#but i also fear him to an incomprehensible level

[dazaistabletop]

In honor of bsd s5 coming out in a few days, let's vote

[lyhil]

Nightmares and Dreams that Haunt the Night Commander Harukehn - @harukehn

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Danny the Guy Who Won't Die

He lives in Gotham, and he is just A Guy. Nothing weird about him, he's just there to study/work/help Lady Gotham to lift her curse/on vacation with Sam. Point is, he is not there to cause trouble and there's no GIW on his tail. Just a dude living his (after)life.

And Gotham, being Gotham, still finds a way to be annoying. There are mugging attempts, robbery, Rogues running around. Only Danny really doesn't want to deal with any of it.

Now there's a dilemma. If he uses his powers to fight, it will sooner or later come to Bats' attention. And if he fights as a human, it will also alert some of the Bats since he doesn't really do a great job at keeping his power levels low. Not to mention the fact he is really not enthusiastic about accidentally punching someone hard enough he sends them to a hospital.

What does he do instead? He pulls the 'I guess I'll die' act.

So every time he is attacked, he just plays dead. The mugger shot him in the chest? He falls down and stops breathing. Caught up in the middle of a Poison Ivy attack? Skewers himself on the vine and goes lax. Scarecrow's Fear Gas? Very dramatically chokes himself and plays a corpse. He makes sure to disappear before any ambulances arrive later, and it all goes well for a few months - he is just a casualty, who cares, really - until one day, he runs into that same mugger who shot him in the chest a while ago.

The man does a double take. Danny doesn't notice - he's been mugged so many times, who has the brain capacity to remember all of those fuckers. But the rumor goes out anyway.

A guy-who-won't-die. It's more of a city legend, really, and the Bats don't give it much thought since, well, it sounds stupid and not very important. A rumor of some man who was shot dead and then showed up like nothing happened? Yeah, it's probably because the mugger didn't check if he was actually dead. That happens. Maybe it wasn't even the same man, Gotham is a big city. If anything, hey, at least that was one less casualty? That's a good thing.

That is, until one day, they show up to Joker's hostage situation and witness the clown screaming at one of the hostages. He is so enraged he is shaking, spit flying out of his mouth, and, contrary to the usual Joker's evil sneers and maniacal laughter, he seems just... furious. But, like, the normal-human-level furious. The 'I just lost the last ounce of patience with you' furious.

"Don't you look away from me, you think I don't remember you?! Na-ah, I do. You were the one I drowned in the shark tank last week! And you were the one run through the chainsaw trap two weeks before that! And you were in the guillotine!!! I saw your fucking head get deattached from your body, how the fuck are you here again?!"

And the guy he is screaming at just looks at him, confused and incomprehensive.

"Um, I'm pretty sure I'd remember getting my head cut off, you know? So, err, wrong guy."

"Wrong guy my fucking ass-"

Joker is so distracted by his screaming match that it makes it almost too easy for the Bats to fight him down and drag to Arkham. Yet, a few of them get just a bit suspicious.

Now, imagine all the shenanigans when they try keeping a watch on Danny the Won't Die Guy.

[idiotmf]

Moving into a house infested by shadow demons

I may have this recent obsession with my newest creation for random blurbs I write, but... hear me out while I dump random information on you that you didn't ask for... (also NSFW, minors scram)

Shadow demons are beings made of, well, shadows. They can hide in yours or manifest as anything they want, shape-shifters if you will.

Since they are beings made of shadows, they cannot catch light, therefore they are a little hard to make out, often appearing more as a silhouette but they do have very distinctive, glowing eyes.

Very original, I know.

Now... They infest houses, apartments or just general areas. They're typically regarded as low level demons, as they are bound to the area they infest, feeding off of human emotions; specifically strong emotions like fear, hopelessness and, most importantly, lust.

I currently have two shadow demons that I adore writing about and they are... Well, I feel like they would hate each other.

× Aryllus

Aryllus is a sweetheart. He isn't interested in feeding off of emotions. He finds life fascinating, he loves spending his endless time reading, observing the animals and humans outside this old brick cottage that he can't leave.

He's very blunt and emotionally not the most intelligent but he makes up for it with his academic intellect. He's been trapped here for a century, maybe two. He doesn't know. Time is of no concept to demons, after all.

He's also shy at first. He doesn't want to be discovered by humans. He dislikes being treated like a pest or an inconvenience, so he would rather starve for all eternity than be viewed as a monster.

When you do discover him, and you don't seem afraid of him, he rejoices. He's patient and gentle in every interaction, thinking he has no morals as a demon but very clearly being a kind entity.

But... be careful, even if a shadow demon's primary food is emotions, Aryllus will probably steal your sandwich. And then try to eat the plastic it came in. (-_-')

And then there is...

× Oryllion

Oryllion is heartless, manipulative and possessive. His only interest lies in breaking the inhabitants of his infested house, making them his mindless little toys for his insatiable hunger.

His preferred method is keeping you in a constant state of arousal by any means necessary. You're working on something? Too bad, he's eating you out/ sucking you off under the table. You want to leave? No, he's tying you up with his tendrils and attaching little suckers to your nipples until you scream in agony and pleasure.

He's dominant and degrading, never once uttering your name. You're merely his pet or his toy. His eyes, while nothing more than glowing white orbs, show disgust with you. Even while he shapes his body into the most incomprehensible shape, writhing with obscene appendages and a sheer endless amount of limbs just to force you to orgasm for his next feast, he clearly looks down on you. Humiliation is a part of the fun for him.

But... As much as he wishes, even Oryllion can't fuck everyone into submission. Occasionally, families will move into his domain, much to his dismay.

But hey, at least he gets to traumatize children with his SFW Eldritch horror shapes for a quick snack.

[tallykale]

episode 19

as you can probably tell, i've thought a lot about what post-canon one would look like in my vision... i've said before that i have issues with straightforward fix-its, and i do genuinely love the tragic open-ended conclusion that the series has, but i... am not immune to playing with characters like dolls LOL

here's some writeups about where everyone is at mentally in these pictures. please please please PLEEEASE feel free to ask me more about this cuz i love talking about my beautiful mind palace

charlotte: somehow the most optimistic person in here, mostly out of necessity. when she died, she saw parker leading her out of a cave as her waiting room and was about to take his hand when airy respawned her, so she has a brief moment of bonding with bryce when he talks about the waiting room and seeing stella. with the knowledge that there is potentially a way to get out (bryce and liam being the proof) and the fear of rotting away again she is by far the most actively motivated to help liam figure out the computer. a lot of her days are spent talking to liam over the mic and writing out the code in the dirt so she can try to understand it. she still has to push against her natural misanthropy (and often shouts at liam or bryce for being fucking stupid and useless) but both working on the code and helping amelia give her something concrete to focus on outside herself. she wants to get home so she can make amends with her friends. charlotte is scared of dying! she's really genuinely horribly scared of dying and has awful vivid nightmares about rotting away. she often pushes amelia into talking about her life which causes some tension, but it's because she really hates seeing amelia lose herself like that - a metaphorical rotting away of the self.

subway seat & atom: not on the same level of pure existential depression as the batch 1 contestants, but they both feel the hopeless mood pretty harshly regardless. subway feels very lonely as the only hidden object still 'awake', and likes to carry whippy creamy around rather than just leave him sitting on the ground constantly. tray is too big and unwieldy for him to do that with, but he 'hangs out' with her anyway, talking to her and whippy creamy in the hopes that it'll get them to want to wake up again. atom doesn't talk much, but he still carries his piece of grass. he's definitely the person who's the least affected by the prospect of being stuck on the plane forever, since he… doesn't really perceive existence in the same way as everyone else? he's an atom. but his time in the competition definitely made him view everyone else as friends, and he feels even more powerless than usual in the face of this incomprehensibly difficult problem.

