#but it unfortunately isn't ready for release just yet

[namism]

Hey! Can you do some Sanji headcanons about y’all’s first time and afterwards. I want it very descriptive 🤭

your first time with: sanji

➳ categories: canonverse, female reader

➳ warnings: nsfw (afab reader, you and sanji are virgins, aftercare, visual references are provided; click to your heart's content, but remember that these are merely references and the reader is NOT depicted a certain body type/skin color in the narrative)

➳ notes: feedback is appreciated because idk how to write hcs! i added a little something to the prompt and i enjoyed writing it 😮‍💨😩

You and Sanji are always being interrupted that it's almost funny.

You want to lose everything to him since you've been seeing each other for quite some time, but you have never had sex yet and it's getting frustrating.

Unfortunately, the universe seems to hate the both of you because there is always some sort of disturbance that prevents you from having each other.

For instance, when a simple kiss turns into a heavy makeout session at the bathroom of the Thousand Sunny, Sanji would have his fingers playing with your clit, teasing and edging the fuck out of you because he loves watching your face contort into expressions of pleasure.

His other hand would play with your tits as he moans into your mouth loudly.

Unfortunately, his idiot Captain would interrupt the both of you in the middle of the act.

Sometimes you would ignore Luffy and continue, but when that happens, Luffy would bang on the door with his fists until he officially ruins the moment.

The lust is then replaced by awkwardness and annoyance.

Only then would you whine in frustration, slipping your hands off Sanji's chest while he angrily lets go of you to cater to his Captain's growling stomach.

On some days, when you really can't handle the ache in between your legs anymore, you would sneak into the kitchen after dinner to seduce Sanji here and there, asking him for a quick fuck on the counter while nobody is around.

However, Sanji being Sanji, he turns you down because he hates kitchen sex.

(He thinks it's a disgrace to food and the place where he makes the food. Sorry to all the kitchen sex Sanji lovers out there; it's a hot take, but I do stand by it.)

That said, you're left even more frustrated.

Even though the both of you can't get privacy on the ship, you still try to force it because why not?

There's a bed there and everything, so if you can get at least 20 minutes to yourselves, you would both be satisfied.

Thus, off you go, trying and trying and trying... but it still isn't enough.

Sanji would be balls deep in your mouth, cum running down his dick as you run your tongue up and down him so seductively.

You're ready to take him there, ready to lose your "v-card" to this man for looking delicious as fuck, that you bob your head up and down him with hasty excitement.

He would be reaching his high any moment now, feeling that tight knot at the pit of his stomach that calls for his release, but a knock on the door interrupts your life-changing blowjob.

At that second, you and Sanji are scrambling to your feet to make yourselves presentable, groaning to yourselves at the stupid interruption.

It's Chopper seeking for help, but as cute as he is, you're personally just mad as fuck that the moment was cut short.

Since the Thousand Sunny is too occupied, you and Sanji sneak off into town, finding a place where it's convenient to fuck.

Unfortunately, nine times out of ten, you still get disturbed by either 1) a Straw Hat, 2) an innocent local, or 3) some natural cock-blocking phenomenon that you just wish never happened.

The many times you and Sanji had to cut things short exceeds the number of fingers you have combined.

Since sneaking off into public doesn't do the job, you decide to bring Sanji to a love motel, where you can finally fuck to your heart's content.

That way, there's no hungry Captain, no little reindeer, and no other cock-blocker that can ruin the moment.

You and Sanji are virgins, but that doesn't mean you haven't explored each other before.

You've gotten away with many makeout sessions, fingering, blowjobs, and all that kinky shit in the past, so despite your lack of actual fucking/penetration, you know how to navigate each other's bodies.

Well, except when the situation gets too real. All of a sudden, Sanji is a nervous wreck as he feels that today is the day that you will finally get to fuck each other with no interruptions, and you would be lying if you said that you aren't nervous, too.

It hits you both like a truck that this is your first time taking each other.

It starts off slow and sweet with the both of you trying to register that it's actually happening.

Sanji kisses you like normal: hungry and eager, but reassuring to let you know that he won't hurt you.

Fucking Sanji for the first time includes everything you've done together in the past just because you finally have the moment to yourselves.

He'd finger you just the way you like—maybe even eat you out since he isn't in a rush—and praise you for how great you're doing.

Sanji is amazing at praise because he can't imagine himself being derogatory (even if you ask him to).

He loves to whisper the sweetest praises to you that keep you going, ending it all with a nickname that only he calls you.

He's so good with words that it turns you on, combined with the obvious fact that you're losing your virginity to him and he's losing his to you.

He would talk about it as he fucks his fingers into your pussy.

"I'm readying you for something bigger, princess. You're doing great."

When Sanji is done fingering you, it's your sign to get down on both knees and play with his dick.

You do the one thing he loves a lot: eye contact.

Sanji can get lost in your eyes as you suck his dick everyday and he wouldn't be mad about it.

He finds it sexy that you know how to hold a stare because there is nothing that he loves more than a confident woman who can make him pathetically crumble.

He melts into a puddle when he watches you stare him down with a mouth full of cock.

When it comes to actually fucking you, Sanji can't wait to position you on the bed where he wants you.

He has fantasized about entering you so often that he has a mental list of positions that he wants to try... but first things first, he asks you several times if you're ready and if you want to keep going.

He can't help it. Even though you both want it so badly, it's your first time doing anything of the sort, so he doesn't want you to regret it if you aren't up for it.

You always appreciate him asking you. Even as you kiss and do the cutest things, he always asks for permission.

This time, you're more than ready—so you nod at him, giving him the sign that he can proceed however he wants.

With that, he'd slowly push himself in you as he laces your fingers with his for comfort.

Once you're comfortable enough, that's when his lust starts talking.

Remember his mental list of positions?

One of them is having you on top of him.

He loves it when you ride him. It turns him on when you're facing him as you ride his dick because he has a great view of your tits, allowing him to lean forward and capture your nipples in between his lips.

However, he still loves reverse cowgirl. Even though he has his favorites, he won't deny himself of the opportunity of seeing your ass that way. That said, when you change positions, he turns you around gently so that he has a full view of your ass.

Once you're tired, Sanji would take control by laying you on your back and deciding what position he would like to see you in next.

Experimentally, he turns you on your side and raises one of your legs up as he pounds into you.

It turns him on further as he looks down at where you and him connect, watching himself disappear in you with every thrust forward.

He feels great pleasure in hearing you moan for him. Since it's your first time, Sanji asks you often if you're feeling alright, especially when your moans get louder all of a sudden.

When it comes to cumming on you, Sanji makes sure to ask you first.

He knows how sex and conception works; he isn't stupid. If you aren't on contraception, he makes it an important quest to ask you where you want him first, ensuring that he doesn't get you pregnant after your first time together.

He asks you when he's reaching his high.

"Where do you want me, my princess? On your tummy?"

Your tummy and your backside are the safest options, so he pulls out first, then releases.

After the sex, Sanji collapses on the bed and waits for you to calm down. Afterward, he peppers you with lust-free kisses, just sweet ones out of pure joy that you finally got to fuck each other after many tries.

He goes back to being the gentleman he is and cuddles you under the blanket. He enjoys the moment because he doesn't get to do this with you on the ship. The fact that you're already both naked is a bonus for him.

Sanji is totally the type to give excellent aftercare. After losing your virginity and getting absolutely fucked with passion and lust, he understands if you need a hug or two... so that's exactly what he does.

He stays with you on the bed, patting your head and cuddling with you, until you're ready to collect yourself and get dressed.

...although the crew won't be leaving until tomorrow, so you enjoy your stay at the island after an unexpected Round 2.

(Blame Sanji. He just can't resist you, but you can't resist him either.)

[gwaeddblaidd]

Feed the Wolf Chapter 7: Pride (Excerpt)

Our time together is pleasant. Unencumbered by the worries of the world, we sit and eat and talk at our leisure, simply enjoying each other’s company under the slowly setting sun. The threads of our conversation run deeper than before, returning to so many of the topics we discussed at the Weathervane and over text, diving ever further into each other’s tastes and opinions. Under any other circumstance, this sort of tranquil back and forth would be more than enough for me. I don’t speak to that many people in my day-to-day life, and I can’t deny that my talks with Enid are incredibly refreshing. With other people, I often have a hard time truly listening to them, at least for prolonged periods. It's not that I dislike other people inherently, but my brain just isn’t wired to sit idly by and listen to a wave of miscellaneous information. With Enid though, everything she says cements itself in my memories, every little fact about what she likes and doesn’t like, her favourite pastimes, foods, music – everything. Hearing her talk brings me joy, and seeing her take an interest in what I talk about ignites a passion within me like no other. To say that I’m happy is one hell of an understatement.

Under any other circumstance, these sweet moments would be more than I could ever possibly hope for. But, as it stands, I’m haunted all the while by the knowledge that if I want to get closer to Enid, I need to make the first move. In every quiet dip in the conversation, each and every time we spend a few minutes just watching the world go by in all of its beauty, a part of me is screaming that now is the time. But then all too soon the moment will pass and our conversation will resume – each time as wonderful as before, but robbing me of the opportunity to make that sorely needed confession. In my head, I write out so many ways of saying what I need to say, but never do they feel quite right. Loathe as I am to consider the possibility, maybe spontaneity is needed here.

Something possesses me to speak suddenly. “Look, I don’t know how to say this, but…” I swallow hard, begging the lump in my throat to recede. My heartbeat increases its pace, its rhythm like a drum deep in my ears.  “I like you. Like, I really like you. Shit, why is this so hard…?”

Enid seems surprisingly unfazed by my confession. She places a gentle hand on my arm. “Because it’s important.”

My eyes rise nervously to meet hers. Is that how it works? Do all important things have to be difficult? How is that fair? Who made those rules? Whoever they are, they’re a colossal asshole. Still, those eyes offer a quiet encouragement; a gentle, reassuring offer of support that assuages any lingering doubts I may have still had. As socially inept as I can sometimes be, I already know what Enid’s answer will be. The fear of rejection falls away, leaving me no excuses to hide behind. I just have to ask. Why does that have to be so damn difficult?

“These past couple weeks… I mean, it’s had its ups and downs, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt as calm as I have in my time spent with you. For the first time in years, I feel… happy.”

I need to pause, to give myself a moment to breathe. My breaths aren’t coming naturally to me as I speak right now, each one the result of concerted effort. I clench my hands into fists to suppress the tremor I can feel coming on.

“Maybe it’s too early to be thinking this way and honestly, you deserve better than me, but…” I sigh, a quick expelling of air to lead the words out. “If you would have me, I want to be more than friends. God knows I don’t deserve it, but that’s the truth.”

Enid’s pained expression brings forth a wave of anxiety. Did I somehow misread the situation? Was I wrong? How could I have been so confident that I was right? Me, who’s always second-guessing myself over the most trivial things. She shakes her head, but as she does a bittersweet smile comes to the surface.

“I don’t like it when you talk that way,” she says, a little quietly and not quite as assertively as usual. “You’re always putting yourself down, but…” She considers for a moment. “You don’t see what I see.”

“What do you mean?”

Her smile remains, but changes slightly. It’s almost a nostalgic smile, as if she’s drawing upon a memory. “You’re kind and sweet and caring. You act all tough sometimes, but it’s clear that’s not who you are. You’ve got a gentle soul, and you’re a good person.”

I don’t say anything to that. I can’t. The only things that come to mind are counter-examples to her assertions; ways of disproving all the nice things she’s saying about me. But I don’t want to dismiss her feelings like that. And perhaps even more than that, I want to believe that what she’s saying is true. It’s clear that she believes in her words, but I’m undeserving of such a flattering picture to be painted of me. My eyes leave hers and drop to the ground, unable to contest with her gaze any longer under the barrage of compliments.

“But more than anything,” she continues, “you’re clueless.”

Confused, I look up just in time to see her face close to mine. Her eyes are closed, softly and without any tension. She looks… serene. This close I can see the smallest of blemishes on her skin, all the tiny imperfections that prove she is a real, living person with a life of her own. I can see the hints of freckles on the bridge of her nose, mostly concealed with makeup but showing through just enough to be visible in such close proximity. I can see the parallel lines of slightly raised scar tissue on her cheek and above her left eye; tokens of her battle with Tyler. For a wolf, she healed up well, but those markings are certainly still there if you know to look for them. Her perfume, too, is so much more present up close. Notes of berries are most prominent, accompanied by a subtle undertone of vanilla. I’ve always preferred fruity scents to floral ones, and it would appear that Enid shares this preference. It’s a lovely smell, well picked out and befitting of her character. As she lingers so close to me, the aroma gradually builds up in my nostrils to the point that I can almost taste it. Wait…

Only as my attention turns to my sense of taste do I suddenly realise what’s happening. Her closeness isn’t without reason. I’m not sure how I didn’t notice her lips pressed against my mouth, the kiss so delicately and deliberately planted upon my lips. Her hand has left my arm, now cradling the side of my face and ever-so-gently pulling me in. Her touch feels electric now that I’m aware of it, both her hand and lips like jumper cables pressed against my skin, forming a circuit of agonising ecstasy. I tense up involuntarily, my jaw clenching in response to the unfamiliar experience. Enid notices instantly. Her eyes flash open and she pulls away, not too far but just enough to look into my eyes properly.

“Everything alright?” There’s no judgement, just genuine concern.

“Y-yeah,” I stammer, “I’m just not used to this kind of thing.” I feel my face flush with a searing heat. Thankfully the warm glow of the setting sun will go a long way towards hiding my embarrassment.

“Was that your first kiss?” she asks hesitantly, but amusedly.

“No!” I answer, far too eagerly but not untruthfully. My mind is thrown back to a summer many years ago, before Nevermore, before my father’s betrayal, but I snap myself back to reality before I can get too lost in memories. “No, it’s just been a long time. You caught me off guard, is all…”

---

Title: Feed the Wolf

Fandom: Wednesday

Rating: T

Chapters: 7 of 12

Links: AO3, FF.net

Summary: As the dust settles on the Hyde incident, Nevermore is slowly but surely returning to a calmer, safer state. But for those involved, the scars may take a while longer to fully heal. Gelert Davies, a half-werewolf student, has always kept himself out of trouble as best he could, but a chance encounter will test his resolve and force him to face parts of himself long abandoned.

Tags: Enid Sinclair, Wednesday Addams, Original Character(s), Enid Sinclair/Original Male Character(s), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Wolf Instincts, Loss of Control, Injury Recovery, Self-Hatred, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Courting Rituals, Werewolf Courting, Werewolf Culture, Eventual Romance, Family Issues, POV First Person

Thank you for reading, and have a wonderful day! :)

[kikyoupdates]

Love Bite ⭑˚🩸⭑ 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑒

yandere!vampires x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, original characters, vampire!ocs x fem!reader

Desperate for money to pay off your debts, you sign up for a program that allows you to sell your blood to vampires. At first, everything is fine, and you’re finally able to make ends meet. But they soon begin craving more than just your blood.

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Certain people are dealt a shittier hand in life than others, and unfortunately, you are one of those people.

Life has never been easy for you. As far back as you can remember, it's been one shitstorm after the other. Your parents are as good as dead to you, because all they ever did was make reckless choices and run away, leaving you to clean up their mess. That's how, at the young age of twenty, you've already got more debt than the average person could ever fathom.

Still, you make do. You hustle as best you can to get through one day and move on to the next. It's exhausting, and sometimes it feels like you're ready to give up, but against all odds, you persevere.

"That'll be 50 credits," the cashier says.

You let out a sigh and give her your card. Everything is so goddamn expensive these days. Even a simple grocery trip feels like a big slap in the face.

"Oh. Sorry," she blinks. "It's been declined. Do you have any other form of payment on hand?"

Shit. This one too?

You mumble an apology and dig through your wallet again. Thankfully, you happen to have enough cash to cover the cost. Just barely.

"Thank you for shopping with us," the cashier recites monotonously. She packs your groceries in a bag and hands it to you, then gestures for the next customer to step forward.

You leave the store the same as always, feeling worn-down and discouraged. You'll have to apply for a new card, but who knows when they'll send it to you. Goddammit. You're already scraping the bottom of the barrel as is. You hardly have enough emergency savings to last until then.

It's a shitty day, and unfortunately for you, it's about to get even worse.

"[Name]," a distinct, familiar voice mutters. You flinch at the sound, nearly dropping your grocery bag in the process. There's a man standing outside your apartment complex. A man that always makes your stomach crease in discomfort.

You instinctively step back. "I don't want any trouble, Johnny. Please, can I just get through?"

He ignores you and walks over, and while you stand there, stiff from fright, he peeks into your grocery bag and hums, visibly amused.

"Not exactly a lavish dinner," he chuckles. "But I guess you've got no choice but to be frugal, huh?"

"I just want to go home," you plead. "Please. Don't do this."

Alas, Johnny has never been one to give a shit about your circumstances, and today is no exception.

"I haven't been getting the money you promised me," he glares. "You've been late on your payments, and I'm really starting to lose my patience here."

You try to protest, but he wraps his hand around your throat and forcibly pins you against a wall. He isn't applying too much pressure, not yet, but the threat is there all the same.

"You owe me money, [Name]." His pupils constrict, a telltale sign that he's furious. "I'm done with your shitty excuses. If you can't make good on your promises, then you pay the price. This is the way the world works."

He holds you there, just so he can watch you whimper and cower in fear, then he eventually releases his hold on you and steps away.

"I'm giving you one more week," he says. "If you don't come up with the amount we agreed on in one week, I might seriously have to kill you. And don't even think of running away like your parents did. I'm sure as hell not gonna make the same mistake twice."

Johnny walks off with a steady, relaxed gait and his hands buried in his pockets. It's that easy for him. He can threaten an innocent woman and not think anything of it, the sick bastard.

You sniffle and resist the urge to cry. Fuck your parents. All they ever did was ruin your life. You have no idea where they're hiding right now, but for their own sake, they had better not show their faces around you ever again.

Still. There's no point in lamenting what can't be changed. Your parents are gone. It's up to you to remedy this situation and pay that disgusting loan shark back.

The question is, how?

How in the world will you pull that off? You barely make enough to eat two meals a day and cover your rent, let alone the steep cost of your debts.

It just seems like a lost cause. You've been working yourself to the bone, but you still can't even make a dent in what your parents owe. It's all too much to bear. It makes you want to forfeit your life entirely. At least then, you might finally be able to rest in peace.

Weighed down by the hopelessness of your situation, you trudge into your crappy studio apartment, chuck the groceries in the fridge, and plop down on the couch, defeated.

I guess it's time to look for another job. Something I can squeeze into my schedule. I can probably survive without sleeping a few days in a row, right?

You chuckle brokenly and scroll through your phone, looking for anything you might have a shot at. Finding a good job in this city is yet another hopeless dream for someone like you, who didn't go to college and doesn't have any other notable qualifications. All of your current jobs may as well be paying you dirt, which is why you can never meet Johnny's ridiculous demands.

You're just about to give up and go make yourself a rather pathetic dinner, when suddenly, something catches your eye.

[𝗡𝗘𝗪 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗠 𝗟𝗔𝗨𝗡𝗖𝗛]: 𝗕𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱. 𝗦𝘂𝗰𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗳𝘂𝗹 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗰𝗼𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘃𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝗶𝘁𝗶𝘇𝗲𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝘀-𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝗮𝘀𝗶𝘀.

Vampires. Not long ago, a law was passed, granting vampires access to the city. More and more of them seem to be moving here, the central hub of the country. Of course, most people felt uncomfortable with this change, but it seems to be a necessary step in fighting back against years of discrimination. Humans naturally fear vampires, and the government is doing everything it can to integrate them into society.

Since drinking blood by force is considered a crime, this program is most likely a way for vampires to obtain their blood safely and without any consequence, just so long as people are willing to sign up for it.

You take a moment to assess your situation. You have almost no money to your name, and there's a greedy loan shark that's just itching to torture you if you fail to pay him back in time. If you don't get some money, and fast, you're probably headed for the afterlife.

That being said, you've never encountered a vampire before. You've heard all sorts of horror stories about them. That they're physically stronger than humans, have more acute senses, and could easily bludgeon you to death if they wanted to.

