#because without a character limit its like ugh

[imunbreakabledude]

so i DID still have the list saved. of course. lmao the date on this... and... oh boy there were some other silly notes around this point in my archive...

anyways i pretty much stand by these rankings still. note that these are based in CANON. you all know i ship maeveannie. i think she could learn. but the way annie describes eating pussy in the herogasm episode, that is not a woman who is comfortable with it let alone good at it. that's a woman who hasn't even been eaten out properly herself (hence hughie's ranking).

last reblog... that poll blog reminds me of my scientific ranking of The Boys characters by how good they are at eating pussy. ... been so long i theoretically could update it with s4 and gen v characters

[pagesofkenna]

also, you know, not to be better-than-thou or anything, but i kind of... feel weird talking about the Zelda series with people for whom these games aren't Important

not saying these games have to be Important to anyone but I have a handful of friends who've basically only played BOTW, and I grew up with this series. this is like fundamental, shaping-my-personality level media. just the first few hours of TotK have me emotional for reasons I can trace all the way back to Zelda 1. this is me connecting to something that is like core to my identity

and I'm happy Zelda is mainstream popular (because the latest titles have been SO GOOD!) now but. when I wanna talk about Zelda I want to talk about ALL of it, not just the latest popular titles. it's weird talking to people who've only played one or two games when I have centuries worth of this world's lore ingrained in my bones. like I'm glad you had fun messing around, but this is my home and I can't really relate to it like that

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles - Stealing the Plot for Drama || Jamil Viper

The book you've been looking forward to turns out to be a piece of crap, and you have the bad luck of getting pulled into it as the villainess. So you decide to steal the main character's show, just for sport.

Series Masterlist

It’s your birthday, and you’re over the moon. You’ve been frugal, cutting out fancy coffee and takeout for weeks, all to splurge on this one, glorious, limited-edition novel from your favorite author. The packaging is pristine, the book jacket glimmering like a beacon of literary greatness. Today is the day. You’ve built this moment up for weeks—you’re practically vibrating as you sign for the delivery.

You tear into the package like it’s Christmas morning, clutching the book to your chest, grinning ear to ear. You settle in with a cup of tea, your coziest blanket, and crack open the book, fully expecting your soul to ascend to a higher plane of literary enlightenment.

It takes precisely three pages for your entire existence to collapse. This is bad. So bad, you can feel your spirit shriveling. Your entire life is a lie.

The book is like a train wreck—every sentence is a mangled piece of steel, but you can’t look away. Tears start forming in your eyes, not from emotional depth, but from sheer despair. It’s like the author forgot how to write in between winning their last award and releasing this... dumpster fire of a novel. But you’re not a quitter. You’ve made it this far—you’re not going down without a fight.

You turn the page with trembling hands, determined to push through.

The plot is standard—heroine is a saintess (yawn), love interest is the Duke of the North (ugh, of course), and the second male lead is the Prince (because originality is apparently dead). But then the villainess shows up. Finally, some promise. You grip the book a little tighter—maybe this will be it! The saving grace! The villainess is the queen of high society, beloved and powerful, absolute girlboss vibes. She runs everything with an iron fist and sharp wit, but then…

Then it happens.

The heroine’s hair comes loose. The villainess, in a rare moment of kindness, gently points out that her hair is falling out of its bun. And what happens? Does she get thanked for her thoughtfulness? No. No. The heroine goes, “You must be jealous of me,” and everyone agrees.

What. The. Hell.

You blink once, then twice. Is this…is this supposed to be a serious plot point? The villainess, this badass social queen, gets ostracized for suggesting a quick touch-up? Is this a joke? You flip back a few pages. Surely, there’s a mistake. Maybe you missed something. You didn’t miss anything. This book missed you with anything resembling logic.

So now, this powerful woman, once the queen of high society, is branded as jealous and bitter. She’s exiled from everything she’s ever known, her entire life crumbling because the heroine’s fragile ego couldn’t handle a little advice. And she’s not even the worst part. No, because guess what?

The only person who stays with her through it all? Her fiancé, Jamil Viper. Jamil, a baron she helped rise to the position of Duke, the man she loved, is by her side while everyone else abandons her. The romance potential is there. It’s right there. You’re practically shaking the book at this point.

And what does the author do with this beautiful setup? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The villainess, broken and misunderstood, alienates herself from Jamil. She pushes him away. And then—just to really twist the knife—she dies alone.

You drop the book onto your lap, staring at the ceiling. Infinite romance potential, wasted. You can feel your soul leaving your body. Jamil could’ve saved her. They could’ve had it all. But no. She dies alone, unloved, in the most tragic yet pointless way possible.

And that’s when it happens.

Something absurd. Something so stupid, it feels like divine punishment for buying this book. Maybe it's the way your body tenses in sheer disbelief at the plot; maybe the universe decides to play its cruel hand, but you feel a sharp pain in your chest.

Suddenly, the room spins, and your vision goes black. As the world fades around you, your final thought isn’t about your family, your friends, or the countless dreams you had for the future. No.

Your last thought is:

“Really??? On my goddamn birthday?”

And then, you die.

You wake up, stretch, and feel… odd. You glance at your hands and freeze. Your nails aren’t chipped? Your cuticles are trimmed? In this economy? You sniff the air. Lavender? Something’s very wrong here. You sit up and take in your surroundings. Ornate tapestries, a bed so massive it could host a small nation, and a freaking chandelier.

Oh no.

First thought: Have I been kidnapped? But hold up—what kind of kidnapper does their victim’s manicure? You wave your polished hand around like it's suddenly sprouted five extra fingers. This is definitely not normal.

And then your gaze lands on the giant, gilded mirror at the side of the room. You stumble towards it, ready to face the worst, and when you see your reflection, the realization knocks the wind right out of you.

“Fuck my life… I’m the villainess.”

Panic mode: activated. But then you pause, staring at your impossibly gorgeous reflection. No need to lose your shit just yet. You've read enough of these novel-turned-isekai tales to know the drill. It’s bad, yes, but it could be worse.

You’re not the heroine, which means less plot armor, but you are rich. Villainess rich. The kind of rich where you don’t even know how much a loaf of bread costs anymore. There’s power in that, right?

Alright, you just need to avoid the male leads like they have the dragon pox or something equally contagious and unattractive. If they even sneeze in your direction, you’re running faster than a Black Friday shopper in a sale.

Best course of action? Stick to your fiancé, Jamil Viper. He clearly liked the original villainess in the book, and you’re betting you can use that connection to survive this ridiculous plot.

Oh, and because this novel’s plotline literally killed you, you’re taking the queen of high society title back. Out of spite. It’s petty, but who cares? You're gonna be shady, throw aristocratic shade like you’re handing out party favors, and maybe casually humiliate the heroine for fun. She can't be that saintly.

But before anything else? Shopping.

You are now rich in a fantasy world, and you are not going to waste this opportunity. First order of business? Find a dress so stunning it could make a commoner drop dead on the spot. The kind of outfit that makes peasants weep and enemies tremble.

As you stride to the wardrobe, you can't help but feel a little smug. Sure, you're the villainess, but damn, you're gonna be a well-dressed one.

Your first shopping spree as a villainess. And not just that—there are maids! You stare at them wide-eyed as they begin dressing you in silks and satins, and you can’t help but think, “Holy shit, I have maids now.”

They fuss over you with a precision that can only be described as obsessive, tieing ribbons, adjusting jewelry, and brushing your hair like it’s a rare silk. You check yourself in the mirror, and honestly? Damn. The heroine's got nothing on you.

You twirl, and every inch of you screams hot and dangerous. It's like the universe is apologizing for killing you off with that god-awful book by giving you this absolute glow-up. You’re feeling unstoppable, like you could bench-press societal expectations and then strut away in heels.

But then your butler approaches, bowing as if you’re some untouchable deity. “My Lady, your fiancé, Lord Jamil Viper, has arrived to see you.”

Wait, what? Jamil is here? THE Jamil?? The only person with an ounce of brain cells in that trash fire of a novel? The one man who actually made sense? Please let him be hot.

You take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself. God, I hope he looks exactly like he was described.

When the doors open, you nearly pass out on the spot. Correction. He’s hotter. Infinitely hotter. If Jamil Viper was a fire hazard in the book, in person, he’s a full-on inferno. You’re almost thankful you died just so you could see him. He greets you, and his voice? Sexier than advertised. You’ve hit the isekai jackpot.

Without a second thought, you grin, loop your arm through his, and drag him toward the carriage. You’re already imagining the two of you showing up to the next ball in matching outfits, causing hearts to break and jaws to drop. Jamil is a little confused by your sudden enthusiasm, but like a champ, he just goes along with it.

As the carriage rolls down the cobbled streets, you casually drop, “By the way, I’m done moping about being ostracized by high society. I want revenge on the heroine.”

His eyes darken, and there’s an unmistakable gleam in them. He leans back, smirking. “Good. I hate the Prince anyway. The number of problems he caused me while I was trying to rise through the ranks? I’d love nothing more than to ruin them both.”

And you? You’re in. Oh, you’re so in. Why not? Why not when Jamil Viper looks so attractive while plotting the downfall of others?

He pauses his scheming for just a second, looking at you with a rare softness. “Thank you… for recognizing my talents. I wouldn’t have had the chance to even think about insulting a prince if you weren’t by my side.”

Your heart does a little flip, and you take his hand in yours, a silent promise forming in your mind. You’re going to make the original villainess proud. You’re going to destroy the heroine.

For what this book did.

And also because, well… revenge is sexy when Jamil Viper’s involved.

You both stride into the store, ready to make a statement. But, of course, because the universe is a petty comedian, there she is—the heroine, acting like she’s never seen a price tag before. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly accept such an extravagant gift!” she gushes loudly enough for the entire store to hear.

Meanwhile, the Duke—Mr. "I-have-no-emotions"—is doing his signature act: standing there, looking aloof, but you can tell he’s mentally calculating how impressed everyone is supposed to be.

Jamil doesn’t even need to speak. You both share a glance, a silent conversation filled with mutual disdain. "These people suck." It's not even a question. It's a fact.

“I’ll take everything here,” you say suddenly, your voice loud enough to cut through the heroine’s overly sweet prattling. The shopkeeper’s eyes widen as they hurriedly approach, unsure if they heard you correctly.

“Everything?” they stammer.

You nod casually, like buying an entire store’s worth of clothing is a daily occurrence. “Yes, everything.”

From the corner of your eye, you can see the Duke’s facade slip for just a moment—his cold mask cracking ever so slightly as he glances at you. The heroine looks like she’s about to choke on her own words. You flash them a bright, borderline condescending smile. "Oh, I hope I didn’t interrupt something. You were saying?"

Jamil steps closer, his hand resting on the small of your back as he coolly adds, “Also, we’d like matching outfits. Something… striking.” His tone is as indifferent as ever, but you can feel the smug satisfaction radiating off him.

The heroine looks utterly flustered, her hands fidgeting as she glances between you and the Duke, who is doing his best to act unbothered. But you can tell he’s silently fuming, his pride taking a serious hit.

Jamil leans in slightly, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “A power couple move? Bold. I approve.”

You grin. “I thought we’d show them how it’s really done.”

A short while later, you and Jamil emerge from the dressing rooms in outfits that would make gods weep with envy. You glance at yourselves in the mirror, and wow. You two don’t just look good—you look devastatingly unstoppable. The kind of couple people would kill to look like in their wildest dreams.

The heroine looks on with wide eyes, clearly trying to mask her jealousy, while the Duke’s cold expression cracks further, his irritation almost palpable. He probably thought he was the only one who could pull off the whole “I’m-rich-and-powerful” vibe. Sorry, buddy. You’re just not in the same league.

Jamil gives you a rare, genuine smile, one that’s laced with quiet triumph. “Not bad,” he says casually, though his eyes linger on you a moment longer than necessary.

As you step out of the store—victory sealed—you take Jamil’s hand without thinking, your mind already moving on to your next move. “Now,” you say, eyes focused on the road ahead, “about that revenge plan. I’m thinking we start by—”

But as you plot and scheme, you don’t notice that Jamil isn’t looking at the road. His gaze is on you—quiet, intense, and filled with something deeper.

"Whatever it is," he murmurs, "I'm in."

Power couple goals, indeed.

The ball is here, and, like any self-respecting villainess, you’re not about to let the opportunity for chaos slip by. If you’re going to be stuck in the plot of a novel, might as well make it entertaining, right?