amelia: falls into total hopelessness when bryce rejoins, basically seeing it as the final sign that they're never going home. still calls everyone their competition names (she actually gets into a big fight with bryce about it lol). she gets really clingy and dependent on bryce when he first comes back but it crashes and burns pretty quickly when, during an argument, bryce tells her how much he wishes he could just go back and never have let liam in and forgot about everything… which really sucks for amelia to hear, given that she's part of that everything. after that, with bryce isolating himself, she's kind of reliant on charlotte to keep her going. she blames liam for airy dying and secretly kind of thinks he killed him but just isn't telling them… she also doesn't really believe there's any way of getting out and is just kind of waiting around to die of, like, old age i guess. after how long she's been here, amelia is convinced that she has nothing to even go back to and frequently forgets details about her life. regularly cries and hates being alone. the shift markings on the side of the water tub have changed from being a way to keep track of time and stay sane to a horrible reminder of how long they've been here and how much longer of an eternity they have before them.

bryce: hates himself and liam and airy and the plane and his entire stupid fucking life. bryce is really, really fucking pissed off at liam for losing the notes and letting texty die and every other mistake he's made, and isn't shy about telling him that. as well as being angry, he's also incredibly miserable, because he was finally starting to turn his life around (he quit drinking after the plane) and now it's all for nothing - and even worse, those 7 months he spent getting better were 7 months he did nothing to help the rest of them, especially amelia. he's horribly guilty about that, and that he didn't tell amelia about the fake votes before he was eliminated… but finds it easier to just let liam take the heat for that one at first. after he fights with amelia about it he becomes a bit of a hermit, hanging out by himself next to the plug, and never responds when liam tries to talk. contemplates suicide regularly but pretty much the only option is drowning himself, and the idea of that still scares him more than staying like this forever. would kill for a beer.

liam: tortured by horrible guilt every day over a million different things. these include getting bryce pulled back into this (plus delayed guilt over getting him for real killed), letting texty die and not saying anything about the charger, not telling amelia that everything was fake, knowing that charlotte is going to die if he doesn't get really smart really fast… he's frequently gripped by fits of rage where he almost smashes the computer and has to hobble around outside with the axe for a while to blow off steam. he has really bad nightmares and dissociative episodes, made worse by the isolation and spending hours in a dark cave. liam really wants to fix things with everyone but genuinely has no idea how to start that conversation. he assumes airy killed himself (and views it as an unforgiveably cowardly move) and directs a lot of resentment towards him. he has a lot of things he wants to say, especially to bryce, but the fact that he cant talk to anybody one on one makes things difficult. spends a lot of time just reading through the code, too afraid to actually make any changes in case everyone explodes, but talking it through with charlotte at least makes him feel like he's doing something. more than he would like to admit, liam catches himself staring at the plane as if it's a simulation or a livestream.

[intermundia]

so starting around page 375 in revenge of the sith, the book begins to bleed highlighter from the amount of psychic damage i was taking while reading it. it's one thing to see on screen and another thing to peel back the visual to stare directly at obi-wan's mind as he takes in something incomprehensibly painful.

just.... twisting the knife!! it was only a week since the conversation where anakin apologized about his arrogance and wished him well!! since then obi-wan has been shot at by his friends and had to walk through the halls of his home strewn with the bodies of his slain family, but it is seeing the truth about anakin that makes him give in to despair.

it's a good thing that yoda is there, for all his brutal honesty. "Make a Jedi fall, one cannot; beyond even Lord Sidious, this is. Chose this, Skywalker did." i love how explicitly clear he makes this for obi-wan, not letting him evade the truth: anakin did it on purpose. nobody forced him to do it, sidious merely invited him forward but he took the step, and "why matters not" because there is no excuse, no valid, acceptable, or moral rationale for what he's done.

"out of his misery, you must put him." while i think yoda is right to associate anakin's potent mixture of fear, anger, and suffering with misery, there is also some level of dramatic irony in these words from the audience knowing that obi-wan's confrontation with anakin on mustafar will do the exact opposite of that, putting anakin in far more misery than most human beings could possibly withstand.

[rainyinautumn]

alright with wild life ep. 4 coming out soon it's time for me to start talking winner predictions. in order to understand my bet, let's first understand why past winners won—and, for bonus effect, why another player who I think really had a shot ultimately lost.

GRIAN. The traffic crown typically falls on the head of whichever player is most able to bend and break the rules to their advantage. 3rd Life, as the archetypal Life Series with the fewest rules to manipulate, was won by the man who understood (and broke) them best—their inventor. Throughout the series, I think Impulse demonstrated a similar cunning and could have been able to pull off a win. His error was failing to establish trust with his allies in a series that was defined by its faction loyalty.

SCOTT. With the introduction of the Boogeyman, Last Life demanded a winner with a level head. With favorable relationships paving the path to regaining lives, there was very little wiggle room for more aggressive, risk-taking players, making this season favor players with high survivability. Continuing the trend of rule breakers, Scott was the only player to weigh the odds and refuse to act on the Boogeyman curse—which ultimately paid off for him. Similarly calculating and loyal is Etho, who lost this win by aligning himself with a volatile group that failed to lend him the stability Scott had throughout the series.

PEARL. It was so, so much easier to die in Double Life than any other series, and so its winner was the player who proved to be able to survive without a soulmate at all. The thing about Life Series gimmicks is that they are always, always the thing that kills you—as such, refusing to engage with them as intended elevates one's chances of victory. Such is the case with Pearl. Cleo also failed to engage with the Double Life mechanic as intended, but lost (ironically) due to her ability to forgive and the endgame belief that aligning with her soulmate was the wisest move.

MARTYN. Limited Life introduced the ability to live longer by killing, and as such encouraged players to pursue maximal violence with minimal risk through traps (namely, falling TNT minecarts). If playing by these rules led to a win, the victor would have been crowned on Skynet. Instead, Martyn broke the season-long strategy and a few series expectations along the way to opt for an absolutely brutal PvP win, which he pulled off by being the only one crazy enough to try. A good few other risk takers had a solid shot of winning this season—namely Joel. Unlike Martyn, however, Joel was unwilling to gamble with the permanent death of his teammates, and this soft spot led to his demise.

SCAR. On the surface level, Secret Life's gimmick asked its contestants to be good at the game—to be good at keeping their mouths shut, good at following directions, and good at reading other players. The kicker with all of the tasks, however, is that the gimmick is the thing that kills you, and what the tasks actually asked was for players to be bad at the game in one way or another. This made earnest attempts at success by far the most risky path forward (especially once yellow names started being able to guess tasks), and as such, Scar's continually baffling behavior worked in his favor. Similarly incomprehensible, Skizz's playstyle lent itself well to this series—however, he was simply too likable. The secretive nature of the tasks in this season brewed a hostile atmosphere in which trustworthiness made one a threat, and the Heart Foundation painted a target on him that he was unable to shed.

So. Who do I think is winning (and almost winning) Wild Life?

GEM. Of all the players in the Snailpocalypse, Gem was the only one to doggedly refuse to fear and avoid her snail. Wild Life is designed to breed uncertainty and chaos in its players, and her refusal to give in to this makes her a good contender for the crown. However, other players have begun to notice this, which could place her in hot water. My second winner pick is BigB—although more willing to engage with the wildcards, BigB has always thrived in the strange and peculiar, making him less outright afraid of them and putting him in position to potentially rise above them down the line.