But even if that's actually true, how is it any different than what Johnny will do to you if you don't pay him back?

You press your lips together. Perhaps there's no harm in trying at least once and seeing how it'll go. It's not like you're guaranteed to get accepted for the program anyways. And besides, this is being implemented by the government, so surely, they won't allow any humans to come to harm in the process.

Above all else, you are incredibly desperate, with very little to lose.

So, you decide to take a gamble.

𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗟𝗬 [𝗫]?

...

Your luck might finally be changing for the better, or maybe they're just desperate for applicants, but either way, you got the job.

It was a bit tedious. The screening process was rather lengthy, and they made you do quite a few medical tests to ensure you didn't have any infectious diseases or anything like that. You suppose having a clean bill of health is the one thing required for this position, considering you'll be giving your blood to someone else. Thankfully, even though your life is shit, you've always been rather sturdy, which is the only reason you've lasted this long.

You're currently walking through a glossy white corridor. The building you're in is polished and sleek, some kind of medical company that's been researching vampires for quite a long time. They call themselves Plasma Inc., which is a bit tacky, but you're certainly in no position to judge.

The doctor escorting you holds a clipboard against his chest, and glances over at you every so often.

"We're almost there," he says. After a brief pause, he adds, "There's no need to be nervous."

Honestly, you're a little nervous, but only because you've never done this before. Giving your blood to a vampire... it all sounds so farfetched. You really didn't think this was something you'd ever be doing.

But beggars can't afford to be choosers.

"For the client's privacy and peace of mind, there aren't any cameras inside the room. We will not be able to see or hear anything that happens in there. You signed the confidentiality clause, so please keep in mind that you will be liable for any private information that you happen to disclose."

You knew as much going into this. There's no point in psyching yourself out. Everything's going to be fine. This is all perfectly safe.

...it should be, at least.

"Whenever you're ready," the doctor says. He's stopped in front of a door, and you instinctively gulp as you imagine what—or rather, who—is on the other side.

Okay, then. No reason to back out now. You chose this. It's a desperate measure, and sure, you'll lose a bit of blood in the process, but if it helps you pay off your debt and get back on your feet, then it's easily worth it.

"I'm ready," you say.

The doctor nods briefly, offers you an encouraging smile, then opens the door.

It closes behind you right away, and your eyes instinctively search the room until they land on a motionless, seated figure.

It's a man. Well, a vampire, but still a man. Deep down, you'd been hoping that it might be a woman. A man seems somewhat more intimidating, although you suppose all vampires are stronger than humans, so it wouldn't have made a difference either way.

He's beautiful, though. Vampires are scarce in numbers, and they don't usually go out during the day, so it's unlikely that you would have ever passed by one. But you've only ever heard people speak of them in frightening terms. Never in a million years did you imagine they'd be so utterly gorgeous. Or perhaps this particular vampire is simply an exception.

You don't quite realize how much time you've spent fawning over his appearance until he suddenly stands up.

Instinctively, you flinch, and it's clear that it doesn't go unnoticed.

He narrows his eyes. "If you're not comfortable doing this, you're welcome to leave. I was told that the humans who signed up for this program were all completely willing. I have no intention of taking your blood without your full cooperation."

"Oh. S-Sorry," you stammer. "I'm not uncomfortable. I guess I'm just a little bit starstruck. It's my first time meeting a vampire."

"There's no need to gawk at me. I'm not some animal trapped inside a cage."

He has a rather harsh tongue, but again, you're in no position to judge. Perhaps your reaction offended him, unintentional as it may have been.

"Sorry," you say again, then you offer him a weak smile. "Um... I'm [Name]. I'm not really sure what the etiquette for this sort of thing is, but it's nice to meet you."

It takes him a while to respond. He studies you quietly with those mesmerizing eyes of his, and the silence is awkward, to say the least.

"I'm Xavier," he finally replies. He frowns a bit. "But I didn't come here to chat. If you're ready, I'll like to move on with this as soon as possible."

Right. He's here for the same reason you are. It's not an opportunity for the two of you to exchange pleasantries.

You're here to sell your blood, and he's here to drink it.

"Okay," you swallow. Now that it's come down to it, you can feel your heart beating faster by the second. But this is fine. This is nothing. Compared to all the shit you've already been through, this may as well be a walk in the park.

You walk over to him, taking slow, careful steps, then you sit down in one of the chairs. He does the same, staring at you without blinking the whole time. You watch as he shuffles a bit closer, and he uses his fingers to pull down the collar of your shirt slightly. You shiver at the sensation of his skin brushing against yours. God, his hands are cold.

Xavier stares right into your eyes. "This is your last chance to back out. If you tell me to stop now, I will, but otherwise, I'll take it that you've agreed to move on."

"I'm fine," you reassure. Despite the fact that your stomach is a bundle of nerves right now, you're determined to press on. You need this. There's simply no other option.

You'll do whatever it takes to live on, even if it means selling the very essence that grants you life in the first place.

"Okay," Xavier says, and he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. His jaw unhinges, and the last thing you see before you squeeze your eyes shut is the pearly-white color of his bright, glistening fangs.

He bites into your neck.  

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[lych33dragoncookie]

So, uh... About that update.

Yeah, I got my hopes up. Irrefutably so. This is definitely not a Shadow Milk release update, considering his body isn't even ready yet. Unlike someone else's, which absolutely is...

I'd been paying attention to leaks, and... Yeah, I knew this was gonna happen. Unfortunately, the way things are being set up, Shadow Milk is likely gonna be the last of the beasts to get a full release. Which, to my impulsive side, is quite frustrating, but...

With a few of the new things we've found out, it... Makes sense, all things considered.

This? This isn't normal. He's not normal. None of this is normal. He doesn't even have a properly finished body yet, but he can still, through the power of his soul alone, bend "the other-space", whatever that may be. We already knew he could manipulate and alter matter and/or space, but the fact he can do the things he does in this update, without even having a body, is... Frankly terrifying, as far as implications about his level of power go. Can... Can he inherently control souls? What's his dominion over the realm of spirits? Because, clearly he has some, otherwise...

... He wouldn't be able to do this.

The screams he talks about aren't fabricated, no, even Wind Archer could sense that the Ultimate Cookie was, in fact, in pain, lending credence to the fact that Shadow Milk could, in fact, hear the agonized screams of the souls being drained from these mindless, artificial lifeforms.

So, I guess we now know Shadow Milk, one way or another, can both perceive and manipulate the spirit realm as he pleases, and that seems to be how he afflicts people with hallucinations and visions. By giving them a glimpse into a realm he has a scary degree of control over.

I'd also like to correct my previous post's statements, because...

Yeah, he's here strictly to fuck with Wind. He's just here to have fun while his body is in the works. The Cake Witch seems to have appeared on its own, and Wind is clearly of no threat to Dark Enchantress's plans. So he... Just showed up to fuck with him. Not to ensure his death, not to test out his new body, no. He couldn't actually do anything, for the most part. He just wanted to have fun.

I love it.

Although... Clearly, it's not like he has no power over the physical realm.

Wind Archer's work is undone. Immediately. Just like that. And, presumably, he's also the reason Burning Spice awakens. Though, this may not necessarily be control over the physical realm, he could just use his dominion over the spirit realm to take away the lifeforms' peace, and immediately bring back their suffering. Just as he could perceive it perfectly, he can reinstate it the moment it's soothed.

And I just have to think... Has he been here this whole time? Bound to the laboratorium, hearing all these little things scream in agony, writhing, drained of life? This whole time? And he's still overjoyed to help carry on the process? There's no way Dark Enchantress could sense that same suffering, only he can, and he still goes along with it anyways, and he enjoys it. Every. Single. Second of it.

Christ, man. What the fuck is wrong with you.

I promise this isn't just a Shadow Milk blog, i just think he's neat

[driftingmoonmenace]

Ok ok ok I'm gonna just dump all my DCA OC thoughts/info in a post cause I'm shy with rambling about them individually with ppl atm 👉👈💦

BUT OK SO I've been like rattling this idea around in my brain for quite a while! At first I just had Paradox and he was just in his own little AU world thing, but then I decided to just take all my DCA ocs and shove them into a world together and they just work at different Pizzaplexs and stuff.

Paradox's info is still pretty much the same! He's tired of being treated badly by adults and acting out by retaliating with pranks and it's getting on Fazco's last nerve. So they hired a handler to keep him in check.

I got my other Eclipse model, Equinox, he's from a defunct Pizzaplex, there's a lot that went into it closing down, but before he could be decommissioned like the rest, he managed to escape and is 'on the run'. He travels cross-country on a motorcycle with a mission to help other animatronics get out from under Fazco. He totally leans into the 'badboy' persona and has modified himself over time to look how he wants to.

And then there's Umbra! He's a Moon model that Equinox picked up on his travels, and is his journey partner! Umbra was also a Daycare Attendant and had a Sun counterpart, though unfortunately he was officially decommissioned before Umbra could do anything. It's a sensitive subject for him and he's completely on-board with Equinox's plan to save as many animatronics as they can because of it, and maybe take Fazco down too. Umbra is super smart, and a little shy. He tries to make up the plans, but half the time Equinox goes jumping into potential danger before he can even finish getting his thoughts out. It exasperates him, but Equinox is 'totally cool' to him and man he wishes he could be like that and boy he's kinda hot too oh wait wait wait keep it together!

Lumi and Nova are Daycare Attendants who were separated and updated as part of a rebranding for their pizzaplex! Though mysteriously after a year, Nova has gone missing and Lumi has no idea where he's gone. Every night Lumi tries to find clues and access computers to try to find out what happened to him along with searching the pizzaplex from top to bottom. (Nova is actually alive but was moved to a completely separate pizzaplex where Fazco figured he'd 'fit in' better and hasn't made up their mind if they want to keep Lumi alone or build another Sun counterpart for him.)

Then I got Sol and Lune, they're mini Sun and Moon DCA models, and were made more so to be helpers for human daycare employees rather than actual DCAs. They were made as a test run in comparison to regular DCA models and it was found that the regular DCAs were more popular with the kids than the mini versions, so now they don't come out too often and are kept basically in a storage closet. They're only let out when a certain threshold amount of kids is met and the human employees need help or for events. Sol is fed up with being a 'toy stuffed in a closet' and is making plans to escape. Lune tries to be a voice of reason but Sol is pretty hard-headed.

Last but not least I got my pink DCA, Astra! I still don't know much about them, but I think she'd be the next DCA model that Equinox and Umbra find. She's got wings, though she can't fly, and I think she's a beta model that isn't released to the public. They're not quite a Sun model but close to it, not sure how to describe it really! Super sweet, upbeat, and cutesy but they're ready to throw hands and they pack quite the punch for being so petite!

I also may have more DCA OCs knocking around in my brain as vague ideas atm that eventually will get thrown into this hot mess of a mix later...but uh YEAH!

Eventually everything just goes to shit with Fazco and all my OCs end up in a group together but I haven't figured out everything yet. There's a plot in there somewhere! *vague hand gestures*

[phonkscribes]

Loser Wesker practically barking because reader is back and now in hd in Evil Resident™ Remake!!$!$!$!!$

Back from the Dead... sort of.

He hasn't seen them in ages, and as a fan of such an iconic(and unfortunately deceased) character, the smallest crumb or appearance of his favorite Evil Resident character is enough to have him obsessing over the remake just to view the Reader in all their glory. In which, Loser! Wesker starts raving like the fanatic he is over his beloved villain.

When it was first announced that they were remaking the fourth installation of the mainline game, Wesker couldn't say that he really cared, the protagonist of that game wasn't his favorite to play through but it set the foundation for how the future games would play like. The grinding for better weapons wasn't all that great either, and there were certain parts that he'd rather skip over from how tedious they were, and he honestly wouldn't have pre-ordered it had it not been for one very important detail. Since the fifth release of the Evil Resident franchise, you would finally be making a return, and such was teased in the trailer for the remake. He recalls watching it for the first time, with baited breath as the teaser played out. The better graphics was certainly something to behold, but none of that mattered until he saw the familiar outline of your face, only in better detail and played by someone who encompassed the very idea of who you were.

And then, when he didn't think it could be any better than it was, he was graced by that lovely voice of yours. The sweet sound of your timbre elicited a response within himself that could be likened to a starving dog, just about ready to have his treat. Swallowing thickly, he had to calm himself, pressing a gloved hand to his mouth to quickly muffle and suppress the downright joy at finally having his muse return to him. And in such an honorable fashion. Wesker had his doubts, because there was only so much a mere actor could comprehend about you, they likely wouldn't play you to the tune he desired for your image and character... but this was something, something after years of nothing. The only thing he could celebrate your existence through was the erasure of your death via fanfics and indulging in the content that others lovingly crafted for you.

Now he could have more to play with, more content to keep him pacified and sated until the next installment receives its inevitable remake or remaster. You might be nearing the precipice of your death, retold for the next generation, but he would savor every moment he could have with you. Yet again, you're at the front and center of his mind, this time seating yourself(literally) in the center of his screen as he analyzes every subtle movement that he can. Hell, he hasn't even started playing it yet, and he's already taking as many pictures as he can for his designated folder on his hard drive. The devil works hard, but Wesker works harder. And when he finally receives his copy, he cannot help himself but to stare at the paused cutscene where your mocking grin graces his monitor. Observing you closely, he wants to make sure that he gets everything right, equipped with a notebook in hand even.

If you think the slightest thing is getting past his eye, you'd be dead wrong. This close appraisal of your character is imperative to the new wave of fics he has to write now, because if even the slightest detail is off, it will irritate him. Especially if some upity new fan thinks they can unseat him from the throne he has crafted within the community. No one gets you like he does, and Wesker isn't shy of announcing that to the new fans that make abhorrent judgements about your character. The mischaracterization of his beloved muse could very well be his demise, but he would rather die than to let those degenerates capture you all wrong. Your time might've been sparse in the remake, but it was time enough, DLC included.

[puella-1n-somn10]

⚔️Puella Magi Madoka Magica x Pokemon Sword/Shield: Hop and his Witch Form⚔️

Word count w/o intro: 11,703

Look, I know that the Traveler from Genshin won that poll, but...if I may be honest, I am not ready for what concept I had for them to completely topple apart all thanks to a single shred of lore being aimed at my head at mach speed. Trust me, fellas, I saw the roller coaster that is the Fontaine chapter; if shit is that crazy while we are halfway through the main story, then I dread the revelations that will befall us all when SNEZHNAYA rolls around-!

With all that being said...welcome back, ladies, gents, and those who have casted the dreaded concept of gender out of their lives! For those who are unaware, we are here today to witness what would happen if I were to take the worldbuilding of Puella Magi Madoka Magica and apply them to other media. Today's unfortunate guest for today is none other than the goat himself, Hop!

...Not funny? Ah, alright-

Yes, I am aware that Hop's reputation amongst the fanbase is...controversial at best. Generally speaking, I've noticed that the negative image of this character was formed by the fans prematurely judging him based on his initial lines of dialogue, passionate (which is often mischaracterized as cheerful) attitude, and, I shit you all not, animations (which is more of a fault caused by tight release schedules and the developers being rushed than that of the character himself). From these alone, he tends to be placed on tiers lower than the fucking Gen 6 rivals (no hate towards them, promise, I just wish they were fleshed out more)- which proves to me that not only are those types of Pokemon fans purely visual beings, but that media literacy is dead, rotting, and its tombstone has been Hyper Beamed to Hell and back-

BUT we're not here to rant now, aren't we? My...personal, burning distaste towards those who call him a Hau clone aside, we are here to dissect his character- in more literal ways than one! If I may be honest, this analysis post thinly disguised as a silly, crossover ficlet was created as a thought and writing exercise for myself, and it was quite fun, if I must admit! So I hope from the bottom of my heart that you guys find as much joy in Hop's pain and suffering as I did while writing it!

Just a few quick warnings, this post will contain mentions of child neglect and favoritism, implications of social ostracization and public shaming, and, I cannot stress this enough, mentions of self destruction/S-H/su-c-de. If any of these themes are too triggering, especially that last one, please, please click away! I am being serious here- take the utmost care, and be safe!

Of course, spoilers for Madoka Magica, Magia Record (Anime ver.), and Pokemon SWSH are right up ahead! If I may be honest, I haven't touched upon the DLCs yet, so spoilers regarding them will be minimal at most. There will also be shades of PostwickShipping (Hop <3 Gloria) present, so if that isn't your cup of tea, I sincerely apologize.

It would also be fitting to play some Decretum on the side, too, especially when we get to the despair bit- God damn, he and Sayaka need to be buddies.

-The Wish, Possible Powers, and Soul Gem-

"Before we ever started out on this journey… I remember watching Lee on the telly. He was like a bright star, so strong I could hardly bear to look right at him. But now, I can tell just how strong he really is… And what he's got that I haven't…"

Now, I could go the easy way and say that he'd wish to be as great as Leon- to become as strong as the champion and equally undefeatable, but, honestly, not only does this feel cheap, it feels so...unlike Hop as a character. He doesn't just want to defeat Leon- he wants to prove his worth and make his mark as a trainer. Hop, like the rest of Galar, idolizes his brother- so much so that he copied his strategies and every move; a mistake that had gotten him to lose the fight in the Circhester stadium even after facing off against so many trials and tribulations-

After all, as Bede said it in his own...brutish way, if people looked down on Hop, they will do the same to Leon - the man who Hop looks up to as not just an older sibling, but as a symbol- as an unshakable LEGEND, and not just as a human being -. So if the perception of the man who Hop saw as a hero was to shake all thanks to him...it'd be quite devastating, to say the least. It was this possibility that hit him the most- where his worth and identity came into question.

Hop may dislike losing - a sentiment that grows stronger every time you defeat him -, but what he fears even more is disappointing others; lowering his and his brother's worth in their eyes. He wanted to be number #1 because it was expected of him to do so, by himself, by the public, and, when you think about it, even by his family - whether consciously or not -...

After all, just look at his home- do you see any pictures of Hop around? Left and right you find memorabilia and trophies belonging to Leon, but how much mementos of Hop can you find? Whether or not he was aware of it, Hop craved not just the glory of his brother, but also the validation and positive attention.

This was his path in life- no, this was his destiny, as he'd put it; to become as strong as his hero and receive that blazing torch after living in his shadow for so long. To live up to his splendor, to inspire others to get up and take a stance, and to make something out of himself. His brother was a hero- so it makes sense to imitate someone as amazing and strong as him.

So, after analyzing his character for a bit, his wish could go along the lines of wanting to be by his brother's side, or, more appropriately, to make an impact on the world and the lives of others like he did. After all, we are assuming that he made the contract a bit before his constant losses began to fuck with him; he had confidence in his abilities at least during the beginning, and was certain that he was going to emerge from the final battle victorious.

The powers resulting from this wish could go in a lot of different ways; after all, wishing to make an impact is quite abstract. It isn't like he wished for someone else to get healed or to win on a lottery; so trying to make powers based on that would be tricky. My best guess is that his powers are associated with memories and legacies, which, once more, also fits in really well with how he documented and tried to mimic Leon's strategies and actions.

Now, before we focus on his soul gem and witness it crumble along with his self-esteem, we're going to take a good look at his attire upon transformation into his Magical Boy form- an aspect that, regrettably, I've forgotten to cover back while I was analyzing Medic. Now, this part may be a little unclear to some upon first reviewing the designs present in PMMM, but a pattern is there- and one of the most common reasons behind a magi's design is the intent behind their wish and their desires before or after taking on the contract. In order to prove my point, I'm gonna list some examples:

Sayaka Miki is a knight in shining armor; she wanted to uphold the ideal of a magical girl and fight for what's right

Homura Akemi's outfit is rather...funerary, for lack of a better term; she made her wish as result of her losing Madoka, and had more or less doomed herself to watching the demise of her beloved over and over again

Nagisa's outfit looks like an everyday, ordinary outfit for someone her age; she craved a normal life where she was able to be just like the other kids around her- not having to worry about living in a dump and caring for an unstable parent

Iroha's design invokes the idea of a ranger or even a mercenary; she is dedicated to finding her sister at what cost, even if most of the evidence (or lack there-of) pointed towards Ui not existing in the first place

Being in the spotlight of someone else's life, looking up to his brother, and making said champion an example on how he should lead his life...I think a stereotypical, legendary hero might do it; the main protagonist of tales like Beowulf or even your everyday JRPGs. Hop often made references to him 'weaving his own legend', so this would make perfect sense!