As your maids fuss over your dress, they spill some of the hottest gossip yet. Apparently, the prince? The one who’s always preening like a peacock and acting like he’s too good for everyone?

Yeah, he got caught trying to serenade his tutor’s cat—and failed. He’s tone-deaf, and worse, the tutor is furious because the cat’s been hiding in her curtains for days, traumatized. You nearly choke on air.

“Oh, this is going to be a biblical shitstorm,” you murmur, your eyes practically sparkling as you imagine the carnage that’s about to go down tonight.

By the time you meet Jamil outside, you’re practically vibrating with excitement. And speaking of Jamil—holy hell. He’s standing by the carriage in a sleek, dark suit, looking all brooding and mysterious like he was custom-made to steal hearts.

"Wow," you say, openly staring at him. "You’re killing me right now. How are you real?"

Jamil shifts, tugging at his collar like he’s trying to downplay how good he looks. “Stop,” he mutters, his face ever-so-slightly flushed, but the tiny smile tugging at his lips gives him away.

“No, seriously,” you press, circling him with an exaggerated critical eye. “Is this what ‘stunning’ looks like in person? I need to know because I feel like I’m about to pass out.”

“You’re impossible.” He shakes his head but doesn’t make eye contact, probably because he knows he’ll crack. But he’s smiling, and that’s all the confirmation you need.

When you arrive at the ballroom, it doesn’t take long before you spot Kalim. He’s practically bouncing with excitement, waving as if you weren’t already heading his way.

"You guys look amazing!" he cheers, pulling both of you into a hug before you can protest. He’s so enthusiastic, you almost forget you have a mission. Almost.

You lower your voice conspiratorially. "Kalim, did you hear about the prince?"

He blinks. “No? What happened?”

Jamil side-eyes you like he knows exactly where this is going, but he doesn’t stop you. He’s in on this. “Well, apparently, our dear prince has been… spending some quality time trying to serenade his tutor’s cat.”

There’s a pause, then Kalim’s eyes widen in shock. “WAIT, REALLY?”

You and Jamil barely manage to suppress your laughter. Kalim just broadcasted that to half the ballroom. Mission success.

From there, you and Jamil strategically split up to mingle with the nobles, making sure the gossip spreads like wildfire. Every time someone asks, you pretend to hesitate, then whisper it to them like it’s the juiciest secret in the world. By the time the prince arrives, the entire ballroom is buzzing with whispers.

You grab two drinks and take your spot in a corner where you have the perfect view of the incoming storm. Jamil joins you, leaning casually against the wall, but you can see the amusement in his eyes. “I’d say we did well,” he says softly, as you hand him one of the drinks.

“Too well,” you say, grinning wickedly. “I can’t wait to see how this plays out.”

The prince enters, completely oblivious to the fact that everyone is staring at him like he just walked in with toilet paper stuck to his shoe. The imperial family follows behind him, sensing that something is off, but they keep up appearances, declaring the ball open.

Then, the dancing begins. And oh, the rejection. The prince approaches lady after lady, only to be turned down one by one, each with some flimsy excuse. You’re cackling into your drink at this point, nearly spilling it as you watch the absolute carnage unfold.

And then—oh, this is the best part—the heroine finally arrives, blissfully unaware of the prince’s latest scandal. She’s practically glowing as the prince, desperate and clearly not understanding the situation, asks her to dance. She accepts with a delighted smile, preening at all the attention she thinks they’re getting.

The whispers intensify.

Jamil watches, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "I’m impressed," he murmurs. "That spread faster than I expected."

"Never underestimate the power of pettiness," you reply, clinking your glasses together.

Across the room, the king’s aide is whispering something to him, and the poor man looks like he’s just aged ten years. He shoots a glance at the prince and then at the heroine, his expression screaming “I can’t believe I have to deal with this.”

Then comes the final nail in the coffin. After the dance, a group of younger noblewomen approaches the heroine, and she’s clearly expecting them to fawn over her for dancing with the prince. But instead, they absolutely rip into her. “How could you dance with him after what he did?” one of them demands, while another makes a snide comment about the cat.

The heroine, bless her heart, has no idea what they’re talking about and stumbles over her words, trying to defend herself. But she just makes it worse. Within minutes, she’s in tears, running from the ballroom in a dramatic scene worthy of an award.

The Duke—her Duke—chases after her, looking like he’s reconsidering all his life choices.

You’re laughing so hard now that you’re practically leaning on Jamil for support. "This is better than I could’ve ever hoped for," you gasp, wiping away a tear.

Jamil chuckles softly, his gaze focused entirely on you. “Glad you’re having fun.”

“Oh, I’m having the time of my life,” you reply between giggles, clutching his arm. "But seriously, this is gold!"

Jamil smiles, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he watches you. "Whatever you want to do, I’m in." His voice is quiet, but there’s a sincerity in it that makes your heart skip a beat.

And you know, with him by your side, this is only the beginning.

The quiet clatter of quills and the shuffle of paper fill the room as you and Jamil work side by side. It's supposed to be a normal afternoon—just the two of you getting through the absolutely thrilling task of making plans to merge your estates after your marriage.

Riveting stuff. But there’s a certain coziness to it, like you’ve finally settled into this life together. A faint smile tugs at your lips as you glance at Jamil, whose attention is currently fixed on a particularly dense contract.

He glances up, noticing your stare. “Do you want some tea?” he asks casually, already reaching for the bell to summon the butler.

You nod, and in moments, the butler arrives, bowing politely before leaving to retrieve the tea. But as the tray comes in, Jamil pauses, scanning the selection like he’s some kind of beverage connoisseur. He frowns—frowns—and turns to the butler. “Get the other blend. The one she likes."

The butler stutters for a second, then hurries off to fix the apparent blasphemy of tea serving. You’re too amused to even process how sweet the whole thing is.

“Did you really just send him back to get another blend?”

Jamil shrugs, not meeting your eyes, focused instead on stirring the exact amount of sugar and milk you always put in your cup. “You prefer it this way,” he says, his tone nonchalant, but there’s a softness to his expression.

And you’re just sitting there, heart doing weird flips because—he noticed. He’s been watching you, memorizing the tiny details like how you take your tea. Your chest warms as you realize just how deeply he pays attention to you, even in the most mundane things.

“You’re so—” you start, but then you stop yourself, realizing you’re dangerously close to getting all gooey and sappy. “Ridiculous. You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

He shoots you a deadpan look, but the corners of his lips twitch upward. “You’re welcome.”

You laugh, sipping the tea he prepared exactly how you like it, the moment stretching out in peaceful harmony. That is until—

THUD.

You nearly spill your tea as Jamil suddenly launches himself away from his desk, eyes wide in utter horror, looking as though someone just told him he’s been forced to join a Kalim-led dance troupe.

“What—what happened?” you ask, a little alarmed.

He doesn’t answer, instead standing stiffly a good five feet from his chair, eyes fixated on something on the floor. You glance over, curious, and there it is—a massive spider, just chilling on his desk like it’s there to collect taxes.

You stare. He stares. The spider doesn’t move, but the tension in the room could cut steel.

"That thing could eat me," Jamil mutters under his breath, still rooted to the spot like a cat who just saw a cucumber.

You take a deep breath, rolling up your sleeves with all the confidence of someone who has faced worse, like nobles who talk about land taxes at dinner parties. “Alright, let’s do this,” you mumble to yourself.

Grabbing a piece of paper, you march toward the eight-legged horror with all the grace of someone about to tackle a dragon. There’s no elegance, no finesse. You scoop up the spider—your hands a bit shaky—and march over to the window, tossing it outside with a not-so-dignified “Go in peace, demon.”

There’s a beat of silence as you wipe your brow, feeling like you’ve just saved the world. When you turn around, Jamil is staring at you like you’ve just descended from the heavens, all in slow motion, with angelic choir music playing in the background.

“What?” you ask, still catching your breath.

“I was going to handle it,” he says, but the way his voice wavers betrays the fact that he absolutely was not. He glances away, still avoiding the spot where the spider used to be.

You raise an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure you were. I bet you were gonna make friends with it too.”

He opens his mouth to argue but then just chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re something else.”

You walk over and bump his shoulder lightly. “And you’re lucky to have me. Spider exterminator extraordinaire.”

Jamil finally lets out a real laugh, the sound filling the room in a way that feels warm and right. When you both settle back into your paperwork, there’s an undeniable sense of something more growing between you, a feeling that neither of you says out loud, but is there nonetheless.

You look over at him again, your heart feeling too big for your chest. He meets your gaze and smiles, the unspoken affection hanging between you like a comfortable silence. Whatever’s coming next in your future, you know one thing for sure—there’s no one you’d rather handle paperwork (or spiders) with than him.

It was a fine day for chaos, and you had a brilliant, absolutely ridiculous idea: a dance competition. The heroine was boasting loudly again, this time about her “dazzling” ballroom skills, fluttering around like a pigeon trying to impress the Duke. You leaned over to Jamil, raising a brow.

“I bet I can make her regret that,” you whispered, eyes gleaming with mischief.

Jamil sighed, eyes flicking over to the heroine, who was twirling like she was the queen of the ball already. “You really want to stir this up?” he asked, his voice dripping with his usual calm exasperation.

“Absolutely. It’ll be hilarious,” you said with a grin. “Just trust me.”

“Those are usually your most dangerous words,” he muttered, but the little twitch at the corner of his lips told you he was more than ready to see how this would play out.

You sauntered up to the heroine, who was mid-spin, nearly knocking over a servant carrying a tray of wine glasses. “Oh my, such grace!” you exclaimed, voice layered with just the right amount of false admiration. “You must be the best dancer here. How about we make it a little more interesting?”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, clearly sensing a trap but too vain to back down. “What are you proposing?” she asked, puffing up like a puffin in a tutu.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh, just a little friendly dance-off. You, me, the floor. We’ll let the crowd decide who’s the real star of the ball.”

The Duke, standing behind her, snorted, clearly thinking there was no way his precious heroine could lose. You could practically hear his thoughts: What could go wrong?

Jamil, now standing at the edge of the growing crowd, looked at you with an expression that screamed Why are you like this? You shot him a quick wink.

The heroine smiled smugly, already envisioning her inevitable triumph. “Fine,” she declared, loud enough for the entire ballroom to hear. “But don’t cry when you lose.”

Oh, sweetheart, you thought, grinning like a Cheshire cat. You have no idea what’s coming.

The music swelled. The crowd parted, forming a perfect circle around the two of you. The heroine began her routine, performing a series of twirls and steps that were technically fine but lacked any real flair. She was all stiff arms and forced elegance, like a bird trying to pretend it was an elegant swan but failing spectacularly.

“Wow, she’s… uh, something,” you heard Jamil mutter from the sidelines, barely able to contain his laughter.

When it was your turn, you decided to dial it up to eleven. You started off slow, a simple waltz that quickly escalated into an absurd series of moves that defied both logic and physics.

At one point, you grabbed a nearby tablecloth, twirling it like a cape as if you were part ballroom dancer, part magician. The crowd was gasping and laughing all at once. You even threw in a couple of exaggerated backflips—just for dramatic effect, of course.

Jamil, still trying to remain composed, was leaning against a pillar, shaking his head with a mix of pride and disbelief. “This is insane,” he muttered, but you caught the faintest smile playing at his lips. He was definitely entertained.

The finale? You did a sliding split across the marble floor, popping up dramatically at the end to a round of thunderous applause. The heroine, meanwhile, looked like she had swallowed a lemon. Her face was pale, and her jaw had dropped halfway through your performance and never quite recovered.

“Not bad for a warm-up,” you said casually, dusting off your sleeves. “Want to go again?”

The heroine stammered something unintelligible, while the Duke shot you both a venomous glare. You, however, were far too busy basking in the crowd’s cheers to care.

Jamil approached, his expression unreadable as he handed you a glass of wine. “You’re unbelievable,” he said, though there was a mirth in his voice that wasn’t there before.

“I know,” you replied with a smirk, taking the glass from him. “But you love it.”

He let out a small, reluctant chuckle. “Unfortunately.”

As you took a sip, the heroine stormed off, dragging the Duke behind her, muttering something about “cheating” and “unfair advantages.” You couldn’t help but laugh.

“You realize you’ve just made yourself the villain of the entire evening, right?” Jamil remarked, glancing around at the nobles, who were still talking animatedly about your performance.

“Good,” you replied, a glint of mischief in your eyes. “Villains always have more fun.”