[writingforatwistedworld]

Another bread era?

Otome au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, obsession, possessiveness, stalking, threats, death, murder

Malleus Draconia/Lilia Vanrouge-“I’m gonna take your bread sir… let me take your bread SIR SIR STOP WALKING AWAY FROM ME SIR!!!??”

Malleus Draconia, the hidden king behind the roses, a legend who even the highest of kings and queens whisper in fear about... is holding back a laugh from watching you

Ok, to be fair, you can only do so much as a ruler of a Kingdom which has been isolated from the others for so long which probably also resulted him in being a bit (or maybe a lot more than a bit) for social interactions

Malleus adores you to a level which is incomprehensible for the ordinary human mind. Heck, most likely for any mind

Yet his most beloved is at the moment pretty much the opposite of him. Most unelegant they screamed at the poor bakers of the Queendom of Roses for their bread

Not like those humans, pardon, NPCs could hear you but it was a rather silly sight to see you sprinting up to the next person like you were possessed and demanding their bread

Could it be that there was a famine that led to you now demanding the food of others? But why especially bread? (I am not joking he is seriously asking himself that)

After sending Lilia out to check, just to be sure, he finally found out that no, you are not on the path of starvation, you are just silly

Might as well enjoy the show then. It's not every day that you see an otherworldly bring controlling a body being this interesting... not like he had seen another bodysnatcher like you before

When he noticed the havoc you caused in your wake he could not hold it back anymore, bursting into laughter he swiped tears of joy from his cheeks

Why this moment was so funny to him was beyond him. Perhaps it was that small memory of another place far in the past, a human from another world, a room filled with all kinds of individuals enjoying their rather mediocre meal together

Perhaps he should humor you

Sending out Lilia yet again (the poor bas-) he ordered that you were brought a basket filled with the finest sentiment of breads

Soft bread, hard bread, bread with seeds, bread with a crunchy crust, bread that tasted spicy and much, much more

When that NPC tried to trade all that bread for a meager price which could barely feed a person for a day the oh-so-lighthearted atmosphere shifted immediately into something that can only be described by “Oh f, he did it”

“Lilia, when was the last time you sharpened your blade?” “Pardon?”

But hey, at e end off the day you had still your bread and everything was great and fine and dandy and yay and oh my god someone just got killed in a PG-13 game what the heck is going on??!

Lilia is someone who takes his duties very seriously

Be it conveying messages to all those that have paid the price of his ruler's benevolence or monitoring the one who connects the one controlling them and this world

At first, Lilia assumed that the one controlling the puppet wearing white and blue would be a cold-hearted tyrant who loved to watch an entire world being nothing more than a game to them

But then...

“SIR GIMME UR BREAAAAAD!” A most frightening battle cry, Lilia nearly fell off from the tree branch he was dangling from when he first heard it

Were you finally setting out to conquer this world? Was it finally time to draw his sword and- uh... huh? *Insert confused expression*

Instead of attacking a defenseless person you sprinted to the next one, repeating the same actions you did just a second ago

The general had expected something of a crueler nature, just how the Gods were at the dawn, not someone jumping up and down whilst demanding bread

But perhaps, this could be used to his benefit?

The next day you found a new NPC. How strange, haven't you walked down this path in the game many times before? His did you miss him?

Interacting with the young man you found out that he was a baker who specialised in bread

How funny! You made a show of wanting bread just yesterday

It was almost like the game was interacting with your real-life self... Nah. Must be your imagination

To your delight, the dialogue seemed to change every single day, ending with the baker telling you stories far too dangerous for a normal person like him to experience

Every following day the interactions with the young man became more and more interesting, and by interesting I mean they went more and more off the grid

Lilia had to tell you more stories from the past he could still remember. This started with him investigating by talking to you but after time, he got attached. What if you were to move on and leave him behind from boredom? After some time his filter started to stop much less from his past than before. Things that he would have sugar-coated before we're now on full display.

Just don't turn your affection to somebody else. You were such a refreshing new sight that he simply had to own your attention

Now now, play nice and do what he says. Otherwise you might find a few NPCs missing

[sepublic]

No but the way Pucci being Christian is so intertwined with his motives as a villain... He’s every story I’ve heard of the Christian convert who suffered something horrible and senseless, and after drifting through life lost and without a sense of purpose, found hope by believing in God. He’s so many stories of tragedy I’ve seen where people managed to cope by finding peace in the idea that this is all part of God’s divine, incomprehensible plan; It’s fate, it’s his will, and by accepting it they can move on. It’s for a reason, even if they’ll never understand what they’re looking at.

That’s what Heaven is for Pucci; His core trauma is a series of horrific coincidences with no rhyme or reason, and so he latches onto the idea that it’s all part of “his” plan, God and/or DIO’s. That’s why he finds comfort in knowing the future, knowing it’s all in the hands of Fate and removing his own blame and agency, which is why the narrator asks the viewer to judge for ourselves who did wrong, when we see the backstory of Wes, Enrico, and Perla. Pucci made a decision and it backfired horribly, so he doesn’t want to choose anymore.

It’s the way Pucci’s desire to be the messianic hero screws him over and causes tragedy; He’s so devoted to his position as a priest that rather than sabotaging it in order to just tell Perla the truth to her face (thus breaking the rules of the confessional), Pucci relies on this roundabout method so he can have it both ways, only to cause heartbreak and death. Pucci is so desperate to save humanity to make up for his own guilt and failure that he resets the universe, making him the worst kind of evil in his brother’s eyes; One totally oblivious to its nature. Pucci begs to die a martyr from Weather Report and Emporio, rather than just dying here and now.

Ungalo and Rikiel are prepared to die for Pucci once he gives them a sense of purpose to all of the inexplicable misfortune in their lives; Versus is also emboldened by this realization, but chooses to weaponize it for himself. The sons of DIO are people who all went through misfortune their whole lives, they’re ‘children of God’ who find comfort in devoting themselves to something they can actually believe in, that they believe will take care of them in some way; Like many Christians following the path of God, believing Heaven is waiting for them at the end of the tribulation and that it will all be worth it, that it all meant something and mattered and served a cause, like them. 

Pucci and the sons of DIO can no longer bear the pain and uncertainty of moving forward, so they aspire, Pucci especially, for a world where fate will move things along for them. They don’t have to take the first step, especially not Pucci, when Made in Heaven’s reset will compel him and everyone else to do what’s fated, regardless of what they try. 

Pucci fears and admires the courage of the Joestars who are able to step forward and face fate, engage and grapple with it, rather than just blindly accept and surrender in despair. If Diavolo precedes Pucci as someone too resistant of fate, Pucci is the opposite; Someone too resigned to it. Unlike the Joestars who know their fate but can work with what’s written in stone to change the other details. 

It’s why Pucci admires the first human to try a mushroom despite knowing it could kill them; But rather than put in the effort to get up to their level, Pucci would rather everyone stoop to his own, and claims he’s just sparing people noble yet needless pain (He’s only sparing himself by avoiding the reminder that he could and should be braver than this). He says he pities the human who tried a mushroom, adding that they were probably only motivated by hunger and desperation, and had no choice anyway.

I think Pucci is secretly envious of that courage, and that’s why he always downplays it afterwards by suggesting it’s foolishness rather than bravery. Pride, Envy, Wrath... Sloth given his despair, and a bit of Greed with the $800 dollar pants. Then there’s the BDSM vibes of Whitesnake for Lust, all that’s missing is Gluttony, which I guess the cherries and being devoured by the Green Baby account for...?