Speaking of-

Regarding his soul gem's shape, simple- upon transformation, it would look just like a small flame placed on his solar plexus like a brooch or button. Comparisons to Leon's charizard aside, it is a simple and straightforward symbol representing his personality; passionate, competitive, hot-headed, and bright- but all flames are prone to dying out one way or another. Hop's association with fire is also presented to us in-canon in his second league card, with him pulling off Leon's signature pose as flames wildly danced around him.

This also brings the idea of him burning himself away to fit into his ideal of a champion to mind, or literally burning himself out. A raging fire ready to render all that is in its path into ash- including himself.

The emblem on the middle of its egg form is a little harder for me to interpret fully. I could go with the easy way and say that it's probably the same as its form upon his Puer Magi transformation, but we all know that my perfectionist ass would not just simply settle with that. The options on our hands are as follows;

The easy option, the Hop flower (symbolizing how becoming a professor is his true calling in life)

A coat of arms (royalty themes- also, a pun on Eternatus' eternamax form, coat of ARMS, heheh)

A spiral (symbol of futility, continuation, cycles, and a downward spiral)

A coat of arms WITH a spiral in the middle (look at the above two points)

A flag (him wishing to create his own legend, and how he was initially a foot ahead of us during the start of our journey together)

A windmill (...we'll get to that, but let's assume it's because of Postwick for now- I personally prefer this one)

A shield with two crossed swords (again, royalty and hero themes)

As for its color, here is where things get interesting; I already spoke about how most soul gems correspond with the eye color of their respective magi, since "eyes are the windows to a person's soul", so a brilliant gold would fit both with this unwritten rule and thematically. However, then I got thinking- Red is also an applicable color, right? It fits his personality, and would clash really well with the cool purples and blues...until I realized that not only is red already going to be present as a sort of secondary (if not primary) color to go along with the existing cool palette in mind, but the added gold highlights would embolden it and make sure this design really pops.

Besides, making red a central color for his magi outfit also adds in to the idea of him still mimicking Leon, whose associated colors are purple, gold, and, of course, the reds of his cape! We aren't completely sure as to how much control a magi has over the outfit they'll don upon transformation, but we do know that Madoka actually designed her own magical clothing, so some input from the magi themselves, whether consciously or not, does contribute to the matter. This would also make a cute little homage to his champion outfit in Pokemon Masters EX!

One last point before we get to the part you've all been waiting for, we have to look at his weapon; yes, his powers are probably associated with memories or even perception, but, according to my research, one's weapon doesn't necessarily have to be tied to the wish. As a matter of fact, aside from Mami's ribbons (symbolizing her being tied to the life of a magical girl and her capturing others in this web of malice whether consciously or not- a literal lifeline), most of the cast's weapons are unrelated to the wishes made, and, like the aforementioned outfits, are more tied to the magi's intents or even personalities;

Nagisa's is a trumpet that blows out bubbles. She wanted her mother to hear her, but she's only ever able to let out little squeaks; the dichotomy between her desire to be acknowledged and wanting to be a decent daughter to a horrible person like her mother.

Homura's is a shield; she wishes to protect Madoka, but a shield alone cannot deflect everything threatening her sweet rose. There's also the symbolism of her hiding behind a shield, both as Moemura (shy and reserved) and Cool Homu (covering her emotions with an aloof exterior); in both cases, she's hiding herself away from the world.

Sayaka's is a cutlass sword. Go figure.

I am not completely sure on Madoka's; she dislikes brutal fighting, so it would make sense for her to use a long-range weapon that she's able to use to snipe enemies from a safe-enough distance. I also heard that a bow and arrow have some sort of significance in Christian lore, but, to be frank, I am not completely sure about this; this section requires further study.

Again, I gotta thank @bluethepearldiver for saving my butt here and on the upcoming natures section! According to them, since I had already removed swords and shields from the equation in order to make space for both Gloria and Victor, a polearm type of weapon would fit him the most! In their own, brilliant words, it is "representing how unattainable his goal ultimately is", and, in my opinion, it is a mid-range weapon- when utilized correctly, Hop would be able to conquer battles that would require either long or short ranged attacks to clear! Also, personally, it brings the image of a sheep herder to mind.

As for the specific type of polearm, that one would require a lot more creativity, but, since Hop comes from Postwick, a weapon that originates from Europe would be fitting. After thinking about it, I believe his weapon is probably a Halberd, due to how it can pierce, chop, or slash depending on the situation. It would also symbolize poor, bright-eyed Hop constantly changing his strategies and teams in order to catch up to us- to finally match us in strength. Every time we met him, he would have different strategies, a different team, a different outlook- he tried every viable, effective strategy, tearing apart the aspects of himself that were deemed roadblocks, pushing himself until he was burning himself way too brightly for his own good, yet...

-Descent Into Despair-

He lost. He had lost yet again, hasn't he?

His grip on the pokeball was shaky. The eyes of the crowd fixated on him as the last of his pokemon fell to the ground. Frozen air filled his lungs; his eyes felt like they were turned to stone, as did the veins in his arms.

The whispers grew louder; the crowd's collective judgement was being passed from one attendant to another. His teeth were about to shatter from the pressure around him alone. Not even Melony's concerns were registered on his mind; all the words around him amalgamated into a brute cacophony that choked all the will and rationality out of him.

His heart was on fire. His lips were dried as he stared at the nothingness before him. It was so hard to continue standing up- fucking impossible to focus on anything but this blunder forged by his own hands- which he now sees as nothing but useless vestiges. His heart was a war drum in the midst of conflict; beating as though the drummer's life was on the line if they were to dare and drop the pace. How he wanted to gouge his own eyes out and rip those ears out...

"Pitiful."

What on Earth was he missing?

He tried to change his strategies, he really did. The sad look on his pokemon’s eyes broke him every time, but they just couldn’t be of good help…he had to be a better trainer.

That’s what good trainers do, right? They make sure their teams were optimal. After all, strategy came first; that was what he learned from all these battles that long moved his heart.

"Foolish."

Another loss.

He looked down at his final, fallen comrade, not taking his shaking hands into account. Was it the cold? The stress? The sheer disbelief of what was before him?

Or was it frustration? A poison seeping between his clenched teeth- ready to curse out himself and direct his anger to the world? Readying him to pound against the earth beneath him until his knuckles were mangled and bloody?

No...no, this can't be it. He had to push himself further- he had to be better. Not a single Pokemon of his would listen to someone as fragile as he was; he had to make an example out of himself if he had to be a strong leader- a hero to them...

"Hypocrite."

Wooloo...

You promised, didn't you?

He stifled his own sobs. Oh, how could you have done this to them, Hop? They were the closest thing you had to a childhood friend! They were right by your side to the very end! All you had to do was to keep their head up, tell them it wasn't their fault, and that you would still enter the league together if you both focused! All you had to do was stay strong-

But you couldn't. You just had to up and leave them; cast them to the dirt where you dragged his good name through.

In the end, he couldn't even uphold that.

"Pathetic."

Over and over...over and over, he had repeated this fruitless, pitiful endeavor- all to no avail.

Finding himself floating adrift, Hop feels as though his very existence was slowly slipping from his fingers; becoming one with the very void surrounding him. He couldn't even feel his limbs, much less his face.

No matter how much he had stretched himself so thin, it just wouldn't work. The evidence was there before him, for all of Galar to see- his true rival and his brother on that field together, the latter holding the other's hand and raising it up in the air...that no matter what he did, all the sacrifices he had made, it was all up there in the air like smoke. His dreams, hopes, and ambitions- gone with what shine in his eyes that were left.

Oh, little sheep...do you not realize that you have tangled yourself within this spider web- the very definition of insanity?

"Worthless."

He's tired.

With each loss, it got a lot harder for him to get up and walk away.

His legs were shaking, and not just due to the harsh winds around him. The winds were picking up their pace, but the eyes, the eyes, the eyes-

Why must you insist on further embarrassing yourself, young man? Can't you tell when it's the time for you to just drop everything and move on with something better for everyone else's sake?

You're just embarrassing yourself at this point- nothing more than a clown attracting disrespect and shame like flies to a rotting carcass much like yourself.

...

Yeah...

What if...it was him?

He couldn't take the watchful gazes of the crowded streets anymore. Oh, how he wanted to hide away in the corners of the world- render his own face into nothing but a crimson pulp just so their judgemental glares, mocking smiles, and whispers would finally leave him alone and hollow.

His heart was racing- his veins were on fire, and his arms were about to burst.

It was too much... Upon stumbling upon a silent, empty, dirty alleyway, he slumped onto his knees as he shook from both the cold and pressure of all the bottled up frustrations in him. At long last, the waterworks finally broke out. Only the night sky and howling winds were his current company; doing little to distract him from his pained heartbeats and dried up throat.

He couldn't hold on to his victories, no matter how feeble or small. It didn't matter what he did or how much he tried, all that he's tried holding on to will just slip away from his fingers, like the breaths of fresh, cold air escaping him; inhaling just enough as to not allow him to pass out on the spot, but it was only that much.

The sound of metal clanging on the ground escaped his ears. It was only when he was finally slumped on the ground that he had noticed the fading luminescence just before his reach. Even as his body shook from the mental strain and the cold, he still recognized the jewel that was on the dirtied ground. Hands shaking, he slowly picked up the once brilliant object...

Through jittering teeth, he just couldn't help but sob whilst instinctively smiling; the sound coming out like a sort of soft giggle...

Hahahah...oh, don't tell him- don't tell him he couldn't...

What a mockery- look at him, everyone! Not only had he failed the challenges before him, but, oh, this poor damn pest- he couldn't even look after his own damn soul gem! The very thing he had traded away what was left of his identity outside of the league for- and even then, with his wish, it only made sure that his mistakes would return to him in even stronger, more merciless manners. Was it due to him being unable to focus on both perfecting his strategies and his duties as a puer magi?

For all Hop cared at that moment, it was just another sign of his pathetic, useless existence. Worthlessness- no, he was way beneath that; he had failed. He had failed, he had failed, he had failed, he lost, he had motherfucking lost.

Answer yourself this, Hop- Do tell how you expected to come so far like this! How you have managed to shamble and shuffle through the league challenge like the worm you are, with nothing but another's achievements to your name- and you couldn't even take good care of that!

"...Useless..."

Hop shakily breathed out.

"Hah...if only I wasn't born so useless..."

His grip on both sides of his head grew tighter. As he gritted his teeth and his eyes twitched, one last thought flashed in his mind-

"There's...nowhere left for me..."

"Everyone else is moving on without someone...some pest like I am..."

With all the air that was left in his lungs, Hop roared into the night and unleashed all the grief in his heart. His anguished wail was interrupted by a sudden crash, and all that was left were the howling, autumnal winds...

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Word of the contestants' escalating behaviors grew amongst the people of Galar.

At first, it manifested as deepened anxieties; competitors being so overwhelmed by the upcoming events that it caused them to hyperventilate, shake uncontrollably in between sobs and unintelligible screams, or, at worst, completely melt down; faces reddened by tears as they were unable to remove themselves from the ground due to the paralyzing nervousness and hysteria. Initially, these incidents were brushed off as being related to the individuals' worries over the nature of the Gym Challenge, on top of the resulting trauma caused by the Darkest Day; even after the region was granted another chance at seeing the bright, blue skies, tensions were still at an all-time high, so, at the time, this appeared to have been the most rational conclusion.

It was when they've descended into thrashing bitterness and violence, however, that concern was finally demanded and raised- and, along with them, a whole basket of questions that craved all the answers in the world; anything to make sense of what was unraveling. Many a stadium had to close down - some even in the midst of these breakouts - for investigation purposes in order to get to the bottom of this anomaly.

Before long, rumors began to spread amongst the Galarian public- both on the streets and on social media; ranging from a contamination of sorts, to possible side effects of the Darkest Day that the current chairman was uninformed of. In the end, one by one, the majority of the gym leaders had to step forward admit that they knew as much as the rest did regarding the matter, but that did little to help stop the creation and spread of conspiracy theories, and they soon devolved into a competition of its own; on whose hypothesis is the most click-worthy and attention-grabbing.

Nothing was stacking up; everything had been tested - the water, the air, the soil, and especially the power spots -, the stadiums were inspected from top to bottom, and even the gym leaders were interviewed; it all came back negative.

The chairman himself had gone dark.

In the midst of the mass hysteria, right everyone's noses, the range of whatever was influencing these stadiums, the...being that has sending all these people into these frenzies...was growing.

Violent breakouts and missing persons reports spiked without ever showing a sign of slowing down. Nay, not even the gym leaders were spared- with Bea finally coming to her senses while Allister tried to subdue her and not hurt the rest around her, and Milo's herd of Wooloo going completely berserk and in complete panic not unlike the contestants and their own pokemon.

It was at its assumed worst when it had finally reached Postwick Town. Most of Galar had succumbed to what was engulfing it with its malice and twisted hopes, and, according to theorists, they doubted it would stop there. The people residing in the Isle of Armor and Crown Tundra were given the order to lock down and cease all functions until further information's released, in the vain hopes of preventing the spread of its influence.

And then-

Silence.

Everything around them was completely dim, with nothing but small flickers of flame and their own eyes' adaptation to help traverse them through what became of the region; a dim, cold land with ashy skies overhead, overrun with scared wildlife and...monsters- beasts you have never seen the likes of before. Perhaps staying still while you're able to recognize Galar while you could would be the wisest choice; stray far enough, and the world around you will fade, shift, and turn, until you find yourself not outdoors anymore, but in a dingy, suffocating hallway filled with cracks and little to no light-

and, soon enough, you will realize that you are not alone.

To the most fortunate (or unlucky, depending on the perspective), the sight of the missing people was there for them to see; lined up for their next battles and subsequent executions. Days of being trapped, fought, beaten up, and isolated in pain did a number on their psyches, and that is without mentioning the existing effects that have already engulfed Galar; plunging them into insanity.

By the braver and most informed few, most of the missing people have currently been accounted for- most, had it not been for the unfortunate casualties resulting from...all that has been unfolding around them, whether they were still yet to be found, were done in by beasts swarming through these twisting tunnels, condemned by whatever's waiting for them at the center of this cursed maze, or...just couldn't take it anymore, is still up in the air. Those whose statuses have not yet been confirmed included the younger brother of the former champion himself- who, quite possibly, may have been one of the earliest victims, if the timeline was to serve them right-

Oh, but if only they knew better- that the bright-eyed, enthusiastic Hop was right back to where it all started; watching the competition from atop the stage, waiting for the next match to begin. The empty husk that was once "Hop" was silent; slumped to the back to his seat with his dull, milky eyes staring into the distance, as the crowds roared once the hero and his new challenger entered the fray.

Yes...yes! Cheer for him! ONLY HIM!

Shaking from the cold and the tension of her surroundings, Gloria's attention darted from the armored monstrosity to her unconscious rival amongst the masses. His colors all but completely desaturated- it was nothing short of a miracle seeing his body still somewhat intact, though his sunken face and sloughing skin - some even falling as soon as she grabbed on to him; revealing pale bone -...without thinking, the armored girl screamed.

Contrasting Gloria's priority shifting from grabbing on to Hop's corpse and make a break for it to taking down that thing who must have caused it, Leon was...silent. His heart sank as he fell on his knees- his eyes shook as he fixated on the monster before them. His blood ran ice cold; it was so hard to breathe without sobbing...

Gloria and the gym leaders who have finally located the arena - those who have and haven't contracted - deemed that being a monster- Hop's God damned murderer, but Leon knew better.

The gold hues that were pooling from what's assumed to be the monster's eyes were unmistakable.

His own little brother was right before him, waiting to fight him in the middle of this arena-

Just like how he had promised- like how he had always wished for...

-The Witch's Nature-

Ah, the most unpredictable section of this post- the one where yours truly is expected to agonize and sob over all the options before me. Character complexities are complex! Multiple reasons behind despair! Oh, how is your truly ever going to choose the perfect nature for a warlock that would not only encompass the magi's goals and history with only a few words, but one that would also feel fitting for a spooky being like a witch?!

Welp- once more, I have thank Blue for their brilliant input once more! They've decided that his nature would be Admiration, and, honestly, it's genius! It not only fits his overall character, goals, and what caused his sanity to go downhill with the brakes cut off, but it has the right amount of dissonance that the witches of PMMM are known for! Again, this has been your reminder to support them- c'mon, chop chop, that's an order.

Of course, nothing wrong with mentioning all the other, though scrapped, natures. Again, you're all free to reinterpret the warlock to your hearts' content, and if you do have any other suggestion that would fit, please let me know! I not only want to understand Hop's character better, but I do wish to improve my character-deciphering and writing skills. Once more, I encourage all sorts of fair criticism heading my way, and, with all that being said, here's the losers' club:

Reflective

Smitten

Idolizing/Idolization

Competitive (decided that this one might fit Nemona better if I ever got into ScaVio and made a witch for her. Later. Inshallah.)

Self-abandonment (look at the above, but with Bede instead)

Self-immolation

Guilty

To yearn/Yearning (again, Nemona)

-The Witch's Appearance-

"It's not enough! I've got to try harder! And harder and harder till no one's laughing!"

Alright, first thing's first, before we dive into ANYTHING, we need to touch upon Hop's self-image and how it transforms through the course of the game. From the beginning, he is just so confident in his abilities and goals; it wasn't just a desire, it's a goal- he will beat Leon! He will become champion! One day, he's going to be on that stage; he WILL fight Leon, and he WILL beat him- just we wait!

And 'wait' we didn't.

For all his talk about creating his own legend, of taking up the mantle, we have done nothing but drag his face through the dirt without failure.

The more we beat that poor fella up, the more...desperate he became, and it gets cranked up to 11 once Bede humiliated him; calling him a waste of space, and that all he is doing is tainting his brother's legacy by trying, so it would be best for all parties involved he should just stop that. If he just stopped trying at all. If he just gave up at once. He still tries to maintain the spirit of friendly competition between the main character and himself, but the constant humiliation has been getting to him, and the talons that are digging in to his mind are sharp.

It is then that we finally realize that the once-confident trainer who initially accompanied us is no more. This hatred towards himself only grew with time, and, even when he had reintegrated Wooloo/Dubwool into his team, his self-worth was still nigh-non existent; he dared not accompany us during even the post-game story, believing that he would just be slowing us all down, and how we would fare and be better without someone like him around.

In Hop's eyes, he was a burden; a waste of space, and, no matter how much he tried to fight it, those words would persistently repeat in his mind. His constant defeats didn't help, either, whether it was by our or any other trainer's hands-

Hell, it can be argued that Hop's earlier confidence and passion were nothing but "fronts"; he had always cheered Leon on and idealized (dare I say even worshiped) him to no end, but, aside from the promise that he would, one day, defeat his brother and become a champion, what other positive things did he say about himself? What other dreams did he hold? He owed so much of his own knowledge about Pokemon battles to Leon, after all. This can be seen in the third episode of Pokemon: Twilight Wings, if we choose to interpret Wooloo's actions as reflective of Hop's- trying to be something it is not, and, ultimately, causing it to stray far from "home".

He wanted to be the hero of his own story. That's all he wished for. Instead, we've shoved him into the sidelines- face first on the dirt, without even realizing our strengths.

History repeats once more- the tale of Leon and Sonia all over again.

The image of a knight, a warrior, a hero is definitely a strong base to start it all off. The ideal knight in shining armor, he who stands up for everything right- the unbeatable champion of the people. Not just a person to look up to, but a symbol- that's all he wanted to become; just like how he saw his brother.

When he realized that his current tactics didn't work, everything had to go out the window. We aren't saying this lightly- everything. His plans, his . He had to change everything about himself- until he realized that the problem weren't his teams or his plans...it was him. It has always been his fault- he was just weak, nothing more than a pathetic worm.

The armor is scraping every fiber of his being. No matter what, he still cannot attain the strength and glory of a champion- so he has to keep doing this; break and melt himself. It isn't right, it hurts, but he deserves that pain- he deserves the agony and so much worse for the sin of his existence.