Jamil raised an eyebrow. “And what are you planning to do next?”

You gave him a sly smile. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll challenge her to a sword fight next?”

Jamil’s eyes widened. “Please don’t.”

You just laughed, leaning into him. “Relax. I’m kidding. Mostly.”

He sighed but didn’t push you away, clearly resigned to whatever madness you had planned next. As the two of you walked away from the scene, hand-in-hand, the nobles whispered behind you, wondering just how deep your relationship ran, how formidable of a pair you truly were.

But all Jamil cared about in that moment was that you were smiling beside him, radiating with confidence and joy. He didn’t care if the heroine hated you or if the Duke was sulking somewhere in the corner. As long as he had you, the rest of the world could fall into chaos.

And honestly, with you around, it probably would.

You gave Jamil a quick glance, noticing the soft, adoring look in his eyes, and nudged him playfully. “Hey, stop looking at me like I’m your entire world.”

“Too late,” he shot back, the smallest smile on his lips.

“Ugh,” you groaned dramatically, but the blush on your cheeks betrayed you. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he added, leaning in just a little closer, “you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, taking his hand. “Let’s go cause more trouble.”

The plan had been perfectly crafted. You and Jamil had spent hours scheming, laughing at the thought of humiliating the Duke during the archery and horseback competition.

Your excitement grew with every passing minute as you imagined his arrogant face faltering. But when the Duke not only kept his composure but nailed each target while galloping on horseback, you felt your competitive spirit surge.

There was no way you were going to let him win. Not today.

So, of course, you went all in—because why wouldn’t you? Leaning into your impulsive nature, you urged your horse into a full-speed sprint, adrenaline surging through your veins.

And then, because you’re apparently half-crazy, you decided standing on your saddle while your horse bolted forward would be the best course of action.

The world slowed as you drew your bow, the wind whipping through your hair. You could hear the crowd’s gasps, see the Duke's smug expression turning into something more surprised, and feel Jamil's tense gaze on you. In that moment, you released the arrow.

Bullseye.

The crowd erupted into shock and awe, but you were too busy grinning like a complete idiot to care. You dismounted with all the grace of someone who just pulled off a dangerous trick, your steps light as you practically skipped over to Jamil.

"Did you see that?" you beamed, heart still racing. "I totally nailed it—"

But instead of matching your excitement, Jamil’s expression was stormy. His usually composed features were twisted in a way you hadn’t seen before—part fear, part anger, and all worry. Without warning, he grabbed your shoulders, his fingers digging in just a little too tight.

"What the hell were you thinking?” His voice was sharp, laced with panic. “Are you out of your mind? You could’ve gotten hurt, or worse!”

You blinked, surprised. “I… I was trying to win?"

“Trying to win?! You were trying to break your neck!” His grip tightened as he almost shook you, frustration evident in every word. “That wasn’t worth it. Nothing is worth risking your life like that!”

It dawned on you then that he wasn’t just mad—he was terrified. You reached up slowly, cupping his face with both hands, and his expression softened, though the storm in his eyes didn’t fully dissipate.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, the wind knocked out of you by just how much he cared. “I got carried away. But hey—” You grinned a little, trying to lighten the mood. “I looked cool, right?”

Jamil groaned, exasperated, but the corners of his mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though his grip on your shoulders relaxed. His forehead dropped against yours, and for a moment, the world around you melted away. It was just the two of you, breathing the same air, sharing the same space.

“I know,” you whispered back, closing your eyes. “But you love me for it.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, his hands slid down to your arms, his touch lingering as if grounding himself after the scare. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, his breath steadying as he leaned into you. It was such a sweet, unspoken moment, and you felt your heart swell.

All around you, whispers started to spread like wildfire among the nobles.

"Oh, they're perfect together."

“They’re like something out of a romance novel.”

Meanwhile, the Duke—who had watched the whole display—stood fuming, while the heroine, eyes narrowed, looked like she was seconds away from throwing a tantrum. But you didn’t care. All you cared about was the way Jamil was holding onto you, as if letting go wasn’t an option.

“Let’s go,” Jamil finally whispered, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His gaze was softer now, more relaxed, though still tinged with concern. “No more dangerous tricks. Promise me.”

You smiled softly and nodded. “No more. I promise.”

He huffed, clearly not entirely convinced, but he let it go. You leaned against him for a moment, basking in the warmth of his presence, completely oblivious to the fact that half the noble court was watching the two of you with admiration—or that the other half was stewing in jealousy.

As you both walked away, hand in hand, it was clear that whatever plan you and Jamil had originally devised, the real victory was this: him, you, and the world falling away as the two of you found something far more precious than winning a competition.

The nobleman’s sneer was so potent you could practically taste it in the air. “Ah, yes,” he drawled, looking down his nose at Jamil. “Nouveau riche, how quaint. No matter how much money you accumulate, you’ll never have the refinement or bloodline of true nobility.”

Jamil stood there, bored as ever, giving the man about as much attention as one would to a pesky fly. But you? You were vibrating with the sheer intensity of your rage. And then you heard it—her.

The heroine chimed in, her voice drenched in faux sincerity. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it? The Duke has been managing the North so well—keeping everything running smoothly for years. Not everyone has the skills required for such a delicate task.”

Your eye twitched. Oh no. Oh no.

Jamil had been single-handedly keeping the kingdom’s economy afloat, using his brilliance to ensure food and resources flowed into the North during the harsh winters. He had done more in the span of a few years than these fools had done in their entire blood-soaked lineages. And this… this… buffoon had the nerve to look down on him?

The Duke, sensing the incoming storm, began discreetly tugging at the heroine’s sleeve, but she was as oblivious as ever. The prince, bless his spineless little heart, looked like he was ready to faint from second-hand embarrassment.

And that was your breaking point.

You stepped forward, a smile that could only be described as a harbinger of doom plastered across your face. “Oh, dear,” you cooed, your voice as sweet as poison. “Did I hear you correctly? You think the Duke is managing the North?”

The heroine blinked, clearly not catching the danger. “Well, of course! He’s—”

“Managing to exist in the North without Jamil’s trade routes, maybe,” you interrupted sharply, turning your gaze to the Duke, who now looked like he wanted to crawl into the nearest hole. “You should be on your knees, thanking Jamil for saving your people from starvation every winter. But no, please, continue on about how ‘delicate’ your situation is. Maybe you’ll convince yourself one day.”

“How dare you,” you snapped, your voice rising as you turned to the heroine. “And you. Sitting here, all wide-eyed and clueless, nodding along like you understand the gravity of the situation. You wouldn’t last a week managing a pantry, let alone a region.”

You didn’t give her a chance to reply before turning your sights on the nobleman. “And you,” you started, eyes narrowing as you stepped closer, “talking down to Jamil like you’ve ever lifted a finger to actually do something useful. Do you think your bloodline is going to rescue you when your estate crumbles from your own incompetence? If you spent half as much time working on something productive instead of sneering at people better than you, maybe you wouldn’t be such a leech on society.”

The nobleman’s face went red with anger, but before he could sputter a reply, you had already turned to the prince.

“And as for you,” you said, fixing him with a look of pure disdain. “What exactly is your contribution to this little scene, hm? Standing there, wringing your hands like a wet sponge. Do you have any idea what Jamil has done for your kingdom, or are you too busy polishing your tiara to notice?”

The prince opened his mouth, but no sound came out. It was glorious.

You turned back to Jamil, who was watching you with an amused but unreadable expression. “We’re done here,” you said, grabbing his arm and marching out of the room without a backward glance.

The carriage ride back was thick with silence, the weight of your outburst pressing down on you. Jamil hadn’t said a word, but you could feel his eyes on you, sharp and calculating. You kept your gaze fixed on your hands, guilt creeping up your spine.

“I— I didn’t mean to make it look like you couldn’t defend yourself,” you started, the words tumbling out of your mouth in a rush. “I just couldn’t stand the way they were talking about you—”

Before you could finish, Jamil’s hand gently tilted your chin up, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours. It wasn’t soft or tentative—no, it was a kiss that made your heart race and your mind go blank.

When he pulled away, you were breathless. “I found it hot,” he murmured, smirking.

You blinked, utterly thrown off by the confession. “What?”

He kissed you again, slower this time, and when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You have no idea how much I love you,” he whispered.

You let out a shaky laugh, still trying to process everything. “I love you too,” you whispered back, your voice full of emotion.

Jamil’s eyes softened, and without another word, Jamil swept you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly in a bridal carry as the carriage pulled up to your manor. He carried you inside, past the stunned servants, and straight to the bedroom, where the door closed with a soft click behind you.

As he laid you gently on the bed, you could only smile up at him, the weight of everything melting away in the warmth of his gaze.

And for once, the world beyond the two of you didn’t matter at all.

The scandal erupted at the royal ball like a badly timed burp during a quiet opera.

The heroine—bless her, she meant well, but her foot was permanently lodged in her mouth—had done the unthinkable. You and Jamil watched from across the ballroom as she stood before the fae delegation, attempting to “honor” their centuries-old traditions.

But instead of the elegant gesture of goodwill she was supposed to offer, she made a noise that can only be described as an awkward impersonation of a dying goose and proceeded to bow backwards.

That alone wasn’t even the worst part.

“Oh no,” Jamil whispered under his breath, eyes wide with disbelief as he took in the scene. “She’s about to—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the heroine reached into her dress and produced… a bouquet of mushrooms. Not just any mushrooms. The fae’s sacred mushrooms, rumored to be foraged under the light of a blood moon and infused with mystical properties.

She shoved them at the fae emissary like a child offering wilted flowers to a stranger, and then—oh gods, why—she patted his head.

Dead silence fell across the ballroom.

The emissary, who had remained calm despite the bowing fiasco, now stared down at the mushrooms with a look of profound insult and horror. His fellow fae were vibrating, their wings fluttering ominously, as though on the verge of launching an interdimensional war over a bouquet of fungi.

You snorted, barely containing your laughter. “She’s done it now.”

Jamil, ever the diplomat, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you know what those mushrooms symbolize to the fae?”

“No, but I’m assuming it’s not ‘Congratulations on your promotion’ or ‘Get well soon’?”

“Death,” Jamil muttered, casting a glance at you that screamed please don’t laugh. “She just handed them a bouquet that says, ‘I wish for your demise and the utter destruction of your family line.’”

At that, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. A small laugh escaped before you slapped your hand over your mouth, trying—and failing—to keep your composure. Jamil shot you a warning glare, but even he looked like he might break. The absurdity of it all was too much.

The fae emissary spoke, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. “This is an outrage. We demand recompense for this offense.”

The king and prince rushed over, trying to smooth things over with promises of reparations, apologies, anything to keep the fae from turning the court into a smoking crater. But the damage was done. The fae delegation was livid, and rightfully so. There were whispers of broken treaties, wars brewing, diplomatic chaos that would take decades to resolve.

And who did they turn to for help?

You and Jamil, of course.

Later that evening, as you lounged comfortably in your private manor, feet propped up on an ottoman, there was a frantic knock on the door. You exchanged a look with Jamil, who was reclining next to you, casually sipping his tea as though the kingdom wasn’t on the brink of a magical apocalypse.

The door swung open, and the king, the prince, and a handful of stressed-out nobles barged in, their faces pale with desperation.

“You two!” the prince bellowed, his voice barely keeping it together. “You’ve dealt with the fae before! Fix this!”

Jamil didn’t even look up from his tea. “No.”

The prince blinked. “Excuse me?”

Jamil sipped again, then casually set his cup down on the table. “I said no. I’m done. We’re done.”

You nodded, not even bothering to hide your amusement. “I think the heroine has this under control. She’s doing great.”

“She insulted the fae. She gave them a bouquet of death mushrooms!” the prince cried, waving his arms dramatically like a man in the throes of a panic-induced breakdown. “They’re going to declare war!”

“Sounds like a you problem,” you quipped, grinning.

The king, who had remained uncharacteristically silent, took a step forward, his eyes pleading. “Please, for the sake of the kingdom…”

Jamil sighed deeply, finally turning his attention to the royal mess in your doorway. “We’ve dealt with more than enough idiocy for one lifetime. How about this? You let the heroine finish what she started. If she can bungle her way into this disaster, surely she can find a way out.”

The prince spluttered, incredulous. “But you—”

“Nope,” you interrupted, standing up and stretching lazily. “We’re officially on vacation. Jamil, pack the bags.”

Jamil stood with a casual grace that belied the utter chaos unfolding behind him. “Already done.”