In all seriousness, Pucci wants guidance; He surrenders himself to God, follows the instructions led by DIO, and relies on Fate to tell him what to do when Made in Heaven resets the universe. Remember that time Pucci got around his brother’s Heavy Weather by removing his sight, and forcing Anasui to guide him? Yeah.

There’s a reason why Whitesnake obsesses with preserving the past, and I think part of it boils down to Pucci being afraid of its counterpart the Future; Which Made in Heaven, not entirely unlike King Crimson, allows Pucci to speed through and glimpse, to get through the worst of it ASAP and lessen the pain. He doesn’t want to accept that sometimes things just… happen.

[werrmu]

Hot tradition with a cold boy.

warning: without a plot, mistakes because english is not my native language, not quite canon because i never figured out what his personality is, but i really want to kiss him

also one ithaqua once in a match pinned me in the wall and did not let me pass for almost 3 MINUTES while my teammates were standing in the basement;

His hands are everywhere. In your hair, held by the waist, even if it is not necessary, on your hips, pressing circles into the soft skin, intertwined with your palms. Everything he can grab onto while his lips greedily dig into yours, not giving you a chance to take a breath or at least calm your heart after a hard chase.

He is demanding, moves his lips, bites, his tongue is always the first to slide between your lips, slowly and without words forcing you to open your mouth, letting him in. He knows what he's doing and he knows you like it. Even if his own cheeks are burning with embarrassment, and his body is languishing from an unknown feeling, he always does it so skillfully with you, making your breath come off in a couple of seconds, and your legs tremble.

This tradition came to you by chance and completely unexpectedly. That day you had almost finished the last cipher when all the sounds of the chase died down, leaving you alone with the buzzing of the typewriter. The difficult match against the new hunter was coming to an end, because there was only one cipher left, which you were just working on. Your hands were typing rapidly, typing the sequence, hardly noticing anything around, until your body suddenly shuddered from the cold and the frosty wind pulled you to the hunter, leaving almost no chance to grab something, at the same second forcing you to suffocate from your own hair and pain when the icy blade of the ice drill plunges into your flesh, knocking you down.

What the hell your teammates were doing at that time and where the fuck they are when you need them so badly is unknown, but you knew that you were finished. This is the third time you've become chairman, the third time you've screwed up again. A quiet, almost girly giggle of a hunter - and here you are in the air, limply and pitifully waiting for your exclusion from the match, when suddenly instead of a chair you find yourself on a dirty cot, firmly pressing your ass to its dusty, rusty surface. His weapon rings loudly in your ear as Ithaqua leans on it, squeezing his hips between your legs, unnaturally hunched to be at the level of your face. The hunter's sky-blue eyes eagerly dig into yours, intently watching the reaction, while his fingers nervously draw circles on your skin. Excited? Why?

— You're too angry, you don't let me chase you, you constantly run away to these incomprehensible things, not letting us be alone. - Boy dramatically sighs, pouting his lips, but the mask and thick fur on his hood carefully suppresses any sounds, turning everything into a rustle when you raise your eyebrows in surprise, and fear is changed by misunderstanding. — It's my turn to play!

You open your mouth to object, or at least to clarify what he means at all, as his hands brazenly rest against you, almost bending over with his whole body to briefly kiss you on the cheek, and poking the sharp edge of his half-hidden mask right into your nose and eye, demonstrating this strange affection. which came from him out of nowhere. Your confusion and inaction seem to give him a reason and permission to act further when the guy's dry lips are completely chaotically showering your face with kisses, completely childish and almost cute, but only until he gets to your lips with burning eyes, turning this situation into something that you share in each match strictly with the priming machine.

Someday your comrades will guess why after every match with the Night Watch it is you who get the MVP, and not them, regardless of what they did in this match, but let's hope not now.

[ranticore]

Chapter 3 - To Be Phocid [Qedivar's research]

It's that time again. Ishmael is a teenage boy, fair warning.

I'm posting this on mobile so I cba linking the previous chapters but go into the siren tag to find them.

x

Following these events, and at Maris’s insistence, Ishmael began to keep a journal. To the delight of this author, his writing was deep, introspective, and highly detailed. From now on, I no longer had to rely on pieced together scraps and reports, but from a primary source. As such, the way these events are related will shift a little, but that is only for events concerning Ishmael.

Cherta, unfortunately, did not keep a journal at this time and remains frustratingly opaque, given Ishmael’s somewhat biased recounting of their activities. Although one must concede to the difficulties of keeping a journal underwater, before the age of sub-aquatic writing systems, and with eighteen other overambitious adolescents in relatively close proximity.

Ishmael’s journal was recorded on a computerified device and was not written by hand, though his deep dream education had serviced to educate him in handwriting skills. This was tested when he was younger, as part of an evaluation to determine the extent of his dexterity. Although the notion of a form of writing which is stored in a purely hypothetical space is very odd, especially in its permanency, it has enabled us to access his thoughts at this day and age, whereas traditional aquatic knot-writing would have long since rotted away.

He wrote in the language of the Predecessors, which I believe to be the root of all air-speaking language families. The translation of these texts is what has taxed me more than any other part of this process, aside from the grievous bodily harm, and it has taken a fantastic span of time to achieve this translation. I cannot credit my sources for fear of implicating them but you can be assured that the finest minds of the Spire collaborated on this project. This Predecessor tongue is what is spoken in all of the videos, enabling me to learn it to a conversational level, though I am hardly fluent.

Some of the journal is rendered untranslatable due to it referring to objects or concepts which were considered common knowledge at the time, requiring no additional definition. These concepts or objects will be clearly marked. However, I believe much of the text to be familiar to many people, telling of the frustration and longing common and recognisable today. That said, I believe it is also important not to take for granted the relatability.

Ishmael is not always familiar to us and existed in a time we would find nigh incomprehensible. Do not take this as reason to doubt his interiority or personhood, and do not fall into the trap of believing that you would have done better in his place, that you would have seen clearly what he obviously did not (and had good reason not to). They may have been phocids, or the predecessors of phocids, but they were new. If you were the first of your kind, could you do better?

I will now present the text in chronological order, starting from the eve of his sixteenth birthday:

-

Entry 1 – I hate seeing that baby siphonid. It’s still moving. It drags itself around on the leg the researchers didn’t take. Now I’m just going to remember this forever, since I wrote it down. Great. I hate that fucking noise. Why can’t they just get it to shut up?

Thank [deity]. They took it away.

Update – it didn’t even taste good.

-

Entry 2 - Maris told me to talk more about my feelings. What does she know? Nobody understands me anyway. I don’t think they can feel all that on their face like me. The sipho noise kept touching me. The researchers are always talking about hydrofoils and antennae but I bet they don’t know what I do - how the siphos talk to each other. I told Callum and he didn’t know what I meant, even though he has a beard.

Talked to Lee again about sex since Dan said he wouldn’t tell me himself. I don’t think Lee told the truth about a lot of that stuff. The other kids sometimes joke around a bit too much, but it is kinda funny I guess.

Update - Dan shouted at me for asking, but now I have proof Lee was wrong.

-

Entry 3 – The phocids click at each other underwater with their tongues.

Dan got so angry after I pulled my face hair out. He made the interns [untranslatable] search my room for the hairs and they actually found them. They didn’t even do anything with it, just put it in a bag and sealed it away. Looks like nobody wants it at all. Dan says Atom spent 120 billion nua making me, so I think one face hair is worth a few million. If I started selling them to the people outside the lab, I could buy my own stake of land on Siren just like them. I wouldn’t let Lee in. My fingers are probably worth a couple billion each.