But it's not enough. It's not enough, and it will never be enough. Flaming hot, red daggers will forever pierce through his flesh and skin; melting and reshaping him not necessarily just to fit his desired goal, but as punishment.

It doesn't matter, though. It doesn't change his sheer, fucking incompetence. He'd bash himself against the wall, turn his knuckles bloody, and have his howls of torment be drowned out by his observers' whispers and harsh judgements, but it doesn't change the fact that he deserved every second of it. He had to keep molding himself, he had to suffer, he had to pay for being such a pest to everyone's lives and for being so weak...

No matter how much he tried, it doesn't change the truth that he is no damn hero; he is here as a prisoner, present to repent for his crimes of his pathetic existence...

Oh, yeah. Futility is not just a present theme, but we are running to the HILLS with it.

Next up, we look at his actions- the "spice" and depth this brings to his warlock's design.

Let's retrace our steps a bit and look at Hop's character before and after the main story; as soon as we boot up the game for the first time, there we see Hop being so excited over his brother finally coming home- he was practically shaking and jumping by the news of it alone! He just couldn't wait to see him again, much less what he must have brought back with him- and, when he laid his eyes on the starters and chose his, he was over the moon and the sun; this was the beginning of his legacy! Ah, even his own mother said that he had to learn some patience.

Compare and contrast to his attitude in postgame- he's a lot more mellowed out, but that can be better described as him finally being burnt out. He had nowhere to go, no goal to attain, and not a single strength to his name. Bede and Marnie are training to become gym leaders, Leon's the new chairman of the Galar league, Sonia is on the way to become the new regional professor, but Hop? There was nothing left for him. There isn't anything he was able to do that others could do even better- all that was left for him was to rot in the fields, forgotten and cast away like the object of shame he was.

"I don't know how much I can really help... If I come along, I might just end up slowing the rest of you down..."

I've already established how the warlock might be imprisoned in a sense; all to symbolize how he must have felt during his downfall and the lengths he went through in order to become someone worthy of becoming champion- of sharing his brother's legacy, but we should also take how he first started off into account. We already have the pain, but where is the tragedy in it all? The downfall of his confidence? The fall of Hop, the once bright-eyed, confident, and proud young man? How could we symbolize the face that we have flicked his passion and convictions away with the push of our buttons?

Passion...glory...destruction...hotheadedness...Lee...Charizard...

"Fire- and lots of it!"

Yeah, this should not come off as a surprise - given how I have already mentioned it dozens of times already -, but, hey, if Ophelia has a lot of flames in her design to symbolize the tragic end of her family and her own hotheadedness, then I can't see why the same cannot be applicable to our uncrowned prince of Galar. Truth be told, I think the fire is burning at him to this day; as I already mentioned, he is in a constant state of melting down and reshaping himself to no end to fit an ideal that is so far away from him, and what better way to do so than by forcing himself to endure these flames to no end- not just to burn away all his mistakes, but to subject himself to what rage and disappointment he believes Leon must be feeling? You cannot ask for a more fitting punishment, no? Quite ironic as well, if you'd ask me.

Plus, as a warlock, he wants the people to cheer for him- only him! What better way is there to grab their attention and love than by becoming the brightest thing on the battlefield?! Yes, it's all worth it in the end, hearing the people of Galar scream just for him alone- oh, he couldn't be happier! That is all he desires! If we thought Oktavia craved attention, think again.

Speaking of lengths he went through to become someone he is not, let's talk about him changing his teams; this is his point of transformation as a character, where the cracks in his confidence begin to grow alongside his desperation. At this stage, Hop was willing to make any sacrifice necessary to meet that goal of his- if he fails, not only were his dreams on the line, but so was Leon's reputation. The only constant between these teams is the starter Leon gave him- with teary eyes and a regretful heart, he had damned the experiences and memories he shared with the 'mons he caught along the way, for all that mattered at that moment, all that was worth keeping, was the one thing that held any sort of direct connection to his future glory; the very gift his brother gave him. It should be worth it though, right? He's only becoming better, becoming stronger, becoming the best trainer he could be-

Isn't that right, Wooloo?

Oh, man, wooloo. What kind of Hop-centric design would this be if I didn't incorporate this cute little sheep in some form or another? If not the sheer GUILT he must be feeling? Since I already covered how the warlock would be forever unsatisfied with his form, let us talk about the promise he made with Wooloo, and how him breaking it must be haunting him. Just up and abandoning them, his lifelong partner pokemon must hate him for such a cowardly decision- it should hate him; he had backed out of such an important vow between them, and implied that it was their fault that he was unable to reach his goals. Ultimately, it is his guilt and self-hatred that got him here; whenever he wasn't melting down and reforging himself, he was always fighting for the audience's attention- a whole herd of sheep who constantly demand a spectacular show. It felt right for his first partner pokemon to judge him, after all- he must be condemned for his disloyalty...

Building upon the last point- since Wooloo, his very first pokemon, was also removed from the team, this would translate beautifully into him removing parts of himself to fit that perfect mold, and what better way than to add in sheep elements to his design? The warlock having hooves as dark as obsidian for feet? Broken horns that might be mistaken for parts of his armor? Heck, even the gnarly skeletal system resulting from us combining that of a human's and a sheep's? While I am not too sure about what exactly is going on underneath his helmet, I will just assume that at least its base form resembles a mutilated black sheep's face, because of, well, Hop seeing himself as the black sheep of the family. Combined with his halberd, which I am certain would carry on from his last form to this one, this would bring the idea of a twisted sheep herder of sorts, on top of the existing themes of sacrifice that are already associated with cattle in multiple religions.

Of course, we can't go wrong with referencing him copying Leon's tactics in battle and said worship! This, too, will be a source of pain to his warlock; not only does his armor resemble draconic scales (again, Charizard), but the base of his helmet would bear the shape of Leon's beard. This also ties in to the above point of him trying to reshape his form to that of the champion's in order to achieve prestige and victory by following in his hero's footsteps, but its ultimate purpose in the end is the further erasure his form and himself; all that made Hop 'Hop'. He is constantly slicing away at his being just to fit that mold....

Yes, he also gets to keep the cape; much like his halberd, I can't see why this element of his magical boy form would not get carried over here, as it also assists with establishing the theme and desire to be like a big shot like his brother. Its red coloring would also be of nice contrast to the ashen grey or deep darkness of his armor, although it is tattered and not as magnificent as it used to be in his eyes. The armor already boosts the idea of a hero, but, combined with all of the elements from above and Hop himself going down the slippery slope, this monster right here invokes the idea of a fallen hero; bright-eyed protagonists who have become jaded over the course of their journeys or have decided to outright give up on their ideals and goals- some even opting to join the opposing side of the narrative outright.

I should also mention his inability to look at Leon in the face and how he didn't want negative attention to be drawn towards him in spite of Hop's desire to face off against his brother- some eye trauma, maybe? Would the mementos of Leon in his barrier bring him pain? Or...would the warlock be unable to see past the "glory" of the champion and his dreams? How his mistakes are blinding him? Maybe what he saw was so bright, so brilliant, that it blinded him to everything else; turning his eyes into burning pools of blood resembling molten steel?

Now, we calculate his karmic potential, his emotional volatility, and how they contribute to his warlock's strength.

While I was first working on this post, I thought that maybe he would have cracked after he had lost against the gym leader of Circhester Stadium - Melony -; after all, he must have been devastated, with all these eyes watching him as his final pokemon fell, but then I remembered two key details-

His self-esteem did not get any better by the end of the game's main storyline. In fact, it was at its lowest during postgame- and he even brought a comically large shovel to dig wayyyyy deeper, courtesy of Sordward and Shielbert!

His karmic potential not only stems from him being the champion's little brother, but his role in stopping the second Darkest Day.

So, in a way, that loss would be considered to be more of a catalyst for his despair rather than the straw that broke the camel's back, not unlike Sayaka learning the truth behind the soul gems or Hitomi's confession to Kyosuke. He may have brought Dubwool back to his party, he may have appeared okay-ish after we've defeated him in the semi-finals, he may have helped us save the day, but his internal conflict didn't dissolve just like that- you cannot erase all these years of constant comparisons, long-standing dreams, horrible impostor syndrome, and such an inferiority complex just like that with the snap of one's fingers.

Truth be told, he was supposed to finally give in after said semi-finals, but, out of urgency, he held on just for a little while- for just enough time to assist us with finding Leon and stopping Rose's plans. Now that everything was said and done - now that everything was laid to rest -, the eyes just wouldn't stop staring at him, the whispers didn't cease, and Hop...he was tired- he was oh so tired. Falling on his shaky legs and the harsh thoughts in his heads still not slowing down, Hop had finally closed his eyes and gave out his final farewell...

Also, Sordward and Shielbert will die by my hands for making his self esteem go further down the toilet in postgame, I swear to Allah-

From all that, we can see that not only are legends, prophecies, and destinies HUGE themes for when it comes to the design of his barrier, but that his warlock is gonna be powerful. Now, I don't wanna be redundant by saying that he, too, would be as tough as Walpurgisnacht (we've already done that with Medic, though, after thinking about it, he'd be more comparable to Hyades Daybreak), but saving an entire region is, putting it lightly, a huge feat, and that's without us touching upon his supposed connection with the legendary pokemon, one of Galar's heroes of myth, Zacian. In between being tied to almost a hundred destinies (Madoka) and saving the entirety of France (Tart), putting an end to the apocalypse - The Darkest Day - has got to be up there.

I know this sounds like a sort of repetition on my end, but remember what Homura said back during episode 9; "from here on, for every person (one) has saved, (they) will curse another". So, while Medic got his powers thanks of a combination of his own karma and how he had fused 8 other souls into him, Hop's karma was all his. In short, by this logic, Galar is beyond fucked.

Oh, and, y'know, the whole deal with him being the champion's little brother and Gloria's childhood friend. With all that in mind, bro's warlock is not just stupidly powerful, but outright broken. Not at Ultimate!Kriemhild levels, but that's still not good news in of itself, isn't it?

In the end, whether he had completely given up after he had lost to Melony or during some time between the events of the main story and postgame is up to you and your interpretation of Hop as a character. For the sake of this segment alone, I will just go with the idea that, if he despairs before the climax of the main story, his warlock would be a formidable foe, but not yet a world-ending threat like either Walpurgisnacht or Crépuscule de La Reine.

For comparison's sake (and to paint a clearer picture), I'd say that he could be as powerful as Gisela, if not moreso. From the PSP games, we can see how resilient and tough that witch is - so much so that she is tied to both Mami's and Kyoko's backstories -, so surpassing her strength is still a commendable feat. Much like his depiction in the section above, the warlock would still be capable of cursing many stadiums at once and cause such intense panic in order to take the league challenge down with him by making the contestants to go completely berserk, and, if he so wishes, he could render an entire village into ash.

However, if you guys wouldn't mind, I'll still be running with the idea that, thanks to the player, Bede, Sordward, Shieldbert, his family, and Galar's corrupted celebrity culture, the entire region has yet another apocalyptic event to go through, and only Arceus could save them now- basically what happens during the above despair segment. Good job, everyone! Enjoy listening to Grass Skirt Chase while ya could! /j

Now that we got the basic picture of the warlock down, let's cut to the chase and dive in to his barrier. I've had a lot of fun with this one, so buckle up!

As I already mentioned in my previous Medic post, a witch's labyrinth is stated to be the "mental landscape of the magi before they turned into a witch". From analyzing the barriers of the Holy Quintet and the other existing witches from the original anime, I've already deduced that they must be tied to either core memories, coping mechanisms, or desires-

HOWEVER,

A more simplistic take on all that would be "a place that rubs salt on the magi's/witch's wounds"; makes more sense, no? Candeloro is forever alone in her little tea party, Charlotte is in a silent conversation with another doll- unable to speak about what's on her mind, and, for goodness' sake, Ophelia's barrier is underwater. It is just logical to see that a labyrinth is designed to keep the witch miserable; specifically made to remind them of their own shortcomings, mistakes, broken hopes and dreams, and all that they've lost by the act of contracting with an uncaring trickster like Kyubey.

Unsurprisingly, with this idea in mind, I think the barrier would be a twisted version of a stadium, lit up by raging fire. The audience is present; their eyes ever-staring at you as their yells echo throughout the arena. You just know that your actions and failures will be recorded for future generations to see, mock, and spit at- after all, you are now trapped in a legend that is yet to be completed! Yes, even the style of your surroundings looks like it could fit right in an old storybook or any of the murals present across the region. Not too far away from this labyrinth's center, you are able to find multiple cages housing the victims he had captured; fighters worthy enough for him to test his skills on or put on a spectacle for all the audience to see.

In the middle of the battlefield, in the shadow of a large statue behind him, lies the warlock; broken, battered, burnt, and practically melting, but his duty remains clear as daylight- bound to his punishment and his own selfish desires, it has become his goal to defeat you before the audience. It is his destiny to be bound to this stage, having to pay for the sin of his existence.

The trinkets of Leon - or a silhouette that resembles him - that surrounded him in his own house are also present; after all, they are tied to his motivation, admiration towards Lee, and his wish to become champion. Even until now, the warlock and his familiars take good care of them, though he despises the reflection cast by them.

I should also make a quiiiiiiick note Pokemon Masters EX; you see, upon activating a character's sync move, they are displayed in front of locations present in the canon of Pokemon known as their "mindscapes", and, fellas, upon finding out that said places are significant to each person's story and life one way or another, I've realized that I have stumbled upon a hail Mary for PMMM/Pokemon crossover fanatics out there, myself included. Of course, I wouldn't recommend using these mindscapes alone as a sort of easy way to make barriers, but they do act as nifty, optional blueprints or spices to make those labyrinths look more colorful or representative of these characters.

When it comes to Hop, his mindscape, unsurprisingly, depicts Postwick Town. The location doesn't change when he becomes a Neo Champion, with the only alterations made to the artwork is that it is now nighttime and the presence of small flickers of flames dancing around; burning as brightly as the stars above - one more point towards fire being a persistent theme here -. Perhaps if you've gained enough of an upper hand and luck in battle to grant you some time to look at the ground, you can see that there's specks of white paint that faded away with time; the surface still resembling that of a soccer field's to this day, not unlike the one in his backyard.

To reflect his mental state and emotions of worthlessness and futility prior to him crossing over the point of no return, well, here's where the fun and pain come in-

The halls of the labyrinth are...suffocating; as soon as you enter, you realize that the area is only wide enough for a single person to traverse through. It's so dark, too; only the oil lamps and unmaintained lanterns present provide any form of luminescence, and even then, you have to be careful; one small misstep, and it is you who will be up in flames.

You also get the sinking feeling that you are being watched through the cracks and holes of suffocating halls; a feeling exemplified by the sounds of rain and howling winds just outside. The oil lamps do nothing to alleviate the bone-biting cold around you- the warmth provided is minimal at best. Not too far away, peculiarly enough, you can hear what must sound like...a radio; the details of what is being said is unclear, but the language is actually understandable if you happen to know Arabic. Through static and compressed sounds, you can hear that the voice on the radio is...reciting a nasheed; one chanting about the light of honor, victory, and divine heroism in the face of adversity, with determination being a repeated theme peppered in. No matter which hallway you turn towards, you cannot seem to get any closer to the source of the sound.

As you make your way to the center of the barrier, in spite of the lack of windows present, you decide to be a little brave and take a peak through the torn cloth or any of the cracks on the wall; you find that not only are you not at all far away from the hallway you've already visited, but that you appear to be going down a spiral- but this can't be possible! It is like you've done nothing but repeating the same steps over and over, only for your determination and desires to bring you down...

The winds have gotten louder - clashing with the noise present in the halls -, and your legs feel so tired...

You cannot take it anymore. You finally deduce that, if you want to face off against the warlock right then and there, then you better take a nosedive; break through the halls and descend further and further until you reach the arena, and face off against a furious gladiator- angered and heartbroken by the prospect of you destroying these mementos. How could you?! Such an act is beyond heinous in his eyes! You are no honorable opponent like the rest of them- nay, he is here to strike you down, to restore and clear the champion's name...

To rub salt on his wound a little more, let's add in more references to the people who affected Hop's life- those who have sent him down a spiral, whether consciously or not.

At the end of some of these hallways, you can find shrines that are clearly meant for worship; moreso than the memorabilia that are already present. A large statue rests in the middle of it, surrounded by worn pictures depicting a silhouette of a man and damaged, worn-out books and scrolls. The scent of smoke is present, alongside ashes on the ground; the warlock or one of his familiars must have been near the shrine not too long ago.

Some parts of the halls, namely what items made of organic material like cloth, are clearly damaged- whether caused by burns, cuts, or, most strangely of all, moths. The bothersome nature of these little creatures not only represent Bede tearing apart at his self-worth, but also his reliance on Chairman Rose- such a depiction may symbolize his actions and words' effects on Hop's self-image and life, but it also acts as a subconscious, final "fuck you" to white-haired youth; at the end of the day, Bede is just an unwanted, insignificant insect who gravitates towards any source of light while causing great disaster to others, even at the detriment of his own life.

...but...isn't that what you have cursed yourself into, Hop? Having to prove yourself to someone who is so far away for all eternity? To mimic them? All for a part of their attention and approval- much less a sliver?

They have both locked themselves in a cycle of attempting to appease to someone in their lives at the detriment of their own health...

Upon his defeat, once the crowd cheers at his defeat, the walls will crumble, and the debris will crush and pierce the warlock - whether he was still alive or dead by then - as you finally get a look at the outside world... Rolling hills that span for miles greet your vision as the grey, rainy skies conceal the afternoon sunlight- but it still is brighter than the suffocating arena and its connected halls. Not too far away, you are able to spot a windmill, still going on for what seems like several vicious years, if its poor state was any sign. Ah, if not for the chaos around you, the flickering silhouettes of round sheep in the distance and the smell of grass and rain really makes it feel like you're right back home...back in Postwick...

To end all this on a high note, let's touch upon his witch's kiss/warlock's whisper/evil cutie mark. Thankfully, I got it as soon as I could; one of those old emblems that acted as tickets to a gladiator match depicting a simplified sheep's head! To add some freakiness, the sheep face is stripped to the bone on one half, and glaring right at the person looking at it on the other. A circle of hop flowers surround the disfigured head, and the emblem itself appears to be half-melting.

-Witch Card-

Sayf Al-Muharib. The Gladiator warlock, whose nature is admiration. The light of an old hero's glory - eternally out of his reach - had caused his sight to turn into searing, painful ichor; blinding him to all but his own failures and shortcomings. As penance for the sin of his existence and weakness, the warlock is in a constant state of breaking down, melting, and reforging himself whilst in preparation for his next battle in the hopes of searing away all the flaws in him - all that lead him to his incriminating mistakes - and achieve a perfect form. He is unable to recognize the being beneath his armor anymore, nor could he remember the vision he had prior to his entrancement.

The cries and cheers of his familiars herald another chance for the warlock to prove himself and absolve the legacy of his hero once and for all- but, no matter what, the crowd is never satisfied, and neither will he ever feel proud of himself for the victory. He will never be an inch closer to the light of legend he craves so badly. To emerge from the battlefield victorious, one must not lose sight of their promise in the midst of battle.

(His name is inspired by Sayf bin Omar/سيف بن عمر, a Muslim historian and compiler. It should also be of note that the reliability of Sayf's ahadeeth have been a point of controversy to this day. When translated, the warlock's full name means "The warrior's sword".)

(The fact that his first name literally means "sword" bears two meanings depending on the protagonist- if it's Gloria, then it reflects how he tags along with and respects her though he is seen as incomplete without her presence in the eyes of the rest; while if it's Victor, then it's the clash between their friendly rivalry and his growing respect towards him. Either way, it also symbolizes how the MC stole his spotlight and destiny, and how they broke him and his dream apart throughout their journey.)

(Also, Homura fits the criteria needed to defeat him, let's GOOOOOOO-)

-Familiars-

Batel (plural form: Abatil). The gladiator warlock's minion, whose duty is preservation. A scholar at heart, the warlock analyzes the actions of the hero of legend to learn from them for future endeavors. Prioritizing the opulence and safety of these treasures, these small followers of his are on constant lookout for anything that would posses a danger to these sacred masterpieces while archiving the feats of the champion for future re-readings.