The king’s jaw dropped. “Vacation?! Now?! The kingdom is on the verge of collapse!”

You grabbed your coat and slung it over your shoulder with a smirk. “Well then, I’d suggest you start learning how to negotiate with the fae. Maybe start by not giving them death mushrooms.”

With that, you and Jamil strolled out of the manor, leaving the baffled royals standing in your doorway like confused children. The sound of the prince’s sputtering protests faded behind you as you made your way down the garden path, the night air cool and refreshing against your skin.

Jamil chuckled beside you, his hand slipping into yours as you walked. “Do you think they’ll manage?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” you said with a laugh. “But we deserve this. Let them figure it out for once.”

“And maybe…” you paused, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. “Maybe we should make it official while we’re at it.”

Jamil stopped in his tracks, turning to look at you, his brows lifting in surprise. “You mean… get married?”

You smiled, leaning into him. “Why not? We’ll be far away from prying eyes, just the two of us, in the summer hours. It sounds perfect.”

For a moment, the world stood still. Then Jamil’s lips curved into the softest smile you’d ever seen. “I think that sounds perfect too.”

And so, you and Jamil left the court and its catastrophes behind, fleeing to the countryside like two fugitives on the run from royal idiocy. The villa you’d chosen was perfect—nestled in the hills, far away from the fae, the heroine, and the ridiculous drama that followed her like a bad smell.

The first morning, as you lay in bed next to Jamil, sunlight streaming through the open windows, he turned to you with a grin.

“So, what now? Do we just… hide out here forever?”

You shrugged, pulling him closer. “Why not? We can start a goat farm. I’ll name all the goats after the people we hate.”

Jamil laughed, burying his face in your neck. “A herd of royal goats. Perfect.”

And somewhere, in the distance, the kingdom probably crumbled. The heroine probably insulted more magical creatures. But for once, it wasn’t your problem.

You and Jamil had found peace in the countryside.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d throw a wedding in between all the goat naming.

The days that followed were blissfully quiet, each one blending into the next in a haze of sun-soaked afternoons and peaceful nights. You and Jamil fell into an easy rhythm—waking with the sun, wandering through the countryside, sharing meals beneath the open sky. It was simple, and that simplicity was a balm to both your souls.

The court sent letters, of course—pleading, begging for your return. But each one went unanswered. The Fae situation had likely escalated, the heroine’s blunder growing more disastrous by the day, but it wasn’t your problem anymore. Let them sort out the mess. You and Jamil had something far more important now—a life of your own making.

One evening, as you sat together on the porch of the villa, watching the sunset, Jamil leaned over and whispered, “Do you think they’ve figured it out yet?”

You laughed softly, leaning into him. “That we’re never coming back?”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yes.”

“They’ll figure it out eventually,” you said, your voice light, but filled with certainty. “But by then, we’ll be long gone.”

And you were. Far from the court, from the games of power and politics, from the endless demands and expectations. You had found your own path, one where the only thing that mattered was each other.

In the end, the kingdom survived. The heroine, somehow, managed to blunder her way through the Fae negotiations, though the details remained hazy in the few letters you received from old acquaintances. The Duke, as always, remained by her side, a constant fixture in a world you no longer had to care about.

But as for you and Jamil? You stayed in the countryside, living in the warmth of each day, far from the reach of courtly drama. And when the summer finally faded into autumn, you knew, without a doubt, that you had made the right choice.

Together, you had built a life out of love, quiet and unassuming, but richer than anything the court could have ever offered. And in the end, that was more than enough

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

The next one is Floyd!

[anonymouzee]

AMARANTHINE - Dr. STONE

sum☆: "ᵉˡᵉᵍᵃⁿᵗ! "𝙰𝙼𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙴 (adj.) undying, immortal, eternally beautifulIn which Stanley Snyder, Xeno Houston Wingfield, and (Y/N) Ambrose were trapped in an unexpected stone world that had been petrified 3,700 years before. However, they were 'infiltrated' by some foreign brats all of a sudden.Of course, they don't give up without a fight, do they?

warnings:. all characters are 18+!!! violence. language. FICTION!! don't like it? scroll away!! first ever post on this app. english is not my first language, so ugh.(Dr. Stone x Reader)(Dr. STONE : New America City Arc) MANGA SPOILER

(CHAPTER 4) Z=152: Doctor vs. Doctor

As Chrome and Kohaku arrived at their designated vantage point, they were immediately struck by the sheer scale of the enemy factory. Its towering smokestacks and sprawling buildings dwarfed everything around it. Chrome, ever the strategist, was already on the line with the Perseus, relaying the latest intel.

"Perseus, come in! We have a new development," Chrome announced, her voice urgent.

On the Perseus, Senku and the others listened intently. "Got it. No more words," Senku replied, his tone equally serious.

"Right, since we're using radio waves, the enemy scientist could be intercepting our signal," Yuzuriha pointed out, her eyes filled with concern. Tsukasa nodded in agreement.

Just then, the Perseus received another incoming call. Magma, assuming it was Chrome, answered without hesitation. However, the voice on the other end was not Chrome's but that of Dr. Xeno, the mastermind behind the enemy forces.

"Greetings," Xeno said, his voice cold and calculating. "I presume this is your preferred frequency for communication?"

A wave of shock swept through the Perseus crew. The enemy had located their communication channel.

"MWAH HA HA! So you're the big bad guy, huh? You got guts!" Magma exclaimed, his bravado momentarily masking his fear.

"I apologize for my limited Japanese language skills," Xeno replied, his voice laced with disdain. "However, this conversation is not suitable for such primitive minds. I demand to speak with your science team leader."

The crew exchanged nervous glances. They knew who Xeno wanted to talk to.

"Put Dr. Taiju on the line," Xeno commanded.

Taiju, still dressed in his Gen costume, pointed at himself in confusion. "Me?"

Minami explained the situation to Senku, who realized immediately what was happening. "Ah, I see. This is Gen's doing," Senku said, picking his ear with his pinky finger. 

"Guess I'm tagging in for Senku," Taiju announced, his voice filled with determination.

"Taiju here! That's Dr. Taiju to you! So you're Dr. Xeno, huh? Pay attention, because I've got something to say to you," Taiju shouted into the phone. "Shooting people with machine guns without warning... isn't nice!"

Senku, Ukyo, and Yuzuriha couldn't help but chuckle at Taiju's naivete. 'Well, duh,' they thought in unison.

"My apologies," Xeno replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "My soldiers, Stanley and (Y/N), merely wanted to demonstrate the chasm between our respective levels of science."

"Now, Dr. Taiju," Xeno continued, "as a fellow science-pro yourself, you must surely realize... we already possess a Haber Bosch plant."

Taiju's eyes widened in confusion. "A Haber... thingy? That's awesome, Dr. Xeno!" he exclaimed, clearly out of his depth.

Senku quickly intervened. "Don't talk more than you need to, you big oaf, or the cracks will start showing," he warned Taiju.

Minami asked Senku what Xeno was talking about. "What is he talking about?"

Senku explained. "A Haber Bosch plant is a factory that makes ammonia. In short, with just water and air, they can produce unlimited gunpowder and ammunition."

"So that's how they can fire those machine guns all day long!" Taiju shouted into the phone.

"You get the gist, Dr. Taiju," Xeno replied.

The Perseus crew was impressed by Taiju's performance. "Who knew Taiju was such a performer?" Ukyo said.

Yuzuriha couldn't help but laugh. "More like up front and direct," she replied.

"We are a collective of professional adults," Xeno said, his voice filled with contempt. "Unlike your ragtag band of merry youths playing with science. Now, I hope you'll surrender at once and serve me. Nothing more, nothing less. You see, our population is lacking." 

Xeno explained that he didn't have enough manpower to de-petrify the statues and was therefore unable to expand his forces. He offered the Perseus crew a chance to surrender and serve him.

Ryusui realized why the enemy lacked revival fluid. Magma, however, was confused. "What's he mean? They don't have enough people? Why not just wake up the stone statues lying around everywhere?" he asked.

"HA HA! This tells us... they don't know about the revival fluid! Am I right?" Ryusui said confidently.

Xeno, realizing his mistake, asked how the Perseus crew had revived the statues. He was unintentionally revealing his ignorance of the revival fluid.

"Well, we..." Taiju began to explain, but Senku and Ryusui interrupted him. "We'll simply crush your group once we have the manpower to do so," Senku said, his voice cold and calculating.

Senku then revealed that they could have Corn City running with the formula. With that, Taiju rejected Xeno's offer, and Xeno promptly ended the call.

"You're never getting the revival fluid! Request denied, mister!" Taiju shouted into the phone.

"Very well. Negotiations have broken down then. What a shame," Xeno replied, his voice filled with disappointment.

Just then, the Perseus crew heard a noise and looked up to see another enemy plane flying overhead. The enemy had reinforcements.

"<Ooh, that's one whopper of a flagship,>" Stanley remarked, his eyes wide with amazement.

(Y/N), ever the daredevil, climbed onto the roof of the plane and sat in a makeshift seat, her machine gun ready. "<How cute~,>" she cooed, gripping the gun tightly.

Meanwhile, on the Perseus, the crew turned to Senku for guidance. "How can we fight back? We don't have an airstrip," Ukyo asked.

Senku's response was both unexpected and ingenious. "Then we just gotta make one," he replied.

"Where?" Ukyo asked, confused.

Senku pointed at the Perseus. "Here," he said. "We're going to build an aircraft carrier on the Perseus."

The crew was stunned. An aircraft carrier on a ship? It was a crazy idea, but it was also the only way to fight back against the overwhelming enemy forces. Senku announced that he and Kaseki would start building a runway.

"It's aircraft carrier time!" Senku shouted excitedly. "The Perseus is getting a total makeover!"

[hismercytomyjustice]

I will never financially recover from 600 Strike…

I just…

God it’s so fucking good… T^T

Of course the “NEXT TO MY WIFE” part, but Odysseus showing Poseidon what happens when you finally get exactly what you want…

Look what you’ve turned me into

Look what we’ve become

*incoherent screeching*

The lyrics are just SO GOOD. Like, I am awe of how Jay manages to one up himself over and over again. This song is maybe the most pivotal one as far as Odysseus’s character arc is concerned and he fucking CRUSHED IT.

I AM ADDING A CUT BECAUSE I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS, OKAY?! ( ༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ)

UGH. I will never get enough of this musical, I s2g. Jay does such an amazing job of portraying Odysseus’s emotions and mental state throughout. By the time we get to 600 Strike, it’s fucking heartbreaking. Odysseus has tried SO HARD for SO LONG to be a good person. He never wanted any of this! He never wanted to be ruthless! But over and over and over again he is just doomed by the gods narrative.

UUUGH. It makes No Longer You (probs my fave song of the musical) EVEN BETTER because yeah, “I see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it’s no longer you.”

The gods have forced Odysseus time and time again to be ruthless. He has fought for twenty years to retain some semblance of his innate desire for mercy only to watch it ripped away from him, piece by devastating piece.

I utterly adore the way we see him broken down until the ONLY thing he has left for any chance at happiness or normalcy is making it home to his wife and son.

He starts out this whole journey with the goal of getting himself AND his crew home only to watch them die in increasingly horrific ways because of the impossible situations they keep getting forced into.

I feel like Oddyseus’s first major breakdown happens in The Underworld. That’s where it finally all starts to be too fucking much. Where he hits his limit. Just the “All I hear are screams, every time I dare to close my eyes. I no longer dream, only nightmares of those who've died.”

And then the utterly gut wrenching scene with his mom. ( ༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ)

I feel like up to this point, yeah he’s concerned about what’s going on back at home, but this is the first time he’s straight up confronted with the fact things are changing there and there’s NOTHING he can do about it. His absolute worst fear has come true. He lost someone he loved forever because he couldn’t make it home.

How did she die? Odysseus doesn’t know. She could have died peacefully of old age or been slaughtered. Either way he wasn’t there to comfort her or protect her. She died not knowing if he would ever made it home. Even in death, she’s stuck forever wondering what happened to him and wishing she could see him again.

HE IS RIGHT THERE and she will never know because he was too late.

Like logically he knows time is passing in Ithaca too, but up to this point I feel like Ithaca is more of a concept to him than a reality. His last memories of his home are of his wife and infant son from over a decade ago. Obviously they’ve aged too, but he hasn’t seen the effects of the passage of time on them. He doesn’t know what’s become of them or his country without its king.