Should I

-

Entry 4 – Emer (the intern) looked at me like I did something wrong when she changed my pillowcases.

Spilled bile EVERYWHERE when they were testing me. I keep thinking about somehow saving it and trying to sell it. I’m supposed to be a digestive model for Siren food, so my insides are probably worth a lot. I should ask Dan when he calms down.

Callum came around to talk to Dan again. He’s getting really tall, he’s taller than me now even when I stand up straight. He’s so skinny, like the baby siphonids (I can snap one in half with just my teeth now). When Callum was there, he didn’t want to look at me, but I get it. They didn’t even cook the siphonid this time, it was raw and with the shell on. His leg is the same width as one of them.

Emer won’t stop changing my pillowcases. Is there a way to prevent them from smelling like that?? Callum hasn’t been around so I can’t ask. Maris thinks it’s just because people my age start getting sweaty but Dan specifically told me he made me not have sweat glands anywhere but my hands. Then he said the phocids do have sweat glands. I still don’t get the point of sweating if you’re already a stupid wet rat who lives in the

-

Entry 5 – I’m seventeen now. Since I’m an adult, I decided to stop being reticent around the phocids. I want to know if they found a comfortable way to walk without the skin coming off their tails. So I went to talk to them today for the first time. There is a window where you can do it, they let it open ever since the climate control got busted again last month.

Cherta is really weird. I knew they couldn’t stay in the pool for very long because they might have a seizure but apparently it can happen any time, not just underwater. They have a button implant that makes their muscles relax. Anyway, their tails have thicker skin than mine so that was useless. But it is still worthwhile, I think, to meet with the phocids. They remind me why I am a human, and they are not. I kind of pity them because all they're ever going to be is a bunch of test subjects in a tiny swimming pool.

Cherta told me that one of the phocids died a year ago. I don’t remember Dan ever talking about it to me, but they said it was a big deal. Apparently they got pressure sickness when climate control broke the first time. I think Cherta broke it the second time, they sounded too proud to mention it. I don’t get it. Anyway, breaking stuff in the lab is against the rules and I think I’m going to tell Dan about that.

-

Entry 6 – I made the right choice. Cherta got so angry when they found out I told on them that they had another seizure. The other phocids had to pull them out of the pool. Dan thought I did the right thing but I don’t think he liked me going to tell Cherta about it afterwards, told me no one likes a snitch. Well, then, what am I supposed to do? Just let it happen? I hope Cherta chokes on that gross pool water next time.

Dan suggested I go do something other than visit the phocids and I agree, they’re clearly not worth my time. I went to see Callum instead but he wasn’t in. He has a games console, I saw him show it off to Lee the other day. I wonder if he’d let me try it.

[End of Journal Entries]

-

It paints an interesting picture. As Ishmael mentions, Cherta suffered permanent neurological issues as a result of their birth mishaps. This was a point of contention within the lab, beyond Ishmael’s knowledge; the finance manager of the settlement questioned the wisdom of keeping a test subject in an aquatic locomotion study group who could not spend much time underwater. Every time, however, Dan Loris would respond that Cherta now provided essential information about phocid neurology and drowning mechanisms.

The phocid whose death Ishmael mentions was number seventeen, Ambla. It is highly likely that number seventeen’s death was accidental, but the circumstances were not caused by a failure of the lab’s climate system.

I have found the experimental notes from that day; Ambla was brought to an isolated chamber which was controlled by the climate system, with its own test pool, and the quality of the atmosphere was changed to match that of the Precursor home planet. The force of gravity was thus increased. What the Humans did not expect was Ambla’s sudden inability to swim to the surface. They inhaled water, which settled in their lungs and caused them to drown even after they had been pulled out of the pool.

Dan expressed grief in his notes, and surprise. He did not understand why such a thing would occur and blamed the climate system for somehow altering the test beyond his parameters. This is likely what led to Cherta’s misconception that the climate system had killed one of their friends, and their subsequent sabotage of the climate system every few months after that.

But any phocid or selkie reading this will intimately recognise the problem, and I believe the mystery of Ambla’s death may now be solved. The water taken to fill the pool was likely Tel!am’s Blood, a phenomenon all sea-faring people will know about. The Precursors, it seemed, were unfamiliar with it, and had pumped water in to the pool which nobody could swim in. But with the increased gravity, even the fittest phocid would struggle to rise in shallow water.

Regardless, there exists a substantial gap between that last journal entry and the next. Almost a year, in fact, when Ishmael did not write at all, and neither did he participate in Maris’s therapy sessions. I do, however, have a copy of Callum’s journal with me which provides at least half of the narrative, incomplete as it is.

[maruiin]

Hi sorry if there are a lot of mistakes here my english is very bad but i hope you like this story

brief description:Grace kills Grisha faster then Inej and saving Brekker life

The plan went completely awry, so Inez, Kaz, and I split up in the corridor near the main hall. We needed to leave; we had already attracted enough attention, as almost no one had ever seen our faces. We especially raised suspicions, Inez and I, as there were few girls in the Darkling's guard. Silently walking through several corridors, we heard voices of soldiers and panicked, stopping in our tracks.

"We'll have to split up," Inez suggested, and I gladly agreed. Being caught didn't bring me any joy.

We turn left and then part ways. Inez goes left again down the corridor, while I go straight to the end, also turning to the left. My heart pounds in my chest like crazy, and I'm trembling slightly. This kind of venture is new to me; it's not about robbing a stall or pickpocketing from drunks. The Small Palace... If someone had told me before that I'd be running around the palace dressed as General Kirigan's guard, enacting a shaky plan to steal the Sun Summoner, or rather her theft, I would've laughed in disbelief.

But fate apparently decided to have its fun with me, and rather cruelly at that. We're just steps away from getting caught by the guards, perhaps later having a personal audience with the Darkling himself and becoming enemies of the country. This wasn't how I envisioned ending my seventeen-year-old life.

The corridors are eerily similar, all adorned with paintings, large windows, ornate frames, and... everything is so white, it's making me nauseous! I'm used to darkness, the dim light of a kerosene lamp, worn-out walls, and the lingering scent of alcohol in the air. The barrel was a second home for me, after all.

I glance around at every turn, looking back, and even trying not to breathe. Damn, I'm scared, and I feel like at some point, I might start believing in Saints again. I step softly on the red carpet, but then I stop abruptly. I hear a shout from behind, but it's not the voice of one of ours. I decide to take a look, so I carefully step back, pressing against the wall, returning down the corridor through an arched doorway.

I only manage to catch a glimpse of Kaz standing in amazement a few meters away from a Grisha. The second one, ready to attack, has a hand with flames raised. I panic, and that makes me look around. I lift my gaze to my level, turning my head to the opposite balcony where Inez stands. I see fear in her eyes. Consuming fear, wrapping around her like a cocoon, but she's already reaching for the dagger in her thigh pocket.

Hundreds of thoughts race through my mind in a second, and I snatch a dagger from my belt. I won't let Inez kill them; as long as I'm alive, that will never happen. Just like her, I've never killed people in my life. I can't raise a hand against them, knowing the same could happen to me. Inez hasn't killed because she was devout, and her faith wouldn't allow her to commit such a sin.

"I didn't kill because I was scared. Scared to see the last gaze at the sky, hear the final heavy sigh. Afraid to witness the plea in the dying eyes at the last moment. Until that point, I hadn't drawn my knife with the intent to kill. But now, it's a completely different situation. Maybe I'll regret it later, perhaps it's the adrenaline coursing through me, but I have to spare Inej from her own sin and... protect Kaz Brekker.