Unfortunately, their master despises the reflection cast on the memorabilia; forever reminding him of what he will never become. He will hang his head down in their presence out of both respect and shame, lest the sight of the failure he had become shatter what was left of his original heart once more.

(Symbolizing Hop's knowledge of battling in general; jokes about type advantages aside, he was always analyzing Lee's battles and was eager to use his knowledge during battles. It's also one of the key reasons as to why he chose to become a professor in the end.)

(Yes, the warlock himself also does his job at chronicling the feats of Leon - even going as far as to imitate them to this day -, but not only are the Batels there to assist him (I mean, they are his familiars), but they also sort of symbolize how...exaggerated Leon's achievements can get, especially in the eyes of others- including Hop's.)

(Its name is a play on words in Arabic; "Batal/بطل" means "Hero", but "Batil/باطل" can either mean "of no good use" or "useless". Leon was the hero, his hero, his ideal- Hop, on the other hand, was just dead weight to him.)

(Another note to add is that Hop's uniform number is 189, which, when read in Japanese, can mean "Hiyaku"; leaping. While the warlock himself would be struggling to walk with these hooves of his and his mutilated form melting and meshing with the armor, I can also see that the Abatil's only way of moving around is through leaping, since they would probably have only one leg to stand on. Ah, I love the smell of symbolism in the morning.)

-

Al-Daja (plural form: Al-Dajij). The gladiator warlock's minion, whose duty is to uphold competition. Ever-so excited for the upcoming battle, the crowd will explode into applauds whenever a new victim enters the stadium and comes face-to-face with their master. Their never-ceasing cheers always demand for more, and, not wanting their wide, unblinking eyes to stare at all his faults and mistakes, the warlock complies.

The warlock will try and not show a sign of degradation to his opponent- he'll hold out until they sing songs of his glory and his story gets passed down from generation to generation. However, these minions will often times become so entranced with the relics and spectacle that they would forget the identity of their master altogether, and even start cheering for the new challenger once the warlock is thrown into a corner.

(Based on Hop's personal drive - to become as glorious and powerful as the unbeatable champion himself -, how the losses have been affecting him, and him not wanting what negative attention he garnered along the way to affect Leon directly. The audience can be quite the chatterboxes; all it takes is one small piece of gossip for everything to go out of control. Its name, ألضجة, means "The Noise".)

(They also symbolize how everyone else already act around him all thanks to his brother's legacy- looking down on him for every little mistake he makes, while each victory earns him another comparison to Leon. He doesn't want to disappoint them- not the crowds, not his friends, not his family, and not himself, so he carries on with his useless endeavor; constantly chasing after a dream that is so far from his reach. The fact that this familiar is prone to forgetting who they are serving exactly is indicative of Hop forgetting himself.)

-Inspirations-

In-canon:

Sacrificing aspects of himself just to come close to that aforementioned ideal; going as far as to remove his lifelong friend, Wooloo, from his team

Trophies and other memorabilia of his brother being found in their home- almost no mementos of Hop being found there

Corviknight, one of the 'mons he gigantamaxes upon the release of the DLCs (the other is his starter pokemon, which I will assume is Scorbunny)

The fact that he is evidently Arab/Muslim-coded, especially in the French translation of the games where his name is Nabil (fun fact, Raihan is also an already-Arab name)

The third episode of Pokemon: Twilight Wings

Dubwool being able to learn a fuck ton of self-destructive moves

The statue of the Hero of Galar in Wyndon (Motostoke in the anime)

Outside Influences:

The Sealed Vessel from Hollow Knight and their theme; actually, wanna bet that he is trapped in a similar manner as they were if we were to assume that his power is equal to Isabeau's? That he has been gathering power from the mass hysteria resulting from his influence over the stadiums?

How sheep, lambs, and goats are associated with sacrifice, slaughter, deceit, and rituals (to tie the aforementioned wooloo/dubwool and self-abandonment points mentioned earlier)

The golden calf

The fact that some gladiators were prisoners and had to fight and put on a spectacle in order to regain their freedom

nana825763's "My house walk-through"

That one segment from Valle Verde part 2 which starts at around the 3:58 mark

The Devil Within by Digital Daggers (not my dumb ass imagining an animatic in which Bede is this warlock's first victim)

Cause of my Death by Itoki Hana

Dolus Vel Pedica, Area Strigae, and Delusio Summa from the Madoka Magica PSP game

The concept of living armor, but with added body horror

-Closing Statements-

Phew! Well, thank GOD this didn't take as much time as Medic's warlock did! (unless if we count my sick days- then yeah, it took just as much) To say that this was a WILD ride would be the understatement of the century!

I wanted to nail the vibe the witches had before we, as the audience, learned the truth about their origins - that he must have been born out of competition and the impostor syndrome that comes with such high-stakes contests -, and the idea that he, Sayf, was vengeful not just towards the leagues and the people who had beaten Hop while he was down, but also towards himself. I am unsure of whether or not I've completely succeeded on that front, but, if you guys have better ideas and/or criticisms, please do let me know! I aim to improve my writing in general and my abilities to break down character motivations and symbolize their actions in more abstract manners.

Being Bede is suffering; his ass is getting haunted on one hand, and Leon is able to smell his fear from a mile away on the other. He's not fucking winning this, lads :'3

...With all that being said, there is one shred of information that I've been withholding until now- the final piece of the puzzle that, once we step back, paints a rather grim image of what would occur if we were to combine the worlds of Pokemon SWSH and PMMM...

Outside the league challenge, the story of SWSH tackles the eldritch origins of Dynamax/Gigantamax; that the very vessels that allowed the people of Galar to utilize it must come from the remains of the invading Pokemon, Eternatus. Its initial awakening from its 17,000 year slumber heralded the event known as the Darkest Day; in which it had absorbed so much of Galar's energy that it caused its form to change and a dark storm to envelope the region, causing the pokemon to dynamax/gigantamax and go berserk. With the emergence of said storm come what is now known as "Galar Particles"; other sources of energy that, after the defeat of this threat, were utilized by humans for generations to come; rebuilding Galar from the ground up to the region we know today.

Now, a theme that both medias apparently share here from this fact alone is "energy". In a sense, you could say that Eternatus itself acts very much like a living grief seed; absorbing "impurities" in order for its true form to "hatch" and release boundless amounts of concentrated energy that can be used in a useful manner later down the line.

So....what gives? Why is Eternatus such a key element to this concept if the focus of this post is Hop? What does that creature beyond out comprehension have to do with the one we currently have in our hands right now?

See, not only does Hop's karmic potential stem from his destiny to stop the second Darkest Day alongside the main character, but his brother was also tasked by Chairman Rose with capturing the beast and delivering it to him; this was planned out in order to solve Galar's energy crisis that was going to unfold in the next several years or so, and, though it was a hard decision, the Chairman believed that now was a better time than never. The future of Galar, in his eyes, relied on him...

Obviously, Rose's entire plan fell flat on its face, so it was up to us, our bestie, and a very gud boi an' gorl (Pokedex entries confirm Zacian is Zamazenta's older sister) to save an entire region's ass from a wicked, unfathomable threat once more, but what if things went a little differently in this timeline? Obviously, one of the heroes who was supposed to assist/had assisted Gloria fell into despair and became the next world-ending threat she's going to have to put down, but what if this wasn't the only deviation from the norm here?

After all, Rose wasn't the only one who had sought out the means to prevent and remedy a sort of entropy issue at any cost necessary...

[yamikailyn]

I've been working on Ablaze's continuation, and since I haven't updated my drafts in a while, I decided to give you Haywire's first chapter. Haywire is unedited and unfinished, so I don't want to upload it on Ao3 yet.

Haywire

Summary: Jean and Floch are together, for the best but also the worst. Navigating differences in their relationship isn't easy, especially for Jean, who struggles to find the right balance. But keeping his hormones in check is soon the least of Jean's worries when Commander Zoë announces their new plan—to visit Marley to find new allies.

Chapters: 1/?

Ships: Flojean, past jeanmarco, past jeanrei

“So, did you fuck last night?”

“Connie! I don’t think that’s anyone’s business!”

“Come on, they left together pretty early, Jean is in rut, Floch is just fresh out of his first heat and weirdly late, I mean, do I even need to ask?”

“Then don’t ask!” Armin cries out again, and Jean winces—the mess hall is loud enough already. If only he could be somewhere else. Anywhere else. “Why are you so invested in this anyway?!” Yes, why is he?

Connie leans his elbows on the table, averting his gaze. His lips twist. “It’s either that or talking about Marley, and I don’t wanna talk about Marley.”

Armin opens his mouth, looking ready to argue more, but steals Jean a nervous glance instead.

Great. At least one of them realises Jean’s trying his very best not to punch Connie’s stupid face and make him run laps around the courtyard. By the walls, that would be glorious. Not punching Connie, because that’s what any brain-dead alpha would do, and Jean prides himself to do better than acting on animalistic impulses. But it’s misty and rainy this morning, not a time to do any work outside. That would serve Connie right. Unfortunately, punishing Connie also means watching him to make sure he isn’t slacking off, and Jean would rather finish his breakfast and go hide in his office rather than being chilled to the bones. Though, if Connie keeps prying, Jean might end up behind bars for murder.

Deep breath. While Connie and Armin resume their argument, Jean rubs tired eyes and refocuses on the sad porridge filling his bowl. But even with the best will in the world, his body still lets him know that he got to sleep alone, to wake up alone, and that violet melissa or not, it is very, very against his nature to be alone in such time.

Some ruts are harder than others. This one is competing for a spot on the podium.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. Jean infused and drank some violet melissa flowers before going to sleep. But Floch’s scent still permeated everything in his room—clothes, sheets, mattress, and, damn it, it took only a few minutes before Jean started to bite a pillow, thrusting into his own hand and chasing a release more pathetic than satisfying. If the flowers helped, Jean doesn’t even want to think what would’ve happened without them. Or if he’d caved in and let Floch spend the night with him, his warm body pressed against Jean’s with just a thin, easy to rip layer of fabric between them.

His stomach heaves.

To Sasha’s greatest joy, Jean pushes his bowl towards her. The porridge is a far cry from last night’s feast anyway. Armin gives him a sympathetic look. What does he think? That it’ll alleviate Jean’s torment? Cute. He’s not hard—not yet. Maybe the violet melissa does work, after all. But every smell, sound, and movement grinds his senses.

The friction of his clothes on his overheated skin sends pins and needles along his limbs. Connie’s laugh rings in his ears like a gunshot. And the smell of a group of omega drifting to him reminds him that even if they aren’t in heat, their wet, hot flesh pulsating around his knot would feel good all the same.

He could power through it. Not his first rut. Not his last. Mornings and evenings are always the worst because his mind isn’t busy enough to ignore the intrusive thoughts and his body going haywire. But he doesn’t want to trial his self-control today. And one glance across the mess hall to Hange tells him they already know he’s forfeiting and yearns for the quietness of his office, where no one will challenge his restraint. Even if there’s also an amused sparkle in their eyes telling Jean they can’t wait to see how things are going to turn out.

Jean finishes his tea in one gulp and gets up. But as he does, his nostrils tickle. Notes of lavender and irritation hit him before he even turns around and meets Floch’s pale face.

Bed hair and dark circles. Creased uniform smelling like slicky desires and urges. Did he sleep badly? Did his heat resume? Did he even change clothes, or does he still wear yesterday’s? Stupid question. Of course Floch still wears yesterday’s clothes.

Jean takes a step forward, aching with the need to reach, touch, kiss and steal his partner away. His omega. But piercing golden eyes bore into his, and he stills, a shiver running down his tensed spine.

People. Public. Floch doesn’t want that. Intimacy isn’t something he’s comfortable with yet, love another thing he doesn’t know if he’s still capable of, whatever that means. Jean needs to back off. Back off. Right now!

So he backs off, peeling his eyes away.

Eren watches them from his seat with that bored, distant expression that never fails to make Jean’s knuckles tickle. Fuck him. What does a beta like him know about what they go through? Has he ever fucked anyone? Armin? Mikasa? No, not Mikasa, for fuck’s sake! Armin, just Armin. Yes. Better. Though Armin is too cute and smart for Eren. Damn it! Jean balls his fists, the wildfire of his jealousy bursting.

It’s not that he cares that much about Armin, it’s just that Eren shouldn’t have all the nice things.

“Jean.” Floch sighs, and Jean swears he moved closer, but he won’t turn his head to check. Because if he does …

He steps to the side, glaring at Eren, who just chews on his food as if he couldn’t care less. Is he trying to provoke him? And why did Armin and Mikasa join in the staring? What do they want? Are they siding with him? Oh, of course they are!

Jean grits his teeth. Exhales through his nose. Not the 104th training years anymore. Commanding officer, now. Can’t pick a fight with Eren in the middle of the mess hall like he used to. Can’t see if he’s as punchable as before.

A hand brushes Jean’s arm. Little sparks of pleasure heat up his nerves and drowns the rage into syrup. He swallows. Hard. So. Hard. Fuck!

“Floch … I’ll … I’ll see you later.” Or in a couple of days, when the rut eases off, and he isn’t picturing himself trailing his tongue along the curve of the omega’s neck, hands kneading his firm ass. He’d nuzzle the area over Floch’s scent glands. No bite, no claiming, of course. Just gentle licking and nibbling. Just a taste before he … before he …

Crap.

Pulling down on his jacket, Jean rushes out the mess hall. Can’t think of any other way to fight off the hormonal storm brewing in him. Or to hide his embarrassing boner before someone—Connie, it will be Connie—points at it.

He walks to his office in a daze, barely noticing the thin rain on his face as he crosses the courtyard, or the warmer air inside the administrative building once he enters it. His head is spinning by the time he closes the door and leans back against it.

The office is still a new thing Jean isn’t quite used to yet, but the lack of omega scent hanging in the air—in particular the lack of Floch’s oh-so-alluring scent—helps him to contain the fire. But not to extinguish it.

Wet hair sticks to his forehead. He should dry. Instead, Jean trails a hand down his stomach and between the lapel of his jacket to grab himself through his uniform pants. He groans. “Fuck …!”

The back of his head hits the door, but only jolts of pleasure shoot through his groin. He rubs his palm up and down along his trapped cock. It leaks. Pitifully.

It’s nowhere the place, nor the time, but does it stop him from unclasping his belt buckle, opening his pants and lowering his boxer briefs? No, even if the air licking his wet tip tears a hiss from him. But it could be worse. It could be the damp, cold fabric of his underwear sticking to his skin for the rest of the day.

Jean spits into his hand and wraps it around his length. It’s not his own touch he craves, but it’ll do. Eyes closed, he can pretend for a second Floch is leaning against him, whispering intoxicating words into his ear. ‘Look at you, all hard and dripping for me. Do you like my hand that much?’ Yes, yes, he does. Fuck! He does!

If only Floch’s heat and Jean’s rut could’ve been perfectly in sync. He wants to return back in time, before that insane meeting in Mitras and the disappointing night he spent in his room, alone. It could’ve just been them, in bed, exploring each other’s bodies and achieving new heights of pleasure. It doesn’t matter that they’ve only been intimate for a few days, they’ve known each other for years. Comrades in arms. Friends. More than friends. How did they even live this whole time without even a kiss, an embrace.

Shit, Levi was right, Jean’s been in love for quite a time, and Floch? Well, whatever this is, Floch cares about him. They just needed a pinch to be together. If it hadn’t been Floch’s heat, it’d have been something else.

A bit of pressure on his swollen, oversensitive knot, and it’s enough to make him whimper and work his hips into, well, just his fist. But it could be different. It could be Floch surrendering to the pheromones and bending over for him. He’d let Jean slide up and down between the cleft of his ass and tease his puckered, slicked entrance. Yes. He’d beg for Jean’s cock, his knot, his mark—fuck!

The tightening of his hot flesh is the only warning he gets. Jean bites down on his lip to muffle another groan. Toes curling into boots, he rides waves of sheer ecstasy, only slumping back against the door once he’s spent. His chest heaves as he catches his breath, mouth spreading into a blissful grin.

But the cum rapidly cooling on his knuckles drags him back into the harsh reality. He’s not in bed, his dick deep buried into Floch’s wet warmth. And the mess he made on the floor is more than beyond disgusting.

*~*

The cold air drifting from the open window is a caress Jean is aware of but not bothered by. It’s better than the alternative—sitting in the smell of his shame while he’s trying to tackle a report on the new recruits assigned to his squads.

Reports. Marco would’ve loved that. Always writing down his observations, even if it was just scribbles on a scrap of paper. When Jean offered him a notebook for his last birthday, Marco’s whole face lit up. Never thought Jean noticed his interest. How could he not?

But Marco’s dead, and Jean lost more than his best friend that day—Marco would’ve been a better commanding officer than Jean could ever dream to be. And a better alpha. Not the kind to wank off at the thought of submitting and knotting an otherwise unwilling partner. Floch made his boundaries clear, and Jean promised he’d respect them. But can he?

Piece of shit.

That’s all Jean is, a piece of shit, getting high and hot at the fantasy of defiling Floch. But that sad realisation won’t get any of his work done.

Jean stares at the words he wrote until they blur and his eyes sting. ‘The recruits from the 108th Training Division are …’ The recruits are what? Future dead meat, because once Marley attacks, most of them will die, no matter how harshly they are trained? No. He can’t write that down even if it’s the truth.

What about their political views? It didn’t escape to his attention some are radicalised already, especially the youngest. Floch is particularly good at rallying them up. But Jean can’t report that either. Their feelings are only natural. They grew up in a world scared of the colossal titan breaking through Wall Rosa, and now they have to live with the fear of other humans plotting their end. They shouldn’t be punished because no one can give them hope.

‘The recruits from the 108th Training Corps are still lacking in some areas. Despite three years of intense training, they struggle with 1) safely handling thunder spears 2) anti-titan ODM gear maneuvering. I recommend’

Jean stops writing and raises his head, nostrils flaring. Levi’s scent reaches him before the Captain even knocks at the door.

Don’t move. Don’t say anything.

No. That’s stupid. Levi has to know Jean’s here. Where else would he be? Obviously, he’s not supervising any training. He’s not working in the quietness of the storage rooms, either. Or tending to the horses. The office is the only other place. Levi handled some of his administrative tasks during the past few days, but he must know how behind Jean is. Besides, it’s the perfect shelter for an alpha in rut who doesn’t want any company.

Except it isn’t anymore.

Jean clears his throat, but Levi lets himself in before he’s invited to. Typical.

Sharp steel eyes quickly survey the office and zero in on the open window. “Damn, brat, either you want to catch a cold or you’re trying to hide you shat your pants when you stormed out that mess hall.” Of course Jean knows better than looking guilty. And, of course, he still can’t help a glance at that specific spot on the floor. He scrubbed it until he couldn’t feel his fingers, and yet, when he returns his attention to Levi, the captain glowers harder.

“Really?”

Face burning, Jean ducks his head. So much for not looking guilty. “It’s not what you—”

“No, it’s exactly what I think it is. But you look ashamed enough already.” Levi strides across the office and posts himself next to the window. Crossing his arms, he looks outside. “Come here. There’s something I want to show you.”

Jean doesn’t move right away. But he can’t just ignore Levi’s order, so he pushes his chair back and gets up from behind his desk. Wanting to keep a safe distance, he places himself on the other side of the window and forces his attention on the courtyard. A few recruits are doing laps around it, even if the rain is heavier now. The fat droplets crashing on the sill sprays Jean’s hand with cold mist. Autumn is starting to show its true colors. And Levi smells like soap, tea, and unshakable resolve.

Don’t breathe in. But of course Jean does, and his belly tightens with something that isn’t quite arousal but isn’t quite platonic either. Comfort? Safety? Is it because Levi is bonded to someone else, even if that person is gone? Or is it because nothing seems to shake him, not even the presence of an alpha in rut who’s a head taller than him? Not that Jean could even dream of submitting the captain. He wouldn’t even try to.

“This is your doing.”