It makes so much sense that this is when he finally starts to consider ruthlessness over mercy. Especially after Tiresias implies he will never make it home. Like obvs we know he will and that Tiresias just means he won’t be the same person when he does, but Odysseus doesn’t know that.

Regardless, Tiresias is right. The only way Odysseus will ever make it home is to cut away at everything that makes him who he is. His morality, his desire for mercy, his loyalty to his crew, his friends...

His friends who trust him, only for him to keep leading them to horrific deaths time and time again by clinging to his desire for mercy.

God, and then there’s Mutiny. This whole time Eurylochus has been begging Odysseus to focus on the needs of the few instead of the many, to “cut their losses.” And now Odysseus finally does by sacrificing six men and Eurylochus cannot fucking believe it, even after trying to convince him to do this EXACT same thing back in Puppeteer.

I think Eurylochus ultimately wants Odysseus to keep leading them, even when he doesn’t agree with his decisions, because he doesn’t trust himself to make to put the lives of everyone else first. He relies so much on Odysseus as his moral compass and now that compass has been shattered into a million pieces.

This is not his captain. This IS NOT his friend. This is also the moment Eurylochus realizes Odysseus intends to get home by any means necessary and that fucking terrifies him.

He could always count on Odysseus to keep the safety of the crew first and foremost, to be their pillar of strength in the face of adversity, but now? Now he can’t.

Besides, he’s finally convinced himself that they’ll never make it home, so why should they keep fighting? Why not just try and live out the rest of their lives in peace? Why invite more suffering and pain into their lives?

Then comes Thunder Bringer, where Eurylochus’s biggest fear is realized. Odysseus openly admits he will do whatever it takes to make it home to his wife and son.

At this point, Odysseus is desperately trying to justify all of the horrors and loss they’ve been through. Hundreds of men who trusted him have died because of him. He believes he’s led them astray over and over again.

But if he doesn’t make it home, what was the point of all of this? Does he give up now for the sake of his remaining crew, or does he honor the sacrifice of those they’ve lost by finally making it home? Every single one of them has died in their attempts to get home. How can he sleep at night if he gives up on getting there now? It would mean they all died for absolutely nothing.

And like, it’s a fucked up decision but I think it’s fair to say Odysseus is running on pure PTSD and vibes at this point. He is literally staring ZEUS in the face. Zeus who pretty much made him kill a defenseless child “for the greater good.” Zeus who is asking him to make another impossible choice.

His remaining crew has already admitted they’ve given up on getting home, but Odysseus hasn’t. If no one makes it back, how will the family and friends they’ve left behind ever find closure? They’ll spend the rest of their days living and dead waiting for them to come home like his mother has. They’ll descend into the underworld never knowing what happened to them and hoping against hope that they’ll still see them again.

Hope is such a powerful thing, but it can also be devastating. Isn’t it kinder to let them know what happened than to let them die, trapped warring with grief and hope forever? Because not knowing, while it can give them hope, it’s a false hope at this point. It’s not real.

Isn’t it crueler to leave them scanning the horizon for the rest of their lives, looking for ships that will never come? Isn’t it crueler to force thousands upon thousands of voices to join his mother’s in the underworld?

Isn’t it kinder to give them closure? To let them finally be able to fully grieve?

The least he can do is tell their loved ones what happened to them, isn’t it?

And now, twenty years later, he’s finally within sight of Ithaca. Now he can justify all of his decisions, all of the pain, all of the heartache. He’s can do the one good thing left to him after all these years.

So of course that’s when Poseidon strikes in a final act of devastating cruelty. All because Odysseus blinded rather than outright killed his son. His son who planned to kill and eat him and every single one of his 600 crew members.

It’s simultaneously so cathartic and heartbreaking when Odysseus first brings the trident down on Poseidon. Especially after pleading with him one last time to stop this never ending cycle of violence and pain.

But Poseidon refuses to stop. He’s more concerned about his pride and his reputation than in admitting he’s taken things too far. This so-called god has the nerve to have killed almost every man in his crew and then tell Odysseus he hasn’t suffered enough. He’s already paid for his actions with the blood of hundreds of men. What debt could he possibly have left to pay?

Tbh I would not have blamed Odysseus for torturing Poseidon for the rest of his days. And, if he chose ruthlessness over mercy, that’s what he would have done. Poseidon would’ve gotten exactly what he wanted. Lol, just not like this.

But no. Even in the midst of all of this, of getting to hear this murderer, this god cry out and beg for the mercy he denied him so many times, Odysseus stops. Poseidon finally knows what it’s like to feel helpless and to feel unending pain.

Surprised Pikachu face! He’s not a fan!

Odysseus has pled with the gods to be merciful for over twenty years now. Zeus, Athena, Poseidon, Calypso, Circe… He’s begged them time and time again to see there are other ways than ruthlessness. He managed to get through to Circe, since she alone viscerally understood the pain and loss he’d been through. And now all the rest of them finally understand too.

Athena goes to Zeus on his behalf to convince him and a whole host of other gods to give Odysseus another chance. Calypso lets him leave her island. Zeus realizes the folly of his own pride when he nearly kills his own daughter. Poseidon agrees to call off the storm.

It’s such a fascinating story and I utterly adore Jay’s interpretation of it. Mercy is what ultimately gets Odysseus home, even if he had to be ruthless to get it.

AND AND AND all the callbacks in the songs, the bastardization of moments of joy. The reclamation of moments of horror!!! T^T

JAY WHEN I CATCH YOU.

[fairytaehl]

lgief rewatch eps. 4-5

okay, this is definitely the final in my little triology of posts here. i shared ep. 4 here and most of ep 5. here but tumblr has a photo limit and i cant speak without my visuals! and i wont make gifs, i want stills. so this is the last big post for ep. 5~

STARTING OFF STRONG WITH THE BEST SCENE. oh, you guys dont even know how many times i replayed this on my FIRST watch. 10 times? 15 times? way more than necessary. whoever directed this deserves every award possible. i mean, COME ON.

she's desperately looking for her dad, in an absolute fire hazard of a costume, and who grabs her to save her? MU SHENG!!! the way he grips her arm and stares so intensely. oh my gosh, i could not believe this was 0%. 0%? HOW IS THIS ZERO PERCENT? and i wont dive much into it here but when i read this post about yaos it made me totally think his 0% has to be much different than what humans would feel at 0%. (my friend also said his measured in celsius instead of fahrenheit.)

"are you out of your mind?" YEAH. SHE IS. logically she should've caught on fire and had to backflip into the river like one of the guards.

going as far as to beg him to help her, even knowing he planned on doing something to get her dad punished for justice, grasping him and pleading, meanwhile hes looking at her like she's crazy.

he looks just as hot as the scene around him... jesus.

and the way he sees how frantic she looks and forcibly turning her around, hands on her shoulders. oh we're in deep, arent we?

i wont include it, but then her saying "why is it full?" and him looking away, i think he had the same question too, but i wonder if he felt weird because even she was questioning it...

sorry, the way he sneaks up here... gosh he has NO bad angles. and then confronts him about why he seems disappointed, ugh, we love a justice-seeking baddie.

moving on to much later, as even though we had some physical contact between the two from here with her stopping him from destroying all of the funds her dad used, i dont know if i have that much to say! i mean, him and fuyi having a tense moment with the crates was symbolic of their relationship, ill mention.

his head tilt... so cute... and miaomiao looks extra adorbs too. i know we compare him to a cat a lot but this was very puppy-like of him.

wiping his hands after burning the fake accounting book and acting like it was nothing when she stares at him. uh huh, sure, it was just for justice, totally.

oh please, her calling him out on being a softie... you got him down already, cause he really is! acting so tough because he suspects her, but lets be real, you cant hate her now that you know her. again, knowing when shes looking, and asking "what are you looking at" as if he doesnt know!!! this whole scene i couldnt help myself but say "tsundere, smh"

and even after saying "this isnt over since you stole my precious sisters snack from me" hes STILL just baaaaarely got a smile on his face... yes, the percentage changes next ep back to negative but... he was already falling here, lets not get it twisted.

would you believe i still hit photo limit? sigh... life as a shipper is so hard. i love these two. i might keep doing this, not because i have any true analysis of anything deep (though i could), but simply because i love how ding yuxi portrays ziqi, and how esther yu portrays miaomiao. they sold it so well, where every expression and movement matters, and you can see the characters (mostly ziqi) changing based off how they react. oh its so good...

[rose-of-red-lake]

Ugh... I saw people on Twitter only caring about the enemies to lovers story in The Acolyte while totally ignoring the problematic things that both the series and Lesyle Headland had just shown. I think I'm gonna be sick 🤢

That's shippers for you. And I say this as a shipper myself: shippers are here to party at the university. They share fandom space next to folks who are trying to study. If you get my meaning.

I need limits on my partying. For that reason, it's really important to my fandom experience to interact with non-shippers. To turn off the shipping lens and just talk about the characters without being horny on main.

I was talking about a show with some friends who turned every relationship on the show into a ship. Can we talk about the scene with two characters having a quiet conversation? Of course not, silly, its a conversation about their suppressed sexual attraction. And every interaction with every character is a ship of some kind. I can entertain that for a while but eventually I'm looking for the exit.

That's why "horny jail" became a thing. A self-deprecating way to deal with embarrassing stuff in fandoms without shipper shame. It's great for people like me who don't always want to hear it. I think it works well on Discord. On Twitter, not so much.

I am probably a buzzkill in shipping fandoms because I don't ship villains/hero ships, enemies to lovers, or Sith ships. Mainly because I think someone has to earn the status of villain--just like they have to earn the status of hero. And to do that, I'm more satisfied when the shippers are pissed. When the enemy or villain is terrifying to the love interest without limits. Meaning the Disney version of the Beast would kill Belle, like Anakin strangled Padme. I've seen a lot of "Anakin was hot when he went bad" but was the Force choke hot? Lol no. George shut down the party because it needed to stop for narrative and character reasons. And the film was better for it.

So to my mind Qimir should eventually be killing Osha without remorse or vice versa. Otherwise they both just get wishy-washy fic-style of writing, i.e. "he's mean to everyone but the love interest." And of course she would never break it off, either. 🙄

There are a few exceptions for me with villain shipping. Better Call Saul, where Jimmy and Kim became so harmful to other people from their grifting, that Kim broke it off permanently. Jimmy confessed and willingly gave up his freedom to go to prison for her. I liked him in prison and her visiting him. He decided not to be power hungry like Walter White because he wasn't willing to destroy all of his relationships.

And an Obidala fic where Obi-Wan grew up under the Empire, was trained as a Sith, and fell in love with Sith!Padme. And guess what? She killed his ass to get power because that's what Sith fuckin do! LOL

So no...I don't like these vanilla soft serve villains or their ships. I want villains to earn the status of villain. To me that's more important than pleasing the shippers, who are just going to party no matter the canon.

[uroboros-if]

seeing your rant about how difficult it is to be somewhat rude without ruining your relationships in ifs WAS SO RELATABLE! It doesn’t feel real to be always good or nice to characters to be liked

I’m not saying you should be able beat them up and still romance without consequences but romance/relationships aren’t always perfect and peaceful!!! Disagreements/arguments should be something that can happen without it being at the cost of the relationship itself ugh because that’s normal come on >:| as an angst enjoyer, its so hard to have fun without the character being like “you dont agree with me? perish then”

so I’m even more excited for the game now that I saw your take on it because LETS GO!!!!!! <3

You succinctly explained what I struggled to! 😭

I will confess it's half self-indulgent, because I really enjoy relationships where the two must confront their conflicting ideals! I understand most seek other like-minded people, but what of characters who like to be challenged? Characters who can't help but be attached to someone they shouldn't be?

Even setting that aside, you are completely correct! As long as that topic isn't sensitive to someone and neither party is inflexible, people won't automatically like you less.

So not only does such an approval system lose out on angst potential, sometimes it's also unrealistic. There is truth in it as our opinions of others do adjust based on their actions, and those things add up! However, it's a problem when it's applied to even arbitrary choices, or it unnecessarily severely impacts your approval.

Under the read more is my "theory" on why some ROs in IFs are defined by a dynamic trope (rivals to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, etc)!! 💕

It is difficult, if not impossible for a numerical approval system to qualitatively judge your relationship dynamics; it can only judge based on the weight of each choice. It can't, for example, see you've transitioned from being rude, to softening up to the character after realizing they're not so bad. The game only sees the sum of all your negative and positive points.