"No!" I shout, and I can't understand whom I'm directing this exclamation to, but I immediately release the silver dagger at Grisha, aiming for his head for some reason.

So he won't suffer.

I freeze as the blade smoothly enters Grisha's neck halfway, immediately staining the steel with thick red liquid. There will be a lot of blood. I don't move, just watch as the body falls, then shift my gaze to Brekker.

I've never seen him like this. I'm certain that in my eyes, he sees not just incomprehension and fear, but also confusion, definitely not regret. Kaz has such a peculiar look... He knew I'd never take a life. Never, under any circumstances. Kaz knew that killing is as much of a problem for me as it is for Inej. But while she can kill when faced with mortal danger, I'll either defend myself or stand frozen until a bullet or metal pierces my heart.

Kaz looks puzzled. Troubled. And agitated. He stares at me, unblinking, his mouth slightly agape in astonishment, breathing heavily. I see sweat forming on his forehead, droplets rolling down his face, probably tickling his skin, but he continues to look at me. Unwaveringly. I don't look away.

I don't know how much time passes. I have no idea when the guards will catch up with us. I just keep looking at Kaz Brekker, biting my lip out of helplessness. I start to shake. The silence is broken by Inej, leaping down from the balcony, slowly approaching Grisha's corpse. She's not at ease either. Because of the force I used to throw the dagger into the lifeless body, I lean slightly forward. So, when I stand upright again, I instinctively recoil.

A lump forms in my throat. Adrenaline begins to ebb, panic surges with renewed force.

I've taken a life.

Kaz seems to realize I'm losing it, so he starts walking towards the balcony, knowing he won't be able to reach me anyway.

"Grace..."

My name sounds distant, as if I'm enclosed in a dome, in a vacuum somewhere. I step back from the railing, and Kaz takes another step forward, as if trying to stop me. And I retreat, continuing to look alternately at Grisha's body and my friend whose life I've almost taken. Taking away someone else's.

I turn around and continue towards the emergency exit, trying to keep a mental map of the Little Palace. I hear only my own name, shouted from Kaz Brekker's lips, chasing me.

I walk briskly, to avoid being caught by Kaz and Inej, the soldiers. Descending the stairs, I hide a few times behind protrusions to evade unwanted gazes. Ahead lies the final long corridor, and at the end, a small door where Jesper is supposed to be waiting for us.

"Grace!" I hear Inej's voice very close, and I turn towards her. They've been following me all this time, trying to escape just like me. Inej, usually composed, is now breathing deeply, her eyes wide open as she catches up to me, surpassing Kaz. "Grace..."

Inej stands beside me, ready to help at any moment, while I just lower my gaze to the floor, avoiding looking at her. Kaz approaches, limping more heavily on his right leg than usual. I quickly scan him, anxiously assessing his leg and overall condition. He needs help.

"Inej, go, tell Jesper to get ready for departure, I hope he's prepared," Kaz commands, but he continues to look at me. I can feel his gaze on my forehead. Inej nods obediently and gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. For a fraction of a second, it feels a bit easier. But then, after Inej leaves, Kaz takes two steps closer to me, leaning slightly forward, trying to catch my gaze.

"Grace, listen to me..."

"I killed him," I whisper to myself, but I was certain Kaz heard. Unexpectedly, he came even closer, stepping within arm's reach.

"Grace, look at me," Brekker asks, not commands, and I only press my lips together, still not lifting my gaze. "Grace!" I can't resist any longer and raise my eyes, meeting his piercing gaze. It turns out we're closer than an arm's length. "Grace, look," Kaz slightly spreads his arms, as if urging me to take a good look at him. "I'm alive. And it's all thanks to you. You saved me, Grace." He speaks in a half-whisper to avoid being overheard.

"Or so that I would hear..."

"Now pull yourself together!"

Now he's not asking anymore — Kaz commands, circling around me and brushing my shoulder. I can only sigh deeply, clenching my hands into fists.

I might burst into tears

Part 2?

[feralbutfluffy]

50: Muriel

Chapter 50 (!!!) of Too Wise to Woo Peaceably

The sun was streaming in through the windows when Muriel made it back to the bookshop.

They circled the nest of blankets and cushions still on the floor and picked up a few, gripping the corners between their knuckles. They crossed the shop floor and flung three of them in the general direction of the sofa.

Two of them collapsed against the sofa cushions in a haphazard fashion. One of them bounced off and slid under the desk.

Muriel was too preoccupied to care.

They traipsed up the spiral staircase and flung another three cushions into the bedroom. Only one of them found its home on the bed.

Muriel didn't even notice.

More kissing!

What did that mean then? The angel and the demon weren’t back to themselves! Crowley was still hurt, and there was still tension, and they were still so... snippy! But also (apparently), kissing?

Muriel didn’t understand it! They were making everything more complicated than it needed to be. Crowley was, as Maggie had once put it, “head over heels” for Aziraphale (this made no sense to Muriel since so far as they could determine, heads were almost always over heels? Unless they were lying on the sofa with their ankles hooked over the armrest, which Muriel sometimes did while reading).

And Aziraphale... There was so much love there, but Muriel wasn’t even sure he was fully aware of it? It was paved over with so much fear! And guilt? And they weren’t at all sure, for example, that Aziraphale knew how awestruck he sounded when he spoke about Crowley!

... It was very much not the way he usually sounded when he spoke to Crowley (annoying).

Muriel frowned, chewing the inside of their cheek. They skipped down the staircase trying to figure out how to reconcile the discrepancy, when a knock on the glass of the door startled them. 

Nina was peering in, and when she spotted Muriel she waved and pointed at the lock on the door. Muriel darted over and opened it with a welcoming smile. “Hello!”

Nina sidled into the shop. “Muriel! Where've you been?”

“Here? Well. Here some of the time? And the rest of the time I was… elsewhere!” Muriel took a big breath and blew their cheeks out, wondering if that was the right answer.

“Alright! Keep your secrets! Not gonna pry! Just wanted to check you’re okay. I suppose I got so used to you dropping into the shop after your hangouts with Crowley, that when you didn’t show…” Her eyes were questioning, and Muriel found themselves avoiding them, looking at bookshelves and lamps and a metal horse and really anything but Nina.

“Oh, I’m fine,” Muriel said and tried for a reassuring smile, wondering if there was any way to explain how their Wednesday had gone so spectacularly topsy-turvy.

Probably not.

Nina leaned her shoulder against the bookshelf behind her and frowned. “You’re fine? Is the emphasis implying Crowley isn’t?”

Black feathers, broken and scattered.

Incomprehensible angles folded into a crumpled heap.

Savage, brutal red smeared in a room of pure, blinding white. 

Muriel felt their smile wobble and fall (oh no), and Nina’s eyes narrowed. She pushed herself off the bookshelf and strode over to grip Muriel by the shoulders. “What is it? Is he alright?”

“Mmm... Well he wasn’t alright for a bit, but we fixed it. He’s much better now!” 

At least they hoped he was; Aziraphale had seemed rather annoyed about him telling Muriel about the new kiss.

Nina’s hand pressed a rotating pressure into Muriel’s shoulder (lovely!) and looked over their head into the middle distance. “I’m glad to hear it. He’s prickly as hell but we’ve a soft spot for him, God only knows why!”

Muriel privately agreed that God probably did know why. God knew everything!

“Where is he now?”