“What?” Jean detaches his eyes from Levi—when did he even start staring?—and glance down at the courtyard again.

“Pack of little beta and alpha shitheads from the Garrison. 103th Training Corps. Trained together, served together. They teased the fuck out of Floch because you blew him off this morning and wasn’t even there for lunch. So, guess what happened next?”

Jean shakes his head. “I didn’t blow him off. I just—”

“That wasn’t my question, now, was it?” Levi narrows his eyes at him, and whatever warmth Jean felt congeals into the ice of the captain’s glare.

“Floch picked a fight.” Levi nods, and Jean’s chest caves in. Because, if Floch isn’t running laps too, where is he? The infirmary? Did they gang up on him? Is his omega wounded?

Jean spins around, a growl in his throat and eyes set on the door. But a firm hand grabs his elbow before he can go raise hell on the recruits.

“Glad to see you actually care, but I’m not done yet. Why are you avoiding Floch? Surely you didn’t notice his oh-so-charming personality just now?”

Does Levi really have to ask? Did he forget during the night? Jean’s fingers twitch. “I’m in rut.”

“A fact I’m disgustingly aware of.” Levi releases his grip and steps away from the window. Jean drills holes into the back of the captain’s neck. “Usually, when an alpha is in rut, they seek the omega they claimed.”

Jean’s face burns. “I didn’t claim him!”

Levi shrugs and sits down on Jean’s chair, crossing his legs. His attention turns to the report for a second, then flicks back to Jean. “Forget about marking—it can happen even between sworn enemies. Feelings matter more because they can’t be forced on anyone. I saw the way you both behave. To me, you claimed each other. You should be skipping duty to fool around, and I should be chewing you out for that. But this morning?” Levi clicks his tongue. “That was a pitiful show. And it gave those recruits the impression that you not only used Floch during his heat, but that he’s also not ‘good enough’ to satisfy you during your rut.”

“That’s not—” Jean doesn’t finish his sentence and rubs a palm over his face. Urgh. Why is everything so complicated? He wants to kick or punch something or someone, but he can’t. So he just strides left and right, fists clenched by his side and anger trapped without a single crack to escape through. “Fuck!”

This time, Levi doesn’t say anything. He just grabs a sheet of blank paper and the fountain pen to scribble down what looks like a list. His calmness doesn’t ease Jean’s bubbling rage, but he eventually settles on the opposite seat, elbows propped on his thighs and chin resting on his clasped hands. However, it doesn’t take long before he starts bouncing his leg.

Levi stops writing, folds the piece of paper and meets his eyes. “You’re scared of hurting him, aren’t you?”

Jean freezes. Then drops his gaze. “I crave things he can’t give me.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t.” Jean presses his lips together, waiting. But only silence answers back. Levi expects him to elaborate, doesn’t he? Jean shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck. His whole body cringes at his vulnerability. He shouldn’t be trapped in his own office, interrogated by an omega. No. He should be tearing through Levi, even if it’s just with words. But it’s also not who Jean is. So, he forces himself to still, rests his hands flat on his thighs and takes a deep breath. “We talked about it. I can be very … well, lustful and promiscuous, I guess. He’s not. And I’m fine with that. But. The rut … I’m scared of crossing boundaries.” Jean shivers. His heart sinks, and his fingers tingle. The same fingers he used to grab Floch’s hips before they went to sleep. Did Jean bruise him? “I … I did that yesterday and—”

“Did you like crossing those boundaries?”

Jean jerks his head back up. “What?! No! I felt awful! I still feel awful! But part of me, my instinct, my body, really wants to. When I’m with him … Even when I’m not with him … It’s all I can think of! And it’s wrong!”

Levi arches a brow. “What’s your plan, then? Stop yourself from thinking bad thoughts and never see Floch again?”

“Maybe it’s what I should do. For him.” Even if Jean’s heart breaks at the notion.

Levi stands up, hitting his palm with the folded piece of paper. He moves to close the window and stays in front of it, as if he needs time to ponder. The silence between them drags long enough for Jean to stirs on his chair with relentless energy. So, when Levi finally speaks, he snaps to attention even faster.

“Erwin wasn’t interested in sex. You could barely tell when he was in rut. My heat didn’t affect him at all. Was this another biological oddity or just his personality, I still don’t know. But we made it work.” Levi doesn’t add anything for a little while, and Jean doesn’t dare pry. This confession is probably all Levi is willing to say about his relationship with the late commander. And after what happened yesterday during the meeting, Jean should be glad he’s willing to say anything at all. “You’re scared of losing control and obeying your most primal instincts because of the rut, but here you are, having a conversation with me, an omega.”

‘Omega.’ The word feels so wrong in Levi’s mouth. Levi is so much more than an omega. Without him, they’d already be dead. “You’re my captain,” Jean corrects. “Humanity’s strongest.”

Levi turns around, a small, mocking smile tugging at the corner of his lip. “The son of a whore who would be put in better use as one. A thug picked up from the Underground’s filthy streets by the Survey Corp. An omega slut that hasn’t been properly tamed by his alpha. Or who needs a stronger, better one to break him into a more pliable plaything.”

Jean gapes. “Capt—”

“I heard it all from the nobles and the top brass, and often swore to myself I’d slice their throats. Thoughts are just thoughts. You need to trust yourself more.” Levi crosses the distance separating him from Jean and tucks the piece of paper into his breast pocket. “I sent Floch to clean the stables before he maimed a recruit. Hopefully, the stench of horse shit will help you keep your mind clear. And if not, pretty sure the little prick can knee you in the balls.”

Jean snorts. It’d hurt like a bitch.

Anger and worry melt down into a different feeling. It’s not quite relief, but it’s warm and comforting enough for Jean to slump down on the chair, legs extending in front of him. Like the good kind of exhaustion that comes after a harsh but fruitful day.

Maybe Levi’s right. Floch isn’t defenseless. He proves that again and again. And if Jean doesn’t trust himself much right now, perhaps he should trust Floch.

He pats his breast pocket and fishes the piece of folded paper. “What’s that?”

“The proper dosage and brewing technique for violet melissa.” Jean’s brow shots up. How does Levi—“Floch told me.” Oh.

Jean puts the paper back in his pocket. He licks his lips, nervousness growing in the pit of his stomach. “Are you going to tell the Commander?”

Levi curls his lips over his teeth, recoiling at the whole idea as it seems. “That little weasel, stealing the Military Police? Hange would be far too entertained! I don’t need that.” Even after years, Jean still can’t tell if Levi likes Hange. What are they to him? A superior? A comrade? A friend? More than a friend? It’s not like he can ask. Levi would tell him to mind his business.

Boots click on the floor. Levi moves to the door, and if Jean doesn’t turn his head to watch him, he can’t resist breathing in his scent one last time. Usually, the captain is more guarded, discreet. Maybe it’s how he shows his trust in Jean. Or, most likely, the peak of Jean’s rut still exacerbates his sense of smell.

“Take the day off. You’re useless anyway.”

Jean nods, then turns around on his chair to thank Levi. But the door closes.

*~*

Hay. Straw. Sweat. Shit.

The musky stench greeting Jean weighs on his tongue. Nose wrinkling, he walks further into the horse stable. Dust particles dance in the lights of the shining stone lamps. Low nickers and the stomping of hooves echo in his ears. But Floch is nowhere to be seen, which allows the courage Jean mustered up to wither even more.

He almost jolts out of his skin when Levi’s black mare sticks her head out of her stall, sniffing his hair and trying to chew on it. Despite the growing churning in his stomach, or perhaps because of it, Jean strokes the velvety coat of her muzzle up and down. But the mare’s nostrils flare, and she pulls back with a loud snort, most likely because he has no apple or carrot to give her. Bitch.

A few moments later, Jean finally finds Eren’s horse tied up outside a stall and, inside, Floch, napping on the clean bedding of straws he spread on the floor.

He looks so peaceful, with his eyes closed, his mess of bed hair, and his hand resting on his stomach, Jean doesn’t dare to step in right away. Instead, he leans against the door frame to watch him, sighing with relief. No bruises despite the brawl. Or no bruise anywhere visible yet.

Breathing in Floch’s alluring scent, Jean moves closer like a moth drawn by the flames. He kneels in the straw and reaches out for his partner. His companion. His ome—

“I haven’t forgiven you.” Jean freezes, his hand only a few centimeters away from Floch’s cheek. The omega doesn’t crack his eyes open, but his lips purse into one of his sullen pouts. “You’ve been an asshole.”

Jean blinks, then withdraws his hand and sits back on his heels. Floch’s irritation curls around them like a snake ready to strike. It’d be so much easier to lash out, pin Floch to the floor, show him who’s in charge, but … Jean shakes his head, swallowing the angry impulse down, even if it’s like gravel scraping against his throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Well, you did,” Floch hisses. “And a lot of people seem to think it’s so fucking funny. ‘Oh, look at that, the little male omega put back into his rightful place—a slut, just good to be knotted. Jean will find a good omega woman to bear his kids soon enough.’”

Jean flinches. Is it really how people see him? “You know I wouldn’t.”

“Do I?” Floch rolls to his side, offering his back.

Jean grabs a fistful of straw with a trembling hand. It’s rough against his palm, and cracks when he tightens his grip. Or perhaps he’s just imagining the noise, because he wants to break the recruits’ necks so damn hard. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what?” Floch scoffs with a small shrug.

Jean sucks in a breath, his heart beating fast. “From me. I was afraid of losing control.”

Floch turns around again and sits up, narrowed golden eyes fixed on Jean. Is he angry? Suspicious? Pondering? Hard to tell. But when he speaks again, his eyes are watery. “So what now? Do you plan to avoid me whenever you’re in rut? Did you try the melissa, at least, or did I steal it for nothing? Because I stole it for you, not for me!”

“I know! And I did! I drank it!” Jean shouts back, taken aback by Floch’s accusation and whiny tone. But the way the omega blinks at him, equally in shock, makes him lower his voice. “It’s just that it didn’t seem to do a lot for me.” Jean touches his breast pocket, feeling the edge of the folded piece of paper tuck in it. “Maybe because I didn’t know how to prepare it correctly.”

“Oh …” Gaze shifting away, Floch bends his legs and wraps his arms around them. He rests his chin on his knees, letting out a strained sigh. “What about now? How do you feel?”

“I’m … alright. More clear-headed. But maybe it’s because it smells like horse shit.”

Floch rolls his eyes. “You sound just like the captain.”

“Because I’m quoting him.”

“So, he visited you too …”

Floch doesn’t add anything else, and for a while, Jean doesn’t know what to say either. Doesn’t know if he should try to reach out again, now that Floch’s hostility has fizzled out. He opens his hand, releasing the straw, and rubs clammy palms over his thighs. Why does everything have to be so complicated?

“Look, after what I did yesterday … I was worried it’d happen again. I don’t want to cross your boundaries.”

Floch shakes his head, sighing again. “Yesterday was … overwhelming. My heat, that stupid meeting, your rut starting … But you did nothing wrong. I asked you to stop and you did. You gave me space, time. I … I still regret that I couldn’t … that I was so distant when you needed me …” Floch’s voice trails off, and his expression darkens.

Even if Jean stays riveted to the spot, he aches with the need to pull Floch into a tight embrace and to pepper him with kisses.

But if he starts, he won’t stop.

“This morning, I was really looking forward to seeing you, you know?” Floch continues in a whisper, as if he’s afraid of being overheard. “Because the night was shitty without you.” His cheeks turn red, and he hides his face between his arms. Being vulnerable is still not something he’s comfortable with. “I wanted to hold you and wake up next to you,” he croaks.

Jean crawls closer, his arms almost locking around Floch’s curled up body. But he picks the straw out of his hair instead. So close, he can smell Floch’s scent more vividly. It ranks sadness, which helps to qualm his arousal. But it sweetens with bubbles of joy too, and Floch eventually raises his head again. He’s still red-faced, but a small, almost mischievous smile plays on his lips.

“I want to spend the night with you.”

“Floch—” A finger presses again Jean’s lips.

“Don’t treat me like I don’t know what I’m doing. I trust you. I also trust my own strength. So, can you trust me?”

Jean exhales. “Yes. I trust you.”

“Unlike you, I actually have a plan.” Jean quirks a brow, but Floch doesn’t elaborate. He cradles Jean’s face instead, and this simple touch is enough for Jean’s eyes to flutter shut.

Jean moves closer, right into Floch’s comforting heat, and buries his head in the crook between Floch’s neck. Of course his cock stirs. The scent glands are just a few kisses away. But Jean is nowhere as aroused as he would’ve been this morning if they had hugged in the middle of the mess hall. If anything, he’s melting, all tension and stress leaving his body. Incredible what talking can do to alleviate one’s anxiety.

“Stupid alpha,” Floch mutters, but it sounds more affectionate than insulting. He tangles a hand into Jean’s hair and pets his head. It’s nice. Soothing. Jean wraps his arms around Floch and slots himself between his thighs. He nuzzles Floch’s neck until he finds his pulse. It’s when they lose their balance, but the straw mattress is here to collect them, so Floch barely huffs in protest.

It’s everything Jean needs. Floch’s presence, his warmth and scent surrounding him until Jean gets drunk on it and his brain clouds. It’d be even better without their clothes on, skin against skin, both bodies intimately entwine, but he shouldn’t be greedy. Even if he can’t stop his hips from grinding up and down against Floch’s thigh.

Too much pressure down there. His cock throbs, hot blood rushing into his inflating knot. Is it Floch’s hand on his ass, pulling him even closer? Inviting him to hump him? Does Floch finally want to know how an alpha’s cock feels? Jean tries to suck and pinch the curve of the omega’s neck. But the collar of Floch’s jacket is in the way, and the buttons of his shirt are so, so complicated to undo.

“Easy! My clothes stay on.” Floch warns, the hand in Jean’s hair tightening its grip.

“But I love you,” Jean whines. And, shit, why does Floch not let him prove it? He’d make him feel so good, so full, so—

Floch pulls on Jean’s hair, forcing him to raise his head. Jean growls and bares his teeth, desire turning into aggression, until he meets narrowed golden eyes.

Alphas don’t submit to omegas. This is the natural law. But the glare is like a slap in the face.

Jean withdraws his hands, apologies burning the tip of his tongue. Floch, however, seems to have a different idea. Expression softening, he pulls Jean closer again. Their lips brush. And Floch kisses him first.

Jean’s eyes flutter shut, and even if it’s sloppy and hesitant, he slumps against Floch’s warmth, kissing him back until they are both breathless.

“See?” Floch pants, his hands cradling Jean’s face again. “You listen to me. I’m more than my instinct, and so are you.”

“Yeah …”

“So …” Floch licks his lips and looks away, a bit red in the face. “Do you wanna get off?”

“Yeah! No! Wait? Are … are you even hard?” Jean blurts out.

Floch glances back at him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and rubs his thigh against Jean’s crotch. “No. But you are. So flattering to know I have this effect on you.”

“Like, it’s new,” Jean breathes out, his face burning hot.

“You were smoother during my heat. Where did all your experience go? Southward to meet your other brain?”

“Shut up,” Jean snaps before sealing their mouths together again. He repositions himself, grinding down. It’s nowhere as good as if they were humping each other naked, but the friction still tears a guttural groan from his throat. His tongue slides over Floch’s. His hips rock back and forth, chasing the pleasure he’s been fantasizing so much about. Floch grabs his shoulder with one hand, fingers digging into his jacket, while the other reaches down to knead his ass.

Jean freezes at first, rut-fuelled instinct rebelling with all its might. But the anger flickers away, and he licks Floch’s bottom lip. “You could fuck me. I’d let you.” It might not be what an alpha primarily needs, but it’ll scratch the itch regardless, Jean knows it. He just has to wrestle his instinct, and then—

But Floch pulls a face. “Disgusting. Not touching your asshole.” His harsh words don’t stop him from grabbing the back of Jean’s neck. They exchange another heated kiss, and Floch hooks a leg around Jean’s waist. Floch’s scent, sweet and soothing like rarely, wraps them into a soft cocoon.

Is his companion getting excited or is he just indulging him? Jean can’t quite tell. Doesn’t wanna know either. Hell, indulging him is not bad anyway, Jean can work with that.

The bucking of his hips grow more desperate and urgent by the second. He abandons Floch’s lips to bite down on his collar, the rough fabric brushing his tongue. A poor diversion, but it still quenches the urge to claim and mark and make sure Floch belongs to him forever. As long as Floch is covered with Jean’s scent and Jean with his, it’ll be proof that they own each other, right?

Fuck, he’s so close, so close, so—“Are you serious now? In my horse’s stall?!”

*~*

Nothing can kill a boner faster than Eren Jaeger. Well, an attack from Marley would too, but the annoying prick’s indignant yell is still high on the list.

Growling his frustration, Jean pushes himself up and turns to the entrance. Eren glares, of course. And Jean stomps forward, eager to punch Eren’s lights out. But Floch firmly grabs Jean’s arm before he can.

Maybe it’s for the best. The beta has always been strong. Probably another nice gift from his titan shifter’s blood. It’s not like Jean can win against someone who heals fast and never lacks stamina.

But more than that, Jean would regret the violence once he cools down, because it’d be the rut acting for him.

Jean breathes in and out, and relaxes fists he didn’t realise he clenched. “Sorry about that.” Apologizing stings his tongue. Still, it’s the right thing to do, isn’t it?

At least Eren’s gaze softens—a rare sight these days. Rubbing the back of his neck, he glances away and clears his throat. “Well, it’s just that I didn’t expect to stumble on you two. Could you do this in a room?” Eren gives Floch a quick glance. “And also, why are you even here? I was supposed to clean the stalls.”

“The Captain made me,” Floch dryly says, his hand still locked around Jean’s bicep. Why? It’s not like Jean still wants to pick a fight.

But here it is again, Eren’s annoyed look. “He did what? But you’re not even good at cleaning!”

If it weren’t for Floch, Jean would lunge forward and shove Eren to the ground. “Hey, shut up! He’s amazing!” Especially when he washes and grooms Jean in a bath. Yes. Right. They should do that. Now. Or take a shower, even if the water is cold. Anywhere where they can be naked and exploring each other. They still have that lavender soap. They don’t need more to rinse the awful stench of horses off their skin. Then Jean will carry Floch to—

“Can you not be horny for thirty seconds?” Eren curls his lips, his body tensing as if he’s about to throw a punch. Jean readies himself too, even if his mind still clings to his sensual daydream. Why does Eren always have to ruin everything?

Floch squeezes Jean’s arm, forcing back his attention to him. But the omega’s eyes are fixed on Eren. “If you’re so eager to clean the stalls, be my guest. I’ve done enough.”

Eren’s eyebrows shoot up. “But you said Captain Levi tasked you with—”

“Do I look like I care?” Floch shrugs, an insolent smile flicking on his face.

“Floch,” Jean warns, but Eren is louder than him. For once.

“You’d disobey the Captain’s orders?!”

Floch rolls his eyes. “Oh, wow, truly an unexpected event, me being reluctant to carry a superior’s order. I’m not on a quest to get his approval, and I thought you were aware of that …”

Instead of arguing more, Eren shuts his mouth right away, which is one of the least Eren-thing he ever did, especially with Floch.

Huh.

Jean looks between the two of them. Did he miss something? They always quarrel, although … Jean frowns. When did that happen for the last time? During the festival in Trost to celebrate the opening of their first railroad almost two months ago? Not even. Floch had been a bitch about being tasked with watching Yelena and her volunteers, but Eren didn’t fight him on that. However, he did several times before that when Floch would accompany Hange and Levi to the railroad building site. Hard to blame Eren. Floch liked to loudly remind them their efforts were fruitless and they’d be better off coercing the volunteers into giving them modern artillery schematics. Not that Floch was wrong either …

The air surrounding them thickens with the mix of their scents. It’s not quite hostile but the tension still tastes sour on Jean’s tongue and urges him to move between Floch and Eren, puffing his chest out. Even if he’s not sure which one he should protect from the other …

“Eren, you’ll follow your initial orders. I’m taking responsibility for him, so don’t worry.”

“Oh, I know. You always do.” Eren steps aside to let them pass and crosses his arm, his gaze turning serious.