Without a way to label your actions by anything but a number, a system that purely relies on numerics is incapable of interpreting the dynamics of your relationship, and therefore customizing future interactions with the RO.

Of course, I think most IFs don't purely rely on numbers. Some do a hybrid in which important decisions are tracked qualitatively and lesser ones are tracked numerically. However, even then, some romance is limited by a baseline approval you must achieve in a certain timeframe, and that leads to pressure to meet that mystery number.

Furthermore, these qualitative "important decisions" often have more to do with the plot than how it defines your relationship specifically -- things like "did you kill their father?" rather than "What were their first impressions of the MC?"

So I believe that without a way to interpret the MC's actions meaningfully, there's only one way to play a romance route. There's only one dynamic with that character, one way the relationship can really be. You can be different genders, have your relationship contextualized differently as the story changes from your actions, but rarely does it dramatically differ solely on personality. Rarely does it examine how your relationship varies from the different ways you interact with that character.

I think it's fine that some characters are like that! In fact, it's realistic that some dynamics don't suit certain characters. For example, it's not possible to have rivals to lovers with Salvatore, because they have no reason to see you as a rival, even if you hate them or try to compete with them.

However, taking Sal as an example, your relationship can vary widely by your attitude towards them. It can be a case of friends who lost touch and regret having lost touch; it can be one-sided, as Sal may view MC as a friend, but the MC is bitterly jealous of them. Perhaps MC doesn't think much of them at all.

That's the kind of meaningful interpretation of relationships I aim for--different dynamics rather than boxing in Sal as the typical childhood friends to lovers. There is no one way to play their romance; it should change as the MC is different.

I see how it's not for everyone, and I acknowledge that it is a Herculean task that may, in time, reveal the full extent of its complexity. But I strive for it because such a complicated relationship is central to the conflict of Uroboros. There is nothing more important an undertaking than character relationships in the IF.

Extremely long theory and rambling, but I am so happy someone shares my thoughts, at least as far as disagreements with the ROs!! ❤️❤️ Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to share even more of my opinion, Anon! I'm thrilled you are so excited for the story!

[skye-huntress]

I’m in Love with the Villainess Reaction

Episode 8

Okay, so we have Rae giving the political exposition. The game is called Revolution for a reason so of course there’s a lot of actual politics.

Oops, Rae, you almost broke character there. It’s tricky to discuss such things without it leading to a fight or alienation.

Wait, is that Lily? Yes! I was hoping they’d show her early since we’re not got to that particular arc this season. Even if it’s just a brief appearance, I’ll take it!

His wounds have to be pretty bad if this is what he’s like after receiving healing magic.

Can’t blame him for being cynical of the knights after a noble attacked him.

Look, Matt’s an idiot. We know that since he tries to talk to people while they’re working or on a date. So I can imagine him saying something stupidly provocative out loud when tensions are high, but Dede shouldn’t have butted in in the first place without Yu’s permission. And it certainly wasn’t his place to defend someone else’s “honour” when they weren’t even there to speak for themselves. Dede should never have talked to Matt, and he definitely shouldn’t have pulled out his wand.

I’m on Yu’s side. The Princes, all Royals really, should be more mindful of the voices of the people, otherwise they can’t effectively govern for them.

Ugh, I’m with Rae. The commoners have the most reason to be upset and Rae is expected to talk to them about the grievances while maintaining neutrality as a Knight. Those aren’t going to be fun conversations.

The Bauers are just like “Do it, Claire, we need her for this.”

That sentence is bullshit. Even if it was an accident, Dede still drew his wand on another student, and they were severely injured because of it. If he’d only just threatened him with the wand and no one was hurt, a week on house arrest might still be going easy on him.

On one side, there are the nobles who think they are entitled to step on the commoners all they want and be above the law. On the other, the commoners are sick of the mistreatment and unequal application of the law. And in the middle, the Church seemingly playing to both sides to look after its own interests.

The less I say about Yu’s mother, Queen Riche, the better.

Look at Claire, taking care of Ralaire and putting her in her pocket.

Uh-oh, Rae’s using her serious voice.

While everyone else was scratching their heads, Rae knew exactly what this sequence of events meant and what they’d eventually lead up to. But before she can deal with the plot, she wanted Claire out of harm’s way. After all, making sure Claire gets her happy ending is Rae’s ultimate goal, and she would rather her out of harm’s way as much as possible.

Now is our favourite masked weirdo’s time to shine.

“I don’t have proof, but I know everything.” It’s surprising how effective it is when Rae demonstrates knowledge that she logically shouldn’t be able to obtain, like Lambert’s true motive.

If you go back to that last conversation they had, there was more being communicated between Rae and Lene than what was said. Rae was begging Lene to stay with Claire and not try to save Lambert. I guess her sisterly like love for Claire was no match for what she and Lambert share.

And the hero of the day is Ralaire.

It was fun seeing people speculate what role the Masked Stranger had in the plot, but the truth is he wasn’t in the game Rae played at all. She doesn’t know everything after all. This was inevitable, a game has only so much content, so many characters and respective roles, but this is a whole world. There’s more here than Rae could possibly know about.

Ugh, time magic. That’s got to be cheating.

She’s just been betrayed by her oldest, dearest friend, but Claire still wants to help Lene.

Okay, that water bubble, the princess carry, the landing, that was pretty cool.

Yes, yes, we know, Claire. Rae’s magic is ludicrously OP, and even now she can’t resist a chance to flirt.

That said, Rae has her limits. She doesn’t have Rod’s insane magical reserves and I know that spell was one of her most powerful, and draining.

The problem with Chimera is that they have three attributes. Fire for the head, earth for the body, and water for the tail. We even see it use its tail to block Claire’s fire earlier. And each body part is naturally resistant to its respective element, which also happen to be the three elements Rae and Claire possess between the two of them. What I’m saying they’re at a considerable disadvantage.

I knew we were dangerously close to running out of time this episode. Guess we’ll have to see the epic conclusion of this fight next episode.

Just to be clear, this Chimera is more of a mid-game boss. There’s plenty of story after this, though we’re only going to get one more arc before the season is over. In fact, by the end of next episode, the mystery girl in the OP everyone’s wondering about should finally make her appearance.

[stanriya]

your night guest. (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)⁠♥

your the most sweet and nice best friend bennett that comes to your house at night turns out being... yandere?

tw. yandere bennett basically, but he's honestly too innocent

guys he's so sweet and so underrated I'm literally crying T_T

"you're my treasure"

bennett literally was rolling on his own bed thinking about what you have said today at yours weekly friend meeting. his you're treasure. gosh, has he lost his mind or you really have something toward him?! bennett would repeat your words in his head for hours, first scroll through his memory and all the details of this moment, starting from the sunny weather, light and soft wind that tickled his bare shoulders, your beautiful eyes that looked deep into his soul, your sweet pinkish lips (he won't dare to kiss them, no no, he just can't) and right after that flashback he immediately curl up, squeezing his eyes and blushing all over his face. and do this again. and again. and this cycle would go for the whole night, bennet has no doubt at it. but he can't stand it anymore. he just can't stand all those romantic made up scenarios about the two of you. he wants to express his eternal love to you, show you how much he adores you, because, ugh, man you're just perfect!! how else should he describe you?! all your character traits, he just found of them. he literally doesn't see any "negative" or "bad" traits in you (is it even possible for you?). all your smiles that you give to him whenever he failed or brought a new disaster to other people, you never reproach him for such things, in comparison with others.

his optimism reached its adequate limit ages ago, turning into some toxic constant mantra that he repeats every day if not every minute to himself, because he's not that impossible, right? people don't hate him because of all the problems that he causes that are not his fault and he's not left by them, right? bennett was boiling in this endless suffering cycle like, for years, or maybe even his whole life? until you came. yes, you made him happy for real. you actually made him laugh, all the innocent time you spend with him, with exactly zero toxicity in your friendship. is it even possible?

you're too perfec for him. to be even real.

how can he be even closer to you? no, you're friends. at least you think so. he doesn't even know how to overstep this "friendzone" boundary and don't lose you. because his life already pointless without you. he can't lose and you. no no no.

but, he can't stand it anymore either...

and what there's left? only one solution.

"I have to see her." bennett pulled the blanket off him and started dressing up to meet you. his heart is beating hard. his cheeks are pinky. he is ready to tell what he really thinks about you. the question is now, are you ready to hear it? well, you have no choice. because bennett loves you more than anything. he can't escape his feelings toward you, so neither do you.

bennett left his house and headed to your place. though your home address is new to him at least it should be, it's actually not strange to him. he remembers it and goes like into his own place.

you were very surprised by your night guest. you didn't expect anyone, especially always polite and sweet bennett. but how could you ignore him?

"y/n, I wanna to tell you something... but promise not to laugh" you giggled, admitting bennett's shy smile and his hand behind his head, his attempt at something serious. "I... I-i... hey, could you please turn around?..." you adored his puppy eyes right now, so you turned around just like bennett asked you. "thank you" bennet is always like this. you feel how nervous he is and try to relax him. "yes, I'm fine, thank you though, I'm just... I just..." he saw you turning back to him wanting to see him, but the moment you saw his eyes he just confessed.

"I love you !!!"

bennett confessed with squeezed eyes, red face and hands clenched into fists. you can't imagine a cuter scene in your life.

"I love you too, bennett."

there is no end to his happiness. you literally made him the happiest person in the whole world, the way his eyes glared at you, he took you into his hands the second moment. he even cries because of how much he loves you. please, be his for the rest of your lifes. bennett swears to make you loved.

" you're the light of my whole life, love <3 "

[away-ward]

Kill Switch Discussion Questions

On to Kill Switch, which I possibly might have even less to say about.

What did you like most about the book?

There was a scene were Emmy was hinted at. I liked that.

What did you like least about the book?

Winter. And Damon. and most everything else.

If there was one aspect of the story you could change, what would it be?

I really don't know. I wish I could tell you why these characters aren't connecting with me, why I didn't really like anything that happened, and why all of that somehow led to this blog.

Did I like it? No. Did it compel me to continue? Yes. But why?

I would have changed Winter's personality a little. I would have left Damon's redemption, if he absolutely needed one, to the end of the series. I would have changed a lot.

Was the book what you expected it to be?

Yep. I was about as interested as I expected to be.

Is Damon a sympathetic character?

I'm literally dying. Sure. Abuse sucks. He went through a lot of it. His responses make sense. I sympathize.

I just wish that his redemption didn't lead to him to becoming a caricature of his former self.

Do you understand his behavior in previous books more or less so now?

Yeah, of course I understand. I don't think anything he's done was a healthy response. It wasn't reasonable. Damon's still a mess, and no matter how much you explain the reasons, there is no magic wand that is going to wave his craziness away and make his behavior acceptable.

But again! I also never cared if his behavior was acceptable. Let him be messy!!

Where you surprised that Rika and Damon had such a strong relationship without Michael knowing?

Rika can't help herself from getting involved with things she knows she ought not. Damon likes messing with things that aren't his.

I struggle to understand why anyone finds Rika fascinating. So on that level, yeah I was surprised. But as far as the characters and this story go, this all made perfect scene.

Do you feel that the relationship between Will and Damon is co-dependent? 

Still yes. Neither of them function well without the other. One leaving causes a disturbance and disorder in the other's life.

Banks acts as Damon’s kill switch growing up. How so?

He used her to distract from his pain by creating a new pain, and she took an active role it in to keep him happy.

Who is the most powerful character in Kill Switch?

I don't know. Can't be Gabriel cause he dead.

I'm just gonna toss out Winter, because she's the only one who tamed Damon and got him back in line so he could stop terrorizing everyone. Could be Rika because she set this all in motion by supplying the information.

I think I continue to miss the point about why it matters.

Is Will closest to Damon out of the group, because he understands him and connects with him, or because Damon is another of Will’s vices?

Will doesn't feel like he can compete with Michael and Kai, because they take a more mature approach to things, while Damon indulgences Will. So in a way, Damon is another of Will's vices, but I don't think that's the whole reason why they're closest to each other.

Now reading Michael’s, Kai’s, and Damon’s story, who is the strongest leader so far?

Again, I'm crying. I can't figure out why this matters.

Michael is the leader regardless, because Damon follows to him. Whether it's out of ease because he doesn't want to be without them and he knows Michael wants the role, or because Michael is stronger in the role and Damon doesn't want the job, doesn't change anything.

It's not Kai, though. That's a hilarious thought.

Why is the Queen on his chess board a metaphor for how Damon operated during this book?

