THAT ORLI AND OZZIE ARE STILL HERE?????? WITH THE OBLIGATORY MATH LESSON?!?!?!?!?!?

Oh piss ALL the fuckin' way off.

If this is gonna have a lesson at the end, like in "The Weight of the World Depends on Orla", I'm going to lose my fuckin' mind.

Because, for all that Season 3 sucks, that episode was actually pretty solid.

it was just her and osgood

this guy shows up

not even the two canon characters from the odd squadcast they could've used

...I get it. You need someone to steer the ship. Fine. But for the love of God, just include the one driving the boat in your roll call!

I'm...I'm so tired. We are halfway into this episode. I am tired.

I honestly can't be bothered to ask why this woman has a rotary phone and how the fuck it can get service out here where there would, in most other instances, be no phone lines. Or electricity. OR FUCKING SPEAKERPHONE.

I do like the pirate getup Dottie here has going on, though.

Well, the last time a villain alleged to not have a pattern...they had a pattern.

I don't expect Dottie to be much different in that regard.

ohhhhhh oodelallyoohdelally it's the chekhov's gun wheeeeeeeeeeeeee-

She spun in the chair for all of time, bored out of her wits.

(On to Part 2!)