This unshakable, stoic front he has been putting up a lot lately is nerve-racking. Jean can’t squash the feeling that he’s still missing some context, but he also doesn’t want to linger to find out what’s going on in Eren’s brain. Most likely, he’s thinking the same thing as everyone else—their impending doom. And his own death, that’ll happen sooner than Jean wants to, even if they rarely see eye to eye. However, it’s a conversation he’s in no state to have now, and besides, Eren made his point clear before—he won’t burden any of his friends with his power.

Eren wants them to live long lives. But can they really? The notion feels ridiculous, even as Jean interlocks his fingers with Floch’s.

[bloody-wonder]

making progress on old series

let it not be said that i can only start new series🧐

new releases:

empire of the damned by jay kristoff (book two in: empire of the vampire). i might have mentioned this one once or twice already so let's keep it brief. i loved it! even more than book one, i think. love liathe joining the main cast, love jean françois' everything, love how everyone got queerer, love the reveals at the end. very excited for the last book in this series, altho i'm a bit disappointed that it's now three books instead of five - since there are five vampire houses i wanted them to keep taking on a house in each book, with blood chastain being the final boss. very rude of kristoff to betray my vision.

the sunshine court by nora sakavic (book four in: all for the game). i don't think this spin off continuation was necessary and i didn't particularly enjoy it but i'm glad jean stans now have their own sacred text. my biggest fear was that nora would retcon something about the og trilogy and that didn't happen so i can just keep living in peace while mostly ignoring tsc fan content. more thoughts on why i didn't vibe with tsc in these posts.

mislaid in parts half-known by seanan mcguire (book nine in: wayward children). so this series consists of books focused on individual wayward children as well as of ensemble books which are usually weaker and this particular novella unfortunately belongs to the latter category. i still liked it fine and it was a quick read but tbh i'm ready for this series to wrap up so i hope goodreads isn't lying about the next book being the final installment.

fence vol. 6: redemption by cs pacat & johanna the mad. i rated it five stars but ngl i have no memory of what happened in this volume altho i read it in february😅 i like this series overall but i feel like the first few volumes were more exciting. weirdly now that the slow burn is finally starting to pay off i suddenly lose interest😕

heartstopper: volume five by alice oseman. i'm not a big fan of heartstopper in general, i think it's overhyped, but i did like this volume more than the previous ones. maybe i'm biased bc it features tori coming out as ace which prompted me to pick up solitaire which i loved and so it retroactively cast a more favorable light on the graphic novel. looking forward to reading the last volume bc i like finishing things and then i might as well read the nick and charlie novellas - at which point i will have become a person who doesn't like oseman's books all that much and yet has somehow read all but one of them🫤

mammoths at the gates and the brides of high hill by nghi vo (books four and five in: the singing hills cycle). i have only really liked the second singing hills novella so at this point it would be smart to admit that this series is simply not for me and stop reading it but. these books are so short and perfect for when you want to get through something quickly even if you know you're not likely to enjoy it. and if indeed eight stories are planned then it means i have now read more than half so i might as well complete the series🤷‍♀️ *gets shot by sunk cost fallacy police*

series i completed:

regency faerie tales by olivia atwater (read books two and three: ten thousand stitches and longshadow). love love LOVE these books!! i read half a soul last october and ten thousand stitches this january - both times when i was sick in bed and i couldn't have wished for better books to help me recover from a cold. the first one is pride & prejudice meets jonathan strange & mr norrell, the second one is a cinderella retelling, both have lovely romances and can be read as standalones. i think half a soul is fairly popular (and constantly compared to the book that shall not be named😒) but ten thousand stitches is very underappreciated. i for one think it's at least as good, if not better, than half a soul - apparently people just can't appreciate a love interest who isn't angsty and brooding😒 longshadow is a companion novel too but imo it features too many characters and concepts from the previous books so it should definitely be read last. i didn't like it as much bc i think it relies too much on the stuff we already know and love instead of giving its protagonists enough time to shine but it is queer which made me realize we don't have nearly enough queer fae books. what a disgrace🧐

noumena by lindsay ellis (read book three: apostles of mercy). so this was unfortunately mind-bogglingly boring. this type of sci fi is usually not my cup of tea and so i stay away from it but i decided to give this series a try bc it was written by lindsay ellis. the first book was entertaining enough but both sequels bored me to tears. it seems i was under a misconception that the story was gonna be about a sad girl trying to navigate a third thing type of relationship with a freaky alien but it was instead about her navigating instalovey relationships with random humans and the alien was also there sometimes. big disappointment👎

series i'm slowly working my way through:

the memoirs of lady trent by marie brennan (read books two, three and four: the tropic of serpents, the voyage of the basilisk and in the labyrinth of drakes). i read book one last december and liked it just enough to continue the series but every next book after that turned out to be amazing. follow lady trent, a 19th century dragon naturalist and adventurer, legendary as she is scandalous, as she travels through fantasy africa, oceania and arabia in search of dragons living and extinct, starts various political upheavals, makes breathtaking discoveries and finds love - a life journey she recounts as an old woman in a delightfully snarky narrative voice.

book two is my favorite so far bc it found a perfect balance of fast-paced adventurous plot on the one hand and character and relationship development on the other. i'm a bit sad that natalie left the main cast after this book - one of the only two criticisms i have of this series is that the titular lady trent remains the only important woman character. i think it wouldn't be too far-fetched to have one more woman on the team and natalie was a perfect protegée who, might i add, is also canonically ace. hate to see her leave😒

book three introduces a love interest who i at first found kinda bland but he grew on me in book four. my favorite relationship in the series however remains the one between lady trent and her trusted colleague tom wilker with whom they used to butt heads when they first met but who is now her dearest friend and longtime companion on her journeys. there are many books about romance and friendship but not so many about the utter satisfaction of having a coworker you can absolutely rely on. my prediction/wish for the last book is for wilker to turn out to be gay and find love too🤞

the other criticism i have has to do with the worldbuilding and i'll elaborate on it when i complete the series later this year.

the witcher by andrzej sapkowski (read books two and three: the time of contempt and baptism of fire). i'm enjoying this series much more than i thought i would. the key to success here is to leave behind all expectations you have from reading western epic fantasy or indeed from the witcher adaptations. this saga started as short stories and sapkowski remains a short story author first and foremost which might irritate a reader expecting a novel with a neat three act structure but which i personally found fascinating. the opening chapter of book two told from the pov of a messenger who encounters all major characters on the road, gets a death prophecy from a girl he doesn't know to be ciri and indeed dies as the chapter ends - i think that was a very creative way to reintroduce the reader to the main cast and plot essentially through the format of a short story.

another thing sapkowski does a lot is conveying everything through dialogue which, as you might know, is like bookish catnip to me lol. some dialogues are there just for the sake of dialogue, only bc the author wanted some side characters he made up to have a funny conversation. to be fair, at worst this structure becomes too meandering but i gotta say i find that chapters that are focused on mundane scenes seemingly going nowhere are more fun than plot focused chapters about sorceresses and wizards fighting or whatever. the witch trial chapter in baptism of fire - that's where it's at for me.

the thing i'm still not so sure about is the way women and women's issues are represented. very mixed feelings on what happens to milva in book three, tho i think i wouldn't be so skeptical had she not been the only woman on the main cast in that book. (cahir and regis are such fun characters with interesting motivations and stuff so ig i'm pissed that the only female character's deal has to be about that). ciri on the other hand is written very well imo and i totally did not expect her to be in a sapphic relationship. sure hope nothing bad happens to her gf🥲

vorkosigan saga by lois mcmaster bujold (read books one, two and four (??): shards of honor, barrayar and the vor game). so after reading the warrior's apprentice and the mountains of mourning last year i took a step back and read cordelia's books which i unfortunately didn't like. cordelia is a type of female character i don't vibe with and the gender themes in her books, while likely very progressive for their time, often made me roll my eyes, grind my teeth etc. in my goodreads reviews i explain my issues in more detail. the ethical implications of uterine replicators haunt me still😕

returning to miles in the vor game was both welcome and disappointing bc i keep expecting more from this man and he keeps falling short of my grand lymondesque expectations. in this book in particular i was immediately hooked on the arctic base plot only for it to be cut short bc this is a space opera and miles needs to go do pew pew pew in space, just like in book one. boo. now that i know weatherman was formerly a short story bujold later incorporated into the vor game i think it's curious that i seem to like miles a lot in short stories and novellas (the mountains of mourning remains my favorite) but am underwhelmed by the full length novel miles.

i will say however that now i have sufficiently adjusted my expectations and am very motivated to find out if there is a vorkosigan book out there that i will absolutely love. so i'll keep reading a few books per year - there's something soothing about slowly working one's way through a very long series😌

the realm of the elderlings by robin hobb (read books two and three: royal assassin and assassin's quest). the farseer books are the longest and (for the most part) the most boring books i have read this year. normally i don't torture myself like this but i wanted to do it for the fool and see how his relationship with fitz develops. was it worth it? i would say yes but only bc i let myself curate my own perfect reading experience and skimmed aggressively, sometimes skipping entire chapters. and i will do it again!👿 bc i will keep reading the elderlings books to see how the one million page yaoi plays out.

the only part of the farseer trilogy i really enjoyed was the second half of assassin's quest - not just bc fitz and the fool were cute and heart-wrenching together but bc of the entire unlikely fellowship on this quest. nighteyes is my favorite which is a feat on hobb's part bc normally i don't care about animal companions or am annoyed by them. kettle is iconic, always remember to take an auld woman on a quest (or she will chase you down and join despite your protests and prevarications). i hated starling but in a series where most characters provoke zero emotions that was a welcome change. kettricken was also there. their group dynamic was delightful and i wish the entirety of this series (or at least of this last book) was this slow burn psychological character study in close proximity group dynamics. but you can't always have what you want ig🤷‍♀️

what's next:

finishing the memoirs of lady trent - only one book in the main series is left and then there's also a spin off about her granddaughter, i think

rereading swordspoint which i first read back in 2020 and found underwhelming but it may just have been bc captive prince was such a hard act to follow for many gay books i tried back then. i hope i will like it more now that i can meet it halfway and if it goes well i want to complete the riverside trilogy right away

sometime this fall i'm gonna read pandora and vittorio the vampire. finishing the vampire chronicles is on my bookish bucket list and now, two whole years after i reread three of them to refresh my memory, i finally feel sane and brave enough to keep working towards that goal. so wish me luck🥲

finishing joanne harris' st oswald's series which started with one of my favorite dark academia novels gentlemen and players. i read the sequel last year and liked it a lot so now i want to read the final book a narrow door which also seems like a perfect autumnal read

the new evander mills mystery comes out in october and i'd like to read it before the year ends

2024 reading updates | goodreads

[nirogryphon]

whats ur parallel fanon

i'm assuming you saw this post, right? are you talking about that specific guy? that's adzuki. idk if you're wanting headcanons about what i think about that boss or an oc lore dump. to me they're both, so that's what you're getting. it's gonna get long, get some popcorn.

in my splatoons world post-memverse runthrough, beans (my four) beg marina to let it out because he saw that it was sentient and wanted it to join his bf as a polycule. It's got a very similar level of kindness and whatnot to beans, but is extremely dry, blunt, and overall "emotionless" (not true, we'll get to that).

you see, i don't think parallel canon is 4, but merely a program made to mimic 4. Marina wanted one of the best in the NSS, so she asked Beans (instead of Ty, who was an elite, but then again, who got their ass handed to all those years ago again?) to offer up a brain scan to get a copy of that fighting skill of theirs for what would become the Parallel canons. Unfortunately, like with any technology, this wasn't perfect, especially with someone who was sanitized like how beans is. That scan ended up grabbing some other aspects of him, like a bit of his personality and, mainly, his fear of himself. He's gotten over it for the most part, at least that's what he thought anyways. When testing, fighting a perfect copy of yourself isn't going to pop up really at all, so this doesn't come up as an issue until Marina's released her little game for the sanitized to use, allowing the one freak scenario to arise.

The rogue code, formerly dormant, activates immediately when beans ends up confronting parallel canon. He's hesitant at first, but remembers it's not him, merely code made to look and fight like them. So, without much worry, he begins to charge at it for the fight, that code kicking in to overdrive and making it act the exact way beans would if it were the other way around. It retreats. It cries out, garbled, in supposed simulated fear. Beans stops in his tracks, staring down at the clone, only seeing his socked face staring back in the reflection of the mask.

This sparks a snowball effect of new programming being written without an author, a program learning, becoming sapient, alive. A scenario that forces one to confront something he wasn't fully ready for and another to realize what it is. Subsequent run attempts, the two keep learning about themselves and eachother in combat, regardless on if either of them like it, until eventually coming to a rather peaceful confrontation, a realization that neither want to hurt the other, and yadda yadda yadda something something long messy story short it's a reconnection with the self and learning to love oneself again. I don't want to get into detail here, I'm personally still torn on whether or not this exact part should be sfw or not, so, lol.

Regardless, it's still ultimately what the memverse was made for: helping the sanitized remember and become themselves again, and while it isn't an evil agent 4, what we got works way better with what I had already and it's just perfect.

As for adzuki itself, I'm not sure exactly the details on its anatomy when given the physical form outside of the memverse. I do want to stick to a very similar palette to what PC has in the memverse, as well as being made out of goo still, but does that mean it's a physical jelleton in the walking world? Don't know for sure yet. I'll work that out in time. Adzuki's voice is an AI recreation of Beans', sounding extremely similar, but obviously synthesized.

As for personality, Adzuki is a lot like beans in its ideals and bonds. However, due to being based off code not meant to emote or show tone, it struggles a lot in doing so, save for a few exceptions. It can only really express emotion through body language instead, and a lot of what it says is extremely clinical, blunt, and dry. Think Data from Star Trek. Of course, that doesn't mean it is emotionless, quite the opposite. Adzuki merely expresses emotions very differently than the regular inkfish. There's also a few ways to gauge how intense the emotion it's feeling is via how unstable the goo it's made out of is or by how bitcrushed its voice has gotten. Essentially: the drippier and messier it is, or the more low quality the voice is, the more intense the emotion it's feeling is.

Some exceptions that break that stoic mask of sorts can be via substance use, like drinking or smoking weed. Once that code is overwritten inside it during these exceptions, Adzuki is almost indifferentiable from beans beyond appearance.

Adzuki, unlike canon PC, loves using the order roller the most out of all the order weapons. It's extremely annoying with it, and enjoys sneaking up on someone to vert-swing them.

[skepticalarrie]

Excuse me but where tf is Louis??? He's got a whole documentary coming out in less than 2 weeks and he's completely MIA? And the only promo we have received so far is a few articles and ads, a trailer that lasted barely 1min, and two red carpets? I don't know if I'm missing something but this feels too little. This is nothing compared to what they did with this is us (I wasn't in the fandom back then so correct me if I'm wrong but I see they did quite a lot interviews and stuff.)

Anyway, I feel like they're trying to do as little promo as possible and I'm starting to wonder why🤔

Last time I checked he wasn't (unfortunately) inside my pocket but I'm pretty sure he must be getting ready or already on his way to Japan to guess what- promote his documentary. In not one, not two, but three different continents. Don't get me wrong, love, I LOVE to complain about Louis' promo as much as the next person and god.. I really wish things were different with that. I had expectations that the promo for the film could be so different. But I mean, like you said, there are ads and articles and 3 red carpets and I'm assuming there will be interviews later on. There's promo happening, it's just not the way we want it to happen, which is a whole different story. It's a shitty one, mainly targeted to his own fans and happening by the effort of the fans. I get the frustration because we want things to work for him, but it's not like he owes us promo for his film and like... these kinds of stuff are always shady with Louis, is not like this is out of the ordinary isn't it? It's a shame. There are still a couple more weeks until it's actually out so I'm sure there will be more being done soon, not sure what kind of promo he was supposed to be doing now, it makes more sense if he's getting it done closer to the release date. Like I said about WAOYF earlier today, we're complaining before promo season even begins because we know it will be shitty, but it hasn't quite started yet. So. Plus, the thing is, promo and interviews will also come with a lot of fake fatherhood talk, so I don't think I'm very excited about it either. I'd rather him go MIA and whatever.

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

Nothing naughty or romantic here, but how would Killer Croc react to a group of kids thinking he's super cool because they think he's a dinosaur? They're not scared at all or being rude, they're just in awe. "Fuck Barney, this guy could wreck Barney's shit!"

Killer Croc in the Park

So. I ended up writing a short fic.

Tw: ableism, not particularly dark but unfortunately related directly to his appearance, implication of past drug addiction/abuse

When Killer Croc got to the park that day, he was already in a terrible mental space. He got released from Arkham on rehabilitation. Again. And again he found the outside world just as hostile as before to anyone that didn't fit their mold. Another job interview that ended before he could even get a word out.

Maybe he should try going back to sideshow gigs. The wrestling paid alright. It was that or stealing shit- not that he thought himself suddenly above it. But he's not fucking crazy like they say.

He knows the consequences of what will happen if he goes down that road again. The only time he seems to feel any kind of peace anymore is at the park. He can sit and no one bugs him. It's peaceful. He can watch the ducks.

What he didn't realize is that today he sat closer to a playground in the park than he normally would have. The moment this becomes apparent is when he sees a small girl running in front of him and then eating shit into the dirt and rocks. Before he can really stop himself, he's grabbing her up by the scruff of her shirt with his talons and setting her down on her feet.

As he speaks, the hint of a creole accent slips through, "You better watch it. Could get hurt." His voice is graveled and low- the result of teen smoking combined with his condition wreaking havoc on his vocal folds.

When her eyes open wide, he prepares himself for the screaming. That he's a monster. Scary. There's been many times he's made children cry just by his appearance. Got used to it when... that all started.

Instead of a frightened shriek, it's one of delight, "Are you a dinosaur?!"

He pauses. What. There's a moment he wants to tell her to fuck off. To scram.

He hesitates for a moment before clearing his rumbling throat, "Kid, you really think I'm a dinosaur?"

She nods, "Well- not one I've ever seen. And I've seen a LOT- my mom takes me to the museum a lot and- oh! OH! Hold on-! Don't go, okay?" She speaks so quickly he can't even get another word in edgewise. Then she's running off.

He figures she's just hyperactive until he sees a mob of small humans rushing towards him. Oh fuck, there's more of them. In an instant, the children surround him, staring. After the day he's had, he doesn't want to feel like he's on display. He's ready to stomp off when the little girl steps forward and speaks to the others, "I told you! This is my new friend, isn't he cool?"

"Is he a dinosaur?! Like... like Barney...?" A shy little boy asks.

Another boy crows, "Fuck Barney, he could wreck Barney's shit!"

Croc almost growls, "Watch your fff- frickin' mouth! Outta wash your mouth out with soap!" He points a talon and the cursing boy wilts.

"Sorry..." the kid looks nervous and now he feels bad.

"Don't be sorry," he says, "Just watch it. Too many... You're too little." He feels weird scolding children. It's not something he's done since he scolded younger cousins when he still lived nearby.

Another child in the group chirps, "What's your name?"

He almost answers his criminal name. Almost. It's what most know him as now. Yet as all these young faces look him he can't help but mumble, "...Waylon."

The girl is sitting next to him, "I knew that! My friend, Waylon."

He can't help but laugh, "Oh, yeah? Why don't I know your name, then?"

"Ella. I just forgot to tell you." She shrugs, "'Sides it was WAY more important to show you my other friends."

"Oh." He snorts, "What, you guys all like dinosaurs?" His grin is sharp and toothy. It doesn't quite look right with his lack of "lips." He can see one of the other kids looks nervous.

He stops smiling.

"Uhh um..." Ella seems to think, "Not Susie, Ethan or... Bobby. But they're not going to be mean to a new friend."

"Haven't your parents ever told you not to talk to strangers?" He finally asks.

"Yeah but that's like. Creepy people." One of the other kids is almost laughing at him, "You're not creepy people. You'd eat creepy people!"

He looks off to the side. They have no idea that he's actually tasted human flesh. Definitely not something they ever need to know, actually. Not exactly something he's proud of.

But he grins again, "Right I would. Especially if they try to hurt kids." That gets them excited.