Ugh, chess. I haven't played in a million years.

The queen is the most powerful piece on the board, though it's not the end goal and it can be captured. The queen is also not limited in its movements, which directions it can go in, and how many squares it can move in a single turn.

So is the point that Damon could go anywhere and was a powerful player, but he wasn't the end all, be all of the game?

WAs winter the king? Rika?

It wasn't Banks because of course it wasn't.

I don't know. I think it's in how he moved throughout the story.

How do you believe spending 33 months in solitary confinement changed Damon’s perception of reality, changed him mentally, and changed him physically?

It made him worse. It would make anyone worse. I don't know the exact ways it changed him. He'd be more deranged, less resilient both physically and mentally. He falls apart in Corrupt, less than a year after being released, and it takes him nearly three years to start putting himself back together.

After reading about what transpired between Winter and Damon, do you feel Winter betrayed Damon and wrongly sent him to prison because she didn’t tell the truth?

In a way? Like she knew that she was a willing participant but she was violated. I don't think it was wrong, but she was not being fair.

Do you believe Damon raped Winter because he actively concealed his true identity? If you were Winter’s parent, would you feel like he had taken advantage of her impairment?

Yeah! And Yes. He definitely took advantage of her impairment. How else do you understand it when he's making the effort to trick her other senses to avoid her being able identify him.

I don't mean to say that Winter is without responsibility in this situation, but if you are concealing you're identify because you know this person wouldn't come near you under any other circumstances, and you gain their trust and then use that trust to have sex with them, you have to understand when that person feels violated. That's fundamental. And I maintain that consent requires full disclosure.

But she was aware that this person could be anyone. She put herself in the position, and I don't usually victim blame, but in this case she was a willing participant. I don't, however, blame her for feeling like she'd been violated.

She should have accepted that she let someone who had not disclosed their identity get close to her, instead of refusing accountability for the entire time.

Should Damon have served time in prison?

I believe if Winter had accepted accountability, (and if strings weren't be pulled behind the scenes) Damon could have avoided such a long sentence.

I don't know whether he should have gone to prison or not. It's not like Winter was 18, and was fully aware of all the facts. He took advantage of her. There consequences for that.

It may not seem fair, but it is justice. They don't always align.

Was Damon justified in his revenge towards Winter and her family?

I guess. Because Winter only hated Damon as much as she did because her dad lied about her injury. If he hadn't lied, then Damon might have been able to be honest and have a real relationship with Winter. And then if he hadn't encouraged Winter's feelings of being violated, she might have spoken up in defense of Damon.

Mayor Ashby attempted to ruin his life and his relationship with Winter, and for a period of time, he succeed. Damon wanting revenge makes sense.

Who is the stronger sibling, Rika, Banks, or Damon? 

Why are we back here? Not that I'm shocked.

I guess Rika, because the other two will move to defend her. They sort of revolve around her. I guess she is the King on the board.

I hate that we're still talking about this.

With regards to Winter’s “ghost”, do you believe she thought it might have been Damon or truly believed it was someone she didn’t know?

I think in the deepest part of her that she didn't want to acknowledge, for self-preservation, she knew there was a chance it could be Damon. Her ability to deny that was both a blessing and a curse.

Why did Gabriel let his wife molest Damon?

Because he thought that it would make him a man like him, cruel and feared? Because he never cared about Damon and his pain, and maybe his pain could one day be useful? I mean, it almost worked for his benefit. If those darn friends hadn't come alone and weakened him.

Do you feel more or less sympathetic towards Christiane’s character now that you understand what happened between her and Gabriel?

It changes not one bit how I feel about Christiane's character. I sympathized with her before, I feel bad for her now.

Do I think this provides an excuse for her excessive drinking and leaving teenage Rika to care for herself? No. She's mom. No amount of bad things happening make it okay for her to turn that part of her off and nearly drink herself to death. And it kind of sucks that she comes back to life only when Damon becomes available to her again.

The way Rika deserved a better mom...

huh. Maybe I do feel less sympathy for her. What do you know. The questions might be useful after all.

Should Gabriel’s death have been more horrific knowing how terrible of a person he was?

Hm. On one hand, his death was very anti-climatic. But there's also something great in it being treated as unimportant.

He was a terrible person. Let his existence fade without note.

Why did Damon marry Winter’s sister and not her?

Power trip? Toying with Winter?

I'd actually be interested in a thoughtful answer to this question.

What is Winter’s kill switch?

Damon? Dance? Those times when Damon would take her driving?

Why did the power switch to Winter in the dynamic between her and Damon after the bathtub scene?

Oof, I don't remember. I wanna say it's because Winter became aware of how much power she actually held over him; how weak he was to her.

Why was it so significant that Damon hid those tiny treasures in the catacombs and gave Winter the “instructions” on how to find them?

Huh. Again, don't remember this. But was it because he was introducing her to part of his world, but trusting her to navigate it alone?

Is sex Will’s kill switch?

Yeah.

How is the knowledge of Michael’s father responsible for the death of Rika’s father a change in the relationship between Michael and Rika?

Rika is vengeful, but that's her fiancé's father, so obviously that's an issue. To get her revenge, she'd have to risk stepping over Michael.

Why is Damon leaving the revenge on Michael’s father in her hands?

Because she's the King?

Or it's possible that he considers this revenge to be hers and not his, and she gave him the opportunity to get his revenge. He's returning the favor.

Maybe speed running these questions two years after I finished reading them the first time was not my best idea, but I wanted them complete.

Nothing called for this and I do wish I had better answers. Thanks for reading anyway.

[waterloggedsoliloquy]

see i take "doomed by the narrative" to mean a character who is doomed (either dead or stagnant with no hope of any trajectory) by the narrative (the nature of the work existing as a story puts unique pressure/limitations on the characters through the medium of choice, where the fact that its a story with a weaker fourth wall is a deliberate choice). Doomed by the narrative meaning the constraints of narrative/genre/medium actively prevent the character from getting out of a cul de sac, and the character pushing against this metatextual boundary is part of the conflict and futility of the exercize. but i see "doomed by the narrative" applied to characters who dont die, break free from their constraints, or go stagnant at all, let alone in metatextual fashions.

what i mean is like. truman and utena are doomed by the narrative in the sense that the narrative is an oppressive force that has put them in a lose-lose situation, no matter how much they object, and the only move left for them is to exit their respective stories. the only things left for them in the narrative are death, or playing by the rules and stagnating. so they bring the curtain down. this is also the intended functions of the truman show and of RGU, to deliberately invoke the fact that the world is a closed narrative and not let you-- the viewer-- forget it, in order to make a point, or a lot of points. The Truman Show and RGU categorically can't be interacted with an audience looking for an experience where they can be sufficiently immersed into a story that they don't need to think about it as something someone else made. (Tangentially, i feel like a lot of shallow criticisms of virtually anything could be remedied by reminding them that the works they complain about were created on purpose by real living people and did not spring fully flawed out of the void.) Thats not to say that kind of story or audience is wrong-- there are countless stories that work better without the looming reminder of fictionalization hanging over someone's head. But it's just-- ugh, you get me. onto another example.

Antigone is doomed by the narrative because the complicated poetry of her small world is of the understanding that this is a tragedy, and the hero of a tragedy must die, no matter how much they try to fight it. The laws of her world are defined entirely amd immutably by the genre it takes place in. The characters implicutly know this. The best thing she can do is die on her own terms. No matter how many times the play is put on, the end result is the same. The characters of the world of OFF are doomed by the narrative because OFF is painfully aware that it is a video game, and many of the characters know it, or at least they know there is a higher power watching it spool out. And if you are an adversary in an RPG standing between the protagonist and his progression, there is only one end for you, and its your HP reaching zero. Finishing OFF means finishing them off. The game has multiple endings but to even get to the end you gotta kill basically everyone. By then its too late. There is not a circumstance where these characters survive bc the rule of the medium does not permit it. This is the category of fridged women.

As for stagnation this is for characters that are by edict of the limits of the narrative are neither permitted to die nor improve their situation nor even leave. They have reached a point of no return. This may or may not be their fault. I think this is a pretty rare character type. Creon also from antigone goes here. Zacharie, also from OFF. Any protagonist of an abandoned webcomic lol. WD Gaster.

i just feel like if ur gonna talk abt a character who is doomed u better actually mean a character who, no matter how many times you reroll the dice, is going to be irreparably fucked. And if its at the hands of a narrative you better mean its at the hands of the narrative, and that its part of the point, an active pressure and limiter.

[waywardsalt]

Bellumbeck is such an interesting final boss, because not only is it your ally, some of the bosses actions/details make it clear that Linebeck is fighting back. Retraining Ciela instead of killing her, using moves he's seen Link do, and more darkly in the manga - willing to destroy himself if it protects Link. Link is forced to fight not just an ancient evil - but one of the closest friends he's ever made besides Tetra, and one of the few adult figures he respects. To fight Linebeck is to potientially lose another mentor as was with The King of Red Lions

Bellumbeck is so… he really stands out from pretty much all of the other final bosses and its so cool- and it’s like you say, Bellumbeck is not just some final form of varying flavors of Evil Thing or a dangerous character whose defeat the world would benefit from, that’s your fucking friend. It doesn't feel heroic like other final bosses, it feels like a desperate fight for the survival of you and your friends.

Linebeck being capable of fighting back or otherwise resisting Bellum is an interesting one; definitely a fun way to give him some sort of agency or role to play, suggesting that he may be fighting against Bellum just as hard as Link is. I think I've seen some people suggest that the slight hesitation or pause before some of Bellumbeck's attacks may be caused by Linebeck trying to stop himself (like the manga shows him doing).

I absolutely ADORE the idea that Bellumbeck uses a spin attack because it's something that Linebeck has seen Link do. The idea that it might be unconscious, or something Bellum just happened to pick up on from Linebeck's memories... UGH it's good no matter how you justify it.

On the other hand, I personally don't see how Linebeck fighting back would've had an effect on Bellum restraining rather than killing Ciela. I understand stuff like a hitch in the attacks or unconsciously influencing what attacks are made, since all of that is stuff that Linebeck has a direct (though unwilling) hand in, but Bellum grabbing Ciela is something that... Bellum individually does. I don't imagine that Linebeck would be able to have any ability to influence what Bellum himself does, especially considering that even if he can affect the part he's directly involved in it's only ever a small effect. Bellum restraining rather than killing Ciela is, I think, a deliberate choice on Bellum's part without any input from Linebeck, and honestly even that way it's still interesting to think about.

The manga's take on events is interesting, especially with the idea that, to some degree, Linebeck was able to overpower Bellum in order to move how he wanted (even though it was clearly limited to only specific parts and with clear difficulty) and the idea that he'd do... well, anything he can to ensure Link's safety is pretty good.

The general concept of a Link having to fight a possessed person isn't really new and wasn't new when Phantom Hourglass rolled around, but I honestly think ph did it best, holy shit. Link having to fight a close friend and someone in a role akin to a mentor to him is already one hell of a devastating setup, but one extra thing I've seen others point out is that the Bellumbeck fight is the second time Link's be faced with a sword fight with another human, and he ended the first one by killing his opponent. So, that's a fun correlation for Link to make during this fight!

Bellumbeck is just... it's such a cool, unique battle even compared to the other final bosses, and while it may fall short in difficulty or gameplay, it has some fantastic music and all of the story and character surrounding it is honestly amazing.

[solivanscollective]

✮⋆˙ Intro! Please read!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Hi! Welcome to the blog! I like to call this the Sol-Verse ask blog for short, And it includes all my characters from my two stories:

WTDWYB

And...

Divinity!

๋࣭ ⭑⚝✮⋆˙๋࣭ ⭑⚝✮⋆˙.

✦.── ?¿ What are these two stories ¿? ── .✦

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ WTDWYB: A polyam romance series! It focuses on the POV of Hisashi Ayumu and His friends, Yanami, Jay, And Connor when the four of them run into eachother at a college for rehabilitation and helping people in lower class societies or situations fix their behaviors to make successful careers! Hisashi, Having D.I.D and OCD, Believes he can't find love. Though, It's very quickly proven wrong that he can not only find love, But three of them aswell!

✮⋆˙ Divinity: A mix of an older teen/young adult slice of life book and mythological fantasy, Focused on 5 main characters perspectives as they not only find out they were never human from the start, But they're the next generation of gods and godesses! Those five and a group of others their age team up to survive for the last 'normal' year of their lifes, Balancing training to control the universe with hiding that fact from everyone else they know!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

?¿ What kind of questions can we ask or not ¿?