“At home?” said Muriel, thinking the bookshop was really far more homey than the grey level smoothness of Crowley’s expensive flat. “I left him with A-” Muriel stopped themselves, then continued after a brief moment of thought. “I left him with Mr. Fell.”

Nina’s eyes lit up at this bit of news and she immediately propelled Muriel to the sofa by the shoulders, pushing them down and curling up next to them with the grace of a large cat. “Mr. Fell is back? Are they…?” Nina raised her eyebrows suggestively and made a circular gesture with her hand.

Muriel had no idea what that meant. “Are they?” They repeated uncertainly. “They… are?” 

It must have been the right answer because Nina whooped and grinned, then nudged Muriel with her elbow (friend-like!) and said, “Wait til I tell Maggie, she will legitimately explode! ”

Muriel didn’t think that sounded like a good thing, but Nina’s tone of voice was so elated that they decided to ignore the words and focus on the feeling. They smiled at Nina. They weren’t sure what they had done to be the cause of such joy, but they were glad to have done it!

“You know,” said Nina, leaning in towards Muriel, “We were absolutely bloody positive we’d screwed it up for a while there.”

“Screwed what up?” Asked Muriel, thinking of nuts and bolts and screwdrivers and allen keys.

“Their whole relationship. I know we haven’t really talked about this, but that day that Mr. Fell left the bookshop… Well, we sort of wound up having a chat about their whole thing. Only with Crowley mind you, because Mr Fell was out, but-”

“You spoke to Crowley about Mr. Fell?” Muriel breathed (intrigued!).

“Yeah. Yeah, Maggie thought it would be a good idea and I went along with it because…” she shrugged and her cheeks turned a bit red, “... well, I went along with it because Maggie thought it would be a good idea.”

Muriel thought the fondness in Nina’s face when she said Maggie’s name looked familiar.

“Anyway, we came here, and Crowley was alone... We really just wanted to tell him it wasn’t alright for them to go mucking about in our lives, doing weird spells or whatever-”

Spells, mouthed Muriel silently, and stifled a laugh. Did they think Crowley was a fairy? So silly!

“... And so, yeah. Basically we told him he needed to actually talk - like really talk - to Mr. Fell, to tell him what he was actually thinking.” Nina looked out the window. ”Next thing I knew I was watching him leave in that mammoth car he drives - alone - and I haven’t seen either of them since. Which is a pity; few enough people I legitimately like, but I liked them! Meddling sods...” She smiled affectionately.

Muriel was thinking a great many things and wondering which should be their reply.

Poor Crowley!

Or 

Oh, I think you might have caused a kiss!

Or

I think he might have talked to him, but it was probably the worst possible time and it didn’t go very well?

Or

Oh. No, they don’t really talk anymore. Well except now because Crowley nearly died, and we had to rescue him from Heaven, and he was unconscious, and then he got better, but then Aziraphale basically killed our manager with a sword, and now Crowley can barely walk - again - because I think proximity to Aziraphale affects his brain and he does truly stupid things around him? But they kissed again! Earlier today!

Muriel sighed. They supposed the question of whether the new kiss was another truly stupid thing remained to be seen. They had certainly both been acting stupid enough when they had left them!

They eventually settled for, “Oh I think they did talk, but Mr. Fell had just been given news of a promotion and he needed to relocate for it? And I think… I think his good news about the promotion sort of got muddled with Crowley’s talking? I think they weren’t really hearing each other...”

Because they were stupid.

“I think they were both just too... in their own heads? Does that make sense-?”

Nina nodded, looking concerned.

“... and then they kissed!” Muriel blurted out.

Nina blinked twice before a slow, wide smile broke over her face. “They kissed? Really? Christ! Imagine that!”

Muriel wasn't sure Christ would want to, actually.

Nina picked up her phone and typed something, still smiling into the screen, before placing it facedown on the sofa between them. “Sorry! Had to tell Maggie. She’s obsessed with Mr. Fell, thinks he’s an absolute angel.”

“Oh,” said Muriel very seriously, “he is.”

A bang as the door to the shop bounced on its hinges and then Maggie was hurrying over, hands flapping, eyes wide and sparkling. She stopped beside Muriel and took a deep breath, “Really? Are you serious? They kissed ?!”

Muriel sat up a bit straighter. These two humans were really putting a lot of importance on The Kiss, which wasn’t wrong exactly, because they did think it was important, but also it wasn’t right, because it wasn’t the sort of kiss they were imagining, probably. Muriel wasn’t sure how to untangle all of this excitement and delight without unwinding it into a large heap of disappointment.

“Yes, they did, that's actually why I was asking you so many questions about kissing when I first took over the shop-?"

"Oh yeah!" Nina laughed and turned to Maggie, "Remember I told you they were absolutely obsessed with kissing? God, the questions! You were relentless!"

"Yes, but it wasn’t-” Muriel tried to cut across.

“Maybe it worked!” Nina was saying to Maggie. “I think you were right, angel!”

“No, it was-” Muriel hated trying to interrupt.

“Took them long enough!” Maggie crowed, clapping with delight.

Muriel held up their hands, palms out. “No no, no! It didn’t work! ”

Nina and Maggie turned to them. “What? What do you mean?”

“Well, Crowley tried to talk, but then Mr. Fell sort of interrupted to tell him about his… promotion… and wanted Crowley to, ah, relocate with him? But Crowley didn’t want to, and then Crowley told him, I think, what you said? That is, he told him what he was really thinking? Only whatever he said made them both really very angry and upset, and they both nearly cried, and then…”

Maggie and Nina were looking increasingly horrified. Muriel ploughed on.

“... Crowley sort of grabbed him and kissed him, but not like a nice kiss? Like an angry, sad, desperate, heartbroken, griefstricken kiss? Almost like a punishment? Although I’m not sure which of them was being punished because they really did both look really upset? And then Mr Fell left and Crowley went home and they didn't speak for a very long time...”

Muriel trailed off.

Maggie’s face melted into an expression of utter sadness. “Oh,” she said, blinking away a tear. Nina jumped up to rub Maggie's back in small comforting circles (kind!). 

Muriel twisted their fingers together.

“We really thought we’d helped!” Maggie wailed. “Maybe we shouldn't have said anything! Maybe we said the wrong thing? Oh, that’s so awful!"

Muriel thought of Aziraphale sending them to check on the demon, and how sad the mention of Aziraphale's name had made Crowley in the first few weeks of their tentative arrangement.

"It was quite awful. They were both very, very sad."

Nina brought her arm fully around Maggie and stroked her upper arm. "But you said right now they're at Crowley's place? Together?"

Maggie brightened. "They are?"

"They were together when I left so... Maybe?" Muriel paused and thought of something they had read about called the Schrödinger's cat paradox. Really, until Muriel could get back to the flat, they had to believe that Crowley and Aziraphale were there together! But also, maybe not there together? One of them might have killed the other! Or they could be kissing again?

Schrödinger's spiritual beings!

"Well there you go then, I'm sure they'll patch things up!" Nina's optimism sounded a bit forced but Muriel didn't contradict her.

Maggie sighed. "I hope you're right. They probably just needed to get back in touch."

Muriel thought of the new kiss and made a noncommittal sound. 

"The course of true love never did run smooth," Nina said, and they recognised it at once.

"A Midsummer Night's Dream!" Muriel beamed. 

One of the funny ones!

[dorothygale123]

Okay, so, I just watched season 5 of Lego Monkie Kid, and I have some things to say. Namely, how the main antagonist has ties to Greek philosophy. Any spoilers will be under the cut, so continue at your own risk.