Questions of all kinds are allowed! Aslong as its not weird weird, Like bringing up ¡ncest...Ugh. Questions of NSFW nature will have a specific tag, #Sol's-Divinity-NSFW or #Sol's-WTDWYB-NSFW !

Other than that, Ask away! If your question doesn't get posted, Ask about it! It could either be that it was against a boundary, But we won't hold that against you unless it was ACTUALLY that bad!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

?¿ Which Characters are taking questions ¿?

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ WTBWYB:

Hisashi Ayumu, AKA Hisa: A half-korean guy, He/It, born Male. Cooking major, 23 years old. Has D.I.D, But only one Alter, Sashi. Sashi does not take questions, But if asked one anyway, Hisa will answer for him!

Yanami.M : Japanese, He/They, Born Male. Digital art major, 21 years old. Answers less frequently. (He's lazy.)

Jay Berret: Peruvian, Switches between all pronouns, Born male. Fashion Major, 22 years old. Answers almost always, But sometimes Connor will answer for him.

Connor Noceda: Half-Mexican, He/She, Born male. Programming Major. 22 and ½ years old. Takes asks, And answers if one of the other three doesn't.

Miya Hanamura: Korean, She/Her, Born Female. Law Major. 21 and ½ years old. Almost always answers. Otherwise, Irene does.

Irene Vendeta: African American, She/Her, Born Female. Literature Major. 21 years old. Always answers.

Yuzuru.M: Japanese, She/It, Born Female. Music Major. 21 years old. Always answers, If not, Yanami does.

Others: Matthew, Drew, Jonathan, Coraline, Casey, Jennie, Kenili

.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖

✮⋆˙Divinity:

Vixen Carrion: African American, 18, Goddess of Love, Beauty, Death, and Music. She/Her, Born female. Always answers, And often has Ziggy answer for her if not.

Corodite 'Ziggy' Igero: Half Japanese, Half Polish, 19, God of Water, Illness, Chaos, And destruction. Sometimes ignores questions, In which Vixen or His younger siblings answer. Is also dyslexic, So often spells wrong when answering without help.

Aidlyn Venson: American, 18 and ½, Godess of Mystery, Fire, Light, and the sun. 50/50 if she'll answer or have Vixen or T.J do it for her.

T.J Escarra: Unspecified Hispanic, 18, God of War, The Weather, and disasters. Either him or Aidlyn responds.

Hazel Quinera: African American, No age(?), Goddess of Nature, Creativity, Animals, And Expression. Rarely answers for herself because she has little knowlege of how computers work.

Nero: No last name?? Polish, No age(?), Goddess of Wisdom, Power, and Control. Always answers for herself unless question offends her.

Erica and Erin Igero: Twins, Part Polish and Blasian. 18 years old(?). Oracles who have limited abilities to control the past, future, and are minor gods of trickery and lies. Always answer unless Ziggy forces them not to.

Other: Michela, Mrs.Igero, Mrs.Venson, Mrs.Carrion, Mr. Carrion, Mr. Quinera.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝✮⋆˙๋࣭ ⭑⚝✮⋆˙๋࣭ ⭑⚝✮⋆˙๋࣭

DNI!: Pr0shippers, Harrassment, Rac¡sts, Homophobia/Transphobia, Basic DNI criteria.

Other Info:

𑁍ࠬܓ𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ ɞ Divinity and WTDWYB are, of course, Set in different series! Though occasionally, Crossover asks are welcome! Events will also start happening once more follows, asks, and such happen! Characters sometimes have posts durings their B-Days aswell!

Its nice to meet everyone! Safe travels, and Happy asking! <3

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #62

I said that I might go over some more techniques that I like to use in order to keep my memories and emotions in check. Today I made use of one, so I figured I might as well go over how it works.

I did dishes today, which might not seem like a huge accomplishment at first glance, but given that one of my ribs is out of place on the right side, doing anything that moves the right shoulder typically generates a lot of pain for me; I have to be very careful of how I move, or else it'll start to feel like someone is trying to tear my shoulder blade and my collarbone right out of my body.

Today I was having a bit less pain than usual, so I decided to do the dishes. They've been piling up, and I wanna cook something soon, and it's easier to cook things if the sink is empty, because then I can just put things in there without worrying about it becoming overcrowded. Also, if you're making pasta, the sink has to be empty and scrubbed down so that you can put the pasta strainer on the bottom without worrying about things getting icky.

Unfortunately, I have a lot of trauma when it comes to doing house chores. So if I'm not very careful about keeping my memories in check, my brain will start to wander over to the past, and memories of being screamed at for not doing a good enough job will creep into my mind. The memory of my mother evaluating my work and then berating me for it still looms over me whenever I do anything related to cleaning my house, and if I'm not careful, the feeling of tension will make me forget that I'm not in that world anymore. No one here cares if I miss a speck of dust on the carpet while vacuuming. No one here cares if they find a spot of hard water or even a speck of food on a plate that I washed; they'll just put it back into the sink to be washed again like sane, healthy people - WITHOUT accusing me of being an "ungrateful little fuck" who "is trying to give the whole house botulism" and threatening to send me back to my father's house so that my stepmother can "beat my ass into shape".

As you might guess, housework is very triggering for me. But I can't just not do it. So that means I have to find a way to keep my brain's adrenaline response from going haywire. And make no mistake, I will get an adrenaline response, because my body still remembers the time when nothing I ever did was good enough (even if it was "clean enough", I could always do it "faster" or "more efficiently", and just… ugh… I couldn't win in those days…).

But just because you get an adrenaline response doesn't necessarily mean you have to allow it to rule you. If you know that one is gonna come up, then there's a variety of things you can do to keep it in check and function through it.

The basic premise is that when the adrenaline response begins, the amygdala essentially shuts down the higher thinking parts of the brain in favor of prioritizing one's survival instincts. Anything that one does often enough can end up becoming hard-wired into one's instinctual behavior. So if, for example, you have to fight often in order to survive, the motions eventually become second nature - hard-wired into our instincts so that we don't have to think about it in order to do it with the kind of automaticity required to minimize any hesitation that might kill us. This is precisely why the amygdala will shut down the brain's higher functions; it diverts all resources to itself in order to maximize its speed and efficiency, because the brain has only a limited amount of CPU, so to speak; it can't do a whole lot at once.

Now, normally, if an adrenaline response is unwarranted, the hippocampus (a part of the brain that deals with things like memory encoding and retrieval, and a handful of other stuff) will step up and say, "Yo, come on now, cut it out." And then the amygdala is supposed to be all like, "Oh snap! My bad! Sorry, B! I'll go right back to chillin'."

Unfortunately, for those of us with trauma, we have this giant, beefy amygdala that operates on a hair trigger, and a small, underdeveloped hippocampus that can do fuck-all about it. This is because adrenaline and cortisol (stress hormones, fun fun) are actively neurotoxic; if you live in a situation where you have stress hormones coursing through your body all the time, they will break down other parts of the brain while the over-used amygdala gets super strong and sensitized. Yay, neuroscience, I guess.

So, when one is triggered to the point of being in an adrenaline state, higher functions such as "logical thinking", "empathy", "language processing", "critical thinking", "emotional regulation" and all that fun stuff… these are the first things that the amygdala will toss right out the damn window. This is not a "willpower" thing. It's not a "moral failing". This is basic human biology. It is chemistry and physics. Thinking like a person can "willpower" themselves out of an adrenaline activation is like thinking they can stab themselves in the neck and "willpower" themselves to not bleed out. It's just not how this stuff works.

So for me, in order to survive in the world I was raised in, my instincts became "dissociate" or "lash out in the same way that my caregivers used to lash out at me". These became my instincts because I've either witnessed them or have had to do them countless times. It is literally ground into my brain wiring now. If I'm not very careful, my body will do these things with an automaticity that I have little control over and very much do not like, even though these things are no longer the appropriate thing to do in any of my situations anymore.

…For you, it's combat. It's eliminating the enemy quickly and with prejudice. You have had no choice but to do these things countless times in order to stay alive, so by now, it's ground into your brain wiring. So for someone like you, if you get sufficiently adrenaline-activated, your body is simply going to do the thing that it knows, and the whole time, your awareness is only going to be partially there as you go through the motions of the neural pathway you've been forced to blaze thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of times, even if that's not the appropriate thing to do in a given situation.

…Complex PTSD is SUPER ANNOYING like that. It's absolute fucking garbage. It's like doing an involuntary time travel to your worst possible memories anytime you get stressed out. There's not a whole lot to be done with it other than to manage it, and fortunately, there are LOTS of ways to manage it. You can grind new instincts into your amygdala through deliberately practicing better things, and you can keep choosing the new thing until your brain has no choice but to prune away the connections of the old response. It takes years to do (because it took years to build those neural pathways to begin with), but it's work worth doing.

So, nowadays, when I gotta do housework, I will first weaken my amygdala by putting on tunes and singing as loudly as I can. I'll explain how this works:

Remember when I said that a brain has only limited CPU? It really can only do a few things at once. Singing forces us to activate the speech and language centers of the brain, as well as the creative centers, audio processing centers, and fine motor coordination centers (most people don't think about this, but the coordination required to move the mouth and tongue to speak is absolutely fucking insane). It also forces a person to be intentional and deliberate about their breath; one cannot sing well without being very mindful about breathing deeply and keeping the airways open. If you'll recall, I talked about why breath is important in my previous letter. Singing truly is the most perfect tool for preventing adrenaline activation and flashbacks.

So I'll do the dishes, and my amygdala is gonna try being all like, "ohhh, here we go again; we're about to get our ass handed to us, better sound ALL the alarms before we get got," because that's what it does every goddamn time. Except, I'm already gonna be belting out "City Ruins - Rays of Light" from Nier:Automata, and so my amygdala is not going to have the resources it needs to overpower everything else, because I'm forcing my higher functions to remain active and keeping my breath under control:

I wonder if you noticed the parts where I suddenly became aware that I am recording myself and quavered. I posted it anyway, because it doesn't have to be perfect to be worthwhile. This video should be proof enough that you don't have to be good at singing in order to use this coping skill.

So, I'm sometimes still left with a vaguely uneasy feeling while I do the tasks (this is unpleasant, but manageable), but at very least, my amygdala won't be able to hijack the rest of my brain in service to a narrative that no longer exists, for the purpose of keeping me safe from threats that are no longer present. I like to think that this bit of brain hackery is pretty swanky! Don't you think so, too?

I think that's all I've got for writing today. I had a lovely visitor at my house - a very dear friend of mine - who needed a safe place to help him deal with a situation he's having. I won't get into the details. But I am glad that my house is a safe place where those who are having a difficult time feel like they can go to get a bit of reprieve. I thought I was going to go to the grocery today, but I think I'll do that tomorrow instead.

Remember that you're loved, and please stay safe.

You'll hear from me again soon, I promise.

Your friend, Lumine

[gffa]

Do you ever get tired of people rolling out the same ice-cold takes to respond to your posts like I don't even know how you deal with it. The number of people who refuse to learn what 'attachment' is defined as... Ugh.

I sat on this response for a month, so I could wait until I was in a better headspace for it, and it hasn't been too badly lately. We'll see how it goes with Mandalorian fandom heating up, god knows that part of fandom is always Uh Interesting. Anyway, yeah, I get tired of this all the time. It's really hard not to ping-pong back and forth between "this has sapped any enjoyment I used to have because I can't even post on my own blog without people getting in my face about it" and "well, now that I know it bothers people, I do believe it's time to double down on my affection for the characters and enjoying them the way I want to enjoy them". There's a real inability in Star Wars fandom (not limited to it, but it does feel more intense here ime) to let others have their enjoyment and not feel like its their business to weigh in on that. There's a real inability to set aside your own opinions to talk to someone or interact with them, like this fandom just has to complain about any thing that bothers them even slightly. I get it, people have ice cold takes, they refuse to learn context about aspects of the show, and it's exhausting, but generally as long as they treat real people with respect, I know where my scroll button is. It's when someone can't stop themselves from interacting with my posts, can't agree to live and let live, that I want them to get the hell away from me. I have almost no patience left for it anymore. I don't get mad so much as I just refuse to engage with it anymore, I'm done engaging with bad faith readings, I'm done engaging with people who constantly complain about other fans "doing fandom wrong" (when it's about preferences, not actually any pressing social issue), I've spent my time in those mines, and I'm so tired of it.