So, I the climax of the season, the 9 Headed Demon talks about himself and the other inhabitants of the world as living in a cave created by Nuwa, knowing the sun exists but fearing it and not wanting to go out. The only one who does is him, and the others call him crazy after he returns from the outside.

This has striking similarities to a thought experiment by Plato called the Allegory of the Cave. In this allegory, Plato describes prisoners that are chained in a cave (obviously), but they are also facing a blank wall with light coming from behind them. All they know and understand of the world is the shadows that flicker across the cave wall. This is supposed to represent the fact that our own perceptions of reality are limited and biased, as we can never truly see everything for all that it truly is. As humans, we're simply incapable of processing something on that level of magnitude.

Plato also describes a prisoner that escapes the cave and sees the world for what it truly is and goes back to tell the other prisoners what the world is like. The other prisoners, only knowing the cave, think he's crazy and fear the outside. In some versions, they even kill the escaped prisoner for trying to free them, prefferring the safety of the cave to the unknown outside. In Plato's allegory, the escaped prisoner is a philosopher who has left the 'cave' of preconceptions and tries to see the world as it truly is.

LMK's interpretation seems to posit that while the cave is different from the outside, the experiences and people inside it are valid and have just as much a right to exist as whatever is outside the cave. It also put the escaped prisoner, the 9 Headed Demon, in an unusually antagonistic role. Most stories I've seen that use the Allegory of the Cave imply that getting out of the cave and seeing the world in full is the best option, but the world outside LMK's 'cave' seems dangerous and nigh incomprehensible. It's actually the first time I've sided with the prisoners that want to stay inside the cave.

After all, if the only thing outside the cave is Cthulu I'm staying in here!

[saturnaftertaste]

thst last ask got me thinking, do you think tabitha could've matched betty's freak

while the feminist in me would love to say yes i simply have to say no. unfortunately not tabitha does not match betty’s freak because tabitha is a real person and betty is a Real person

on a basic level it’s a no because while tabitha is from chicago and has the street smarts to survive riverdale, tabs’ life seems to have been pretty normal up until she came to riverdale. her parents’ biggest problem with her is that she chose to leave behind her promising future in the big city to run her granddads old diner, which, understandable. big-crime-city-living aside, tabitha seems incredibly well adjusted. betty on the other hand is basically composed of several layers of incredibly tightly-repressed shame anger and fear dressed in a pink sweater and a ponytail pulled too tight. basic character construction-wise tabitha’s freak is somewhere on the scale like blowing a lot of money on a new car and then driving really fast through the city with her girlbesties, and betty’s freak is moreso like sneaking around in the night pouring gasoline on people so they would spontaneously combust soon after (freak here being represented by what they would desire to do if there were no consequences.)

narratively, on the other hand, according to my interpretation of canon at least, there is a significant gap between these two and their roles in the story. like i said earlier, tabitha is a real person, and betty is a Real person. tabitha is AR (after riverdale) when jughead has finally exited the bubble and seen how people in the real world outside of riverdale operate. she does not have the same baggage that the rest of the cast do, like, at all (whether that’s sloppy writing or significant of her being a late-stage addition is up to interpretation). she’s level-headed, hyper-competent and endlessly empathetic which leads me to believe that in the story of riverdale, tabitha tate was not based on a real person. she’s too exactly what jughead needs -> tough-love street-smart self-confident woman who is sympathetic and kind but likes him for him and doesn’t just pity him (which is what he believes his relationship with betty was). it’s too convenient - if you looks closely at season 5 the way jughead and tabitha become closer is very formulaic and out of character for the way the show is written - tabitha has empathy for jughead before they become a thing and extends her good graces multiple times even though jughead is practically not her type - he’s not charming, he’s not kind, the s5 version of him was in fact rude, aggressive, addicted and incompetent. the scene i’m thinking of specifically is when tabs takes him home after the key party at cheryl’s and she puts the blanket on him. everyone can see the fondness coming, because the music and the bias of the camera plays into it, but story-wise the romance is almost entirely left-field.

betty is, on the other hand, BR (before riverdale) but more importantly she IS riverdale, so to speak. since jughead starts and ends the story of riverdale through betty’s perspective, she goes through the most transformation throughout the series as she graduates from repressed sensitive schoolgirl to grizzled competent FBI woman. betty was also, as per the narrative, written by a pre-new york jughead, who does shoddy work at best and incomprehensible at worst, so adult betty remains somewhat childish in her directives - in her childhood bedroom, with her childhood love, with her child/teenagehood best friend…betty is written as a caricature of a girl next door with a. nothing to back it up and b. never allowed to transcend that. betty never fits the stereotype because one twist after the other reveals that she’s not actually a “northsider” that she’s got “serial killer genes” her sister has incest-twins, becomes a prostitute and then gets murdered. she has a serial-killer brother + brother in law. every next-door aspect of betty’s life gets flipped and yet she is still not allowed to move past that tag!

fundamentally, tabitha could never match betty’s freak, because tabitha is a plot-c character and betty is a plot-a character. if the town wasn’t alive, i doubt they would’ve interacted at all! but betty’s purpose as protagonist for the town means that she interacts in some capacity with everyone - but she interacts with tabitha least. mostly tabitha interacts with archie because whose freak matches archie’s…ding ding ding! you guessed it! jughead! no surprises there. but betty and tabitha are not built to complement each other - the differences in the contexts of their creation and the contexts of their roles in the story are too different for them to align.

[eggsploded]

yi sang boowomp

was giggling while doodling this

initial impression: incomprehensible. god have mercy on your soul. his design made me mad i was like how dare they make a guy this boring but yet i knew this fellow was deeply strange in a way close to the soul

current impression: my muse and my dear friend yi sang. in another universe i picked apples with him in my papas orchard. he is just pixels yet i am just dust. the wiki calls him 'peculiar with no malign intent' and i think that is a beautiful way to put it. he cares so much it made him sick. his language is quite literally flowery and filled with puns involving his own name. when hes announcer he calls the sinners his companions. he doesnt like blood. he asked if rodya was alright after sonya left. he moaned that one time in hells chicken. faust respects his wishes to not be called genius and uses it as a way to praise herself in the same breath. his gut bacteria is extraordinary. please be gentle with yourself as you are with others yi sang, i got you some vitamins for your shaky hands. be safe.

favorite moment: in canto 2 when theyre looking for someone to dance yi sang declines by saying My inner voice expresses fear. which is yi sang for: soy timido

story idea: in a radical act of loving himself yi sang learns to become an amateur foodie with world class vacuums heathcliff and rodya. he gets a tummyache 4 bites into a burger, but he promises to be brave about it. the other two promise to try the spicy noodles he likes and they cry so hard they throw up

favorite relationships: THIS GUY has a lot of love in him. hes very ideal to me, but not many of the sinners will put up with this sickly mans comment about how your skin cells look in bloom with sebum today. i mentioned gregsang in another post cuz i think theyre both darling little dudes. fausang is my bread and butter not really in a romantic sense but theyre definitely symbiotic. when they have beef its at a level you cant comprehend (because its in complete silence), and when theyre attempting physical touch its so stupid and childish you cant believe it. theyre yuri and yaoi when you need them to be. faust definitely doesnt like how perceptive he is and that he doesnt mean anything mean with it. hes so disarming to her she wants to both share her bag of snacks or bite and claw at him a bit. yi sang is yi sang about this, fausts faustitudes are unchangable like weather to him. he can admire the rain.

favorite headcanon: yi sang don and sinclair are the trio of all time. i know people call them car tower trio cuz that one cg but theyre the bird trio to me (don is a parakeet). theyre also board game freaks