"I bet I could fit my whole head in your mouth!" Another kid announces, "That's SO COOL!"

Before he knows it, he has several children hanging off his arms as he carries them around. Being above 7ft tall he can definitely get them high up off the ground. Swinging them lightly and safely. A couple of the more shy ones he lets them touch his ridges and claws. He's not surprised that several of the parents look over and seem frighted. Ushering their own children away. Yet none of these little beasts. It's only after about an hour and they're all laying in the sun talking that they start to get called to leave. One by one, they all laugh and tell him goodbye- that they'll see him soon!

Its just him and Ella now.

"Where's your mom?"

"Oh. She's right over there. Watching." The little girl points to a nearby tree where a woman sits on a bench, reading. She waves as the pair look over.

He hums, "How come she ain't scared? None of your parents..." he shrugs.

The question seems to confuse the girl, "Why would they be scared...? Oh. 'Cause they might be scared of dinosaurs, huh? That's for babies." She squints at the sun. She looks up. Croc looks up. Ella's mother is approaching.

"Hey, squirt." She smiles, "Having fun? I hope you haven't been bugging this nice man."

The little girl immediately goes into a ramble about all the things she did with her new friend and obviously she's not bugging him. Croc gets up off the ground and stares down at them both. Awkward. Why is this woman not acting the way others do?

The moment her daughter stops, the woman turns to him, "Nice to meet you, I'm Lenore." She reaches her hand out for him to shake.

He looks at her hand nervously, "I don't uh... I don't shake hands. I'm Waylon." He shows his claws and she takes back her hand.

"Sorry. Thank you so much for humoring the kids. They're a handful." She laughs and tilts her head.

"Nah, no- it's... it's no problem." He says softly. He looks around. When was the last time he had a pleasant conversation with someone where they just treated him like a normal person?

Too long.

He finally broaches the subject, "You all seem. Pretty okay with... with a freak playing with your kids."

Her brows move to sympathy and she shakes her head, "You're not- oh, please don't think that. Look. The truth is, it's a bunch of us parents that regularly bring our kids to the park. At first, yeah, we were kind of nervous when we first saw you." She shrugs and he winces.

But then she continues, "Derrick, he works in IT, Tim's dad, he did research that you were... rehabilitated. And some people were still weird about it... but then we noticed something."

He waits with baited breath, "What did you notice? Did I do something?"

Finally, Lenore shrugs, "It's not something you did. It's Gotham. And what we noticed is that suddenly- the park was way safer once you started hanging out. I mean. At least one of us would have something stolen, like, once a month. Creeps, super villains. Maybe it wasn't your intention, but hey. None of us are going to complain."

"And uh... the kids?" He motions to Ella who is already running and buzzing around them.

"Oh, she..." the woman is trying to think of a way to say it without offending him.

He gets it, "I look like a dinosaur. They like dinosaurs."

"She's crazy about them right now." She says, apologetic, "Just obsessed. And you know, we took all of them to the natural history museum so right now that's all they want to talk about- I'm... really sorry if they offended you."

It makes him smile, "It's not the worst thing I've been called. They're sweet kids."

Her smile in return is sweet, "Thank you. There's a lot of different people in the world. They need to know that."

"Yeah... yeah, there are." There's a moment he thinks briefly that if more parents were like these ones, maybe growing up wouldn't have been so bad for him. He's not going to say that, but the thought is there.

After a moment of silence, she clears her throat, "So hey. Waylon. Did you know that the uh. Playground here and the daycare are owned by the same guy?"

He shrugs, "Not to state the obvious, I'm not exactly a guy who pays attention to that."

"...Right. Well. Long story short, my uncle does. And..." she looks awkward herself, "I don't want to assume anything. But if you were ever looking for a job, I think I could put in a good word."

He scoffs, "As what? Hiding under the beds at naptime to be the bogeyman?"

That makes her laugh, "God, no! As an attendant. Kind of like security but a lot of it you're just watching them. At the actual daycare, on the playground. Ella hangs out there when I'm working and she's not at school..."

It's a strange idea for him. Working with kids? With his face? Jesus, he can't think of a job he'd be less qualified for.

She's quick to wave her hand, "I'm sure you have better offers. I'm probably coming off like some kind of ass- jerk." She's quick to correct herself. As the woman rubs her arm, he sees what he thinks are faint raised scars in the pit of her elbow.

When she notices him looking, she shrugs, "It can be hard raising yourself back up. Second chances are hard. Or third chances, or fourth..."

His eyes grow softer, "I hear that. How long did it take you?"

"She was three when I finally made my chance stick." Lenore smiles, "I know it's different but..."

He puts his hands up, "I'm not judging you, believe me. I uh... thanks... for sharing that. If you don't mind, I think I'd like an interview."

There's another pause between them. Then she laughs, "Do they even make dress shirts your size, big guy?"

He shrugs, "Sure. My tailor works well when I tell him I'll eat him if he makes it too small again." He's laughing and there's a moment she covers her mouth to laugh. Horrible!

Ella steps next to him and grabs one of his giant fingers in her small hand. When she smiles there's a gap from a missing tooth. Yeah. Maybe working with kids wouldn't be so bad.

[georgiapeach30513]

Does it feel odd how many cons he is doing to anyone else?? Like he is milking his con persona hard core but majority of those people who will drop 500+ for a 20 second hug and then boom he's forgotten your face won't watch this cult movie. They didn't watch Ghosted or PH. So the way he is riding the con circuit hard is almost...laughable. Everyone else out there getting awards and notable good press while he says he doesn't like the pressure and fame and Hollywood, but yet...a con??? It just feels really weird and icky to me. Like he's a washed up actor. And he's really not!! If he could get into some good things and stop taking these cheap grabs and be all happy when doing them but between he's a completely differnt persona...idk all I know is the movie announcement I was happy and now I'm back to rolling my eyes at this con announcement. Maybe I'm the only one who feels this way. 🤷‍♀️ I'm not excited for the con. It's gonna be another Go Portugal cash grab.

Does it feel odd? Nah, @nancydrewwouldnever had the thought he would be doing a Seattle con this year. So win for her 😂

As many people as that man sees, it isn't surprising that he's going to forget your face. It's not his job to remember all his fans faces. Ghosted was only going to be watched by his fans. And PH didn't do terribly it's first week, but unfortunately it will be forgotten. It will not make it into his top characters he's played.

We do not know what Chris wants for his career. Judging by the movies he tends to go for, I don't know if he fully wants to be an award winning actor. We don't know that.

Chris says a lot of things, and does the opposite. I remember hearing so many people saying he won't be working until after R1 releases, and here we are. He's ready to work, and part of working is being seen and getting attention. Actors always do cons. The Supernatural cast does cons every year still. Are they washed up? They're giving a tiny piece back to the fans, and talking about a show that they all loved being a part of.

You're saying cheap grabs, and he just announced a movie yesterday...I don't think that was a cheap grab. If you're not excited, maybe just don't watch. I'm not sure I know what to tell you.

[silviakundera]

Empresses in the Palace ep 20 - 21

I've consumed too many chinese dramas and novels not to expect that a triumphant general celebrated throughout the nation is gonna eventually end up headless. Emperors who rose to power by quelling a rebellion are not a big fan of competition.

But for now, Hua Fei is at the height of her power. She's not even needing to scheme & throw petulant tantrums much, which is unfortunately reducing her hottness quotient for me.

And with all of the toxicity.... Real sibling love, who truly seem to like and support each other? That's so nice for them fr. Amid all the dirt & layers of masks in the palace, it's a bit refreshing that Hua Fei and General Nian have each other's backs. Her family has been funding her to be glamorous in the palace and (from what we can tell) aren't hounding her & guilting her & implying she's worthless for not having a baby yet. Almost wholesome compared to the typical noble family members I see in dramas.

Ling Rong and Zhen Huan in their besties era. I don't ship them, but ok girls have a good time. 👌

Baby concubine in waiting Chun has such a strange life. Just hanging out in the palace, playing with the servants, but she's 16 now. danger 🚨danger 🚨

Such a brilliant move to juxtapose a domestic, charming scene of the emperor and Zhen Huan play-acting as a typical married couple with darling Chun'er bursting into the room for added cheer. And then cutting to still childish Chun being carried to the emperor's bed. Masterful followup to that sweet family-like scene that reveals the rot beneath. As childishly innocent and cossetted as she is... She is doomed to be just more meat for the machine.

Ep 22

Death flags right & left for my darling Hua Fei.

Prince Guo: "Unobtrusiveness and self-restraint is the way to survive in His Majesty's court."

If General Nian is as fantastic in battle as he is in digging his own grave, no wonder the whole nation has been kissing his ass.

It's opera night in the harem and none of these bitches knows how watch a drama. Timed comments ON but can't hold a candle to Viki posters. Girls, this is your first opportunity in 2 years to enjoy something that's not getting banged by a fugly monarch, poetry duels, or flower & tea appreciation. Maybe stop grandstanding and enjoy it?

Ep 23

PLAGUE !!!

I've watched The Tudors. I'm ready for shit to go down.

Oh look, my beloved Hua Fei is already scheming to infect her enemies. Honestly shocked that new baby momma what's her face hasn't been given toxic incense yet.

Ling Rong irriates the fuck out of me these days. 2 things that I can't stand: [1] UGH ambitious people in the workplace who don't put themselves out there and do the work to advance, but then are bitter & resentful when their proactive peers succeed (LR is so entitled, she wants to sit back and be rewarded; resents not having everything ZH has when her friend is grinding full-time to protect herself and their lil faction) [2] misrepresents friends' actions, interpreting everything in the light that they are using or mocking her, when the friend is just going about their day to day and isn't intending anything malicious.

Zhen Huan conveniently capturing & presenting key witness Liu Ben wasn't satisfying. I understand that, ok, maybe her runners could catch him now because there are limited places to avoid the plague. But it doesn't feel right. The first time in the drama that things felt too easy to escape a huge dilemma. Mei Zihuang has the plague! She's secluded and no doctors will see her! 😱 .... oh, ZH now a dozen episodes later happens to have found some flimsy evidence to release her. (seriously, she just brings in a villian to say stuff. he could be bribed? lying to protect a loved one? any number of things?) (this goes back to the whole theory, 'emperor never REALLY thought Mei'er was faking, he just didn't care and it was easier to go with it)

And then Hua Fei gets out of HER predicament also with hilarious convenience. Oh, it just so happens that her stooges found a plague cure? Right now? 🤔

[hopeymchope]

Danganlike, Ahoy: Process of Elimination

As we wait for the team behind the Danganronpa series to finally release the game they've been working on for almost five years now next month, why not fill the time with another recent release that's inspired by their work?

I've just started playing it myself.

Process of Elimination just came out in April, and the team behind it has been open about the fact that Danganronpa was one of their primary inspirations. As such, we once again we have a situation where a group of eccentric anime-style people are trapped in an isolated location where murders ensue! (At least this time, the cast isn't being forced/encouraged to all murder one another. ... Well, not YET.)

And the player character? We play as a detective-in-training with extremely low self-esteem who wears an all-black uniform and sports an ahoge sprouting from the black hair atop his head.

In other words: Shuichi.

We play as dollar-store Shuichi Saihara.

"We have Shuichi at home."

In all seriousness, his name is actually "Wato Hojo." But far as I'm concerned? This motherfucker is Discount Shuichi until he earns his own name. But make no mistake — I'm legitimately hoping our protagonist will manage to come into his own. I wish you the best of luck, D.S.!

Before we get any further, know this: There's a free demo available for this game! You can try out the early parts for free on your Switch, PS4, or PC! So there's very little reason NOT to do so if you're at all interested in a new Danganlike mystery Visual Novel-esque game with puzzles to unravel!

With that out of the way... if you're still here, I'll happily give you more info on the basic setup/backstory of the prologue and how the gameplay generally works.

Unfortunately for Discount Shuichi, he's far from the only detective on the premises when deaths start occurring. In fact, he's but one of MANY. But to explain why that's the case, we need to dig into the setup/backstory of this thing.

Here's the setup/backstory of our adventure: A serial killer who goes by "The Quartering Duke" appeared roughly a year ago. Since that time, he's committed more than 50 double murders, racking up an heretofore-unprecedented 100+ kills. To make matters worse: The fact that he's been on such a successful spree without generating any clear leads has led to multiple copycats springing up in his wake.

The citizens are living in fear, requests for bodyguard and private detective services are at a historic high, and the government has resorted to leaning on the Detective Alliance (or "DA") for assistance with the crime wave.

"Who dat," you ask? The DA is sort of like a detective union: A loose alliance of 100 private detectives who are given a numeric rank based on their skills and experience. So kind of like the Detective Library made famous to DR hardcores by Danganronpa Kirigiri, albeit with fewer members.

They're officially free agents, but they're largely contracted by the government as of late. Also: The members of the DA can't reveal their real names/identities. Instead, they only go by an adjective that describes them and the word "Detective."

A group of quirky detectives that each have a noteworthy trait? Is this taking inspiration from Rain Code BEFORE Rain Code is out?!

For example:

Gourmet Detective is an excellent chef in addition to her detective bonafides.

Rowdy Detective is typically aggressive and ready to throw down.

Techie Detective prefers to rely on technological tools for his work.

Posh Detective is... posh.

And as you no doubt see in the above image, our own character is dubbed the "Incompetent Detective." I wish I could say that was undeserved, but... nah. It check out.

When we first meet Discount Shuichi, he's botching a job he was assigned as an assistant at a smaller detective firm. He's brought into the Detective Alliance at the lowest rank of 100 JUST in time for he and another 13 sleuths to wind up isolated at DA's island headquarters with their communications out. And he quickly proves that he's not very swift on the uptake when it comes to the clues around him. I actually joked to my S.O. that maybe they'd dub him the "Inept Detective"... and two minutes later, he got the "Incompetent" label. And I laughed. It's harsh, but for now? It's fair.

Oh, and he even gets knocked out and wakes up inside a locker that is within his new murder-prison. +1 Shuichi Point!

Anyway, back to the story: To the surprise of everyone who isn't the player, a quartered dead body is soon discovered. It appears entirely likely that the Quartering Duke has made his way to Detective Alliance Island and is now trapped among them! Pretty soon, we're collaborating with other detectives to examine the crime scene and determine what went down.

I just started playing last night, so I don't have a lot more to report than that. I've only completed the first chapter/mystery so far. At the moment, it looks like we might only have ONE culprit throughout this game who commits all the murders... but given that we're already set up that there's a ton of copycats during the prologue/backstory, I wouldn't be too shocked if we encounter one or two others as the game goes on.

The bulk of the game is a visual novel experience with occasional binary choices that can lead to (minor/short) branches in events and/or impact your end-of-chapter score/grade. The balance is similar to a Danganronpa so far: You're mostly reading, but there's still one important segment where gameplay takes center stage and gets much more involved than merely reading the text. That core "gameplay" comes in the investigation sequences.

Isometric Investigative Action!

This is when we use our "dPad" (an iPad parody, not a directional pad) to direct all the titular detectives around the building. I'm not going to get into the story reason for why Discount Shuichi has this authority, so let's just talk about what he can do with it.

See, there will be "Mystery Points" that require a certain level of "Intellect" to unlock, and you can assign detectives with various numeric Intellect rankings to investigate them. If you put another detective beside such an investigating detective and assign them to "Assist," you get a significant boost in their Intellect skill that will help you break down the Mystery Point faster, revealing the clue underneath. Most Mystery Points will only take a single "hour" or "turn" to identify what the relevant evidence is, but some take multiple turns. Furthermore, once you identify a piece of evidence at such a point, you'll find that some of them require closer analysis to reveal all of their secrets. And each of our detectives ALSO has a numeric "Analyze" ranking. If they meet or exceed the rank needed to analyze the evidence, they can do so in a single hour/turn, revealing whatever additional info it holds.

Detective stats include a numeric Move rating, too! it controls how far they can move during a single turn. Usually, each turn lets you move a character and then assign them an action — but you can also choose to give a character full access to traveling the ENTIRE map if you need them to get very far very fast. Doing this means that moving will be ALL they can do for that particular turn, though.

Starting get the picture? The game is one of time and resource management. You have a limited number of hours/turns before you must complete an investigation, and each detective on hand has set numeric ratings that limit how much they can move and what they can successfully complete within a single turn. Your mission is to complete the analysis of the crime scene and all its evidence before your time is up, leveraging your team's unique stats to carve the most efficient path.

The first investigation is 50% tutorial, so it's pretty easy to complete it within the allotted hours/turns. For that reason, I don't yet know what happens if you take too long to find everything in an investigation. The game only threatened that doing so would cause "ANNIHILATION." ... Which sounds bad.

I think that's enough of an introduction to Process of Elimination. I'll just close by noting that it only contains Japanese voiceovers (no dub) and, although I found some elements of its story to already be super-obvious, they've been reasonably quick to reveal the most obvious elements during the first chapter rather than lingering on the mistaken assumption that we hadn't already figured their crap out. So I'm optimistic that they won't make this narrative TOO obvious or simple in the long run.

Looking forward to uncovering more!

[stargazer-sims]

Journal Entry #50

previously - Journal Entry #49 (part four)

Victor

It's Tuesday again.

I keep doing this, recording entries on Tuesdays. Unlike last Tuesday, nothing much happened today, but that's not to say I don't have news. Even if today wasn’t eventful, the weekend was.

I finally heard from Seiji. It took him until Sunday to reply to the multiple texts I'd sent him on Friday, but better late than never, as they say. What's going on with him will require some explaining, so let me come back to it, 'cause I'm sure you want to know how Yuri and I are doing too, right?

Right. Here comes the health update. There’s some good news and some not so good news.

Good news first; I'm feeling a lot better. It's like my body decided to kick itself into high gear and get some serious healing done since Friday. I’m still getting headaches, but they’re not nearly as intense as they were before, and the blurriness is completely gone from my vision now, which is super encouraging. Today, I didn't take any pain medication for my arms and rib, not even ibuprofen.

In hindsight, I think I probably should've had a little something in the afternoon, because my rib was hurting by the time I got back from spending several hours at the hospital with Yuri. The chairs in there aren’t particularly comfortable and it’s hard for me to sit for long periods of time. But, you know me. I was trying to be a tough guy about it.

My biggest problem right now isn't pain. It's that I'm restless and nearly bored out of my mind. I'm still not cleared for exercise, but I keep trying to sneak in some shoulder stretches and a bunch of leg work whenever I can. Normally, I'd be training, going to work, cooking and cleaning, and taking care of Yuri, but I can't do any of that at the moment and a guy can only take so much inactivity. I'm going kinda crazy with nothing to do.

As for Yuri, his progress hasn't been quite as good as mine. He's slowly getting better, but he's still in the hospital. It's been a whole week as of today, and I don't think he'll be getting out for at least another week.

He hasn't reached the stage where he's bored yet, probably because he's really weak and he's still sleeping a lot, but at least he's able to get out of bed on his own now. He was even up and walking for a few minutes this afternoon. I coaxed him to drink some water afterwards, which probably looked hilarious because I was holding the cup for him and I had to hold it between both hands while he sipped through a straw.

He's still not eating, unfortunately, so they're still giving him intravenous nutrition infusions. I'm sure he's capable of eating independently, but I think he's scared, and nothing anyone's said so far has been enough to motivate him to try.

Dr. Kasongo has already brought up the subject of tube feeding at home, but only with me because neither of us feel Yuri is ready for that conversation yet. Obviously, tube feeding will be an option of last resort, and we really don't want to frighten or upset him any more.

I’ll be honest, the idea upsets me too, not just because I hate the thought of how debilitating it’d be for Yuri, but also because I don’t think I grasped exactly how sick he is until I had that conversation with his doctor. Like, I’ve always understood that his illness is serious and chronic, but I don’t think I fully comprehended the magnitude of it, if that makes sense.

Dr. Kasongo is hopeful that we won’t have to go the tube feeding route, in any case. She’s certain Yuri will settle enough to start a liquid diet by mouth in another day or two, but I'm not sure it'll happen as soon as she imagines it will. Not without some kind of intervention, at least.

The nutritionist came to see him while I was there today, and he had a complete meltdown in front of her. It was pretty clear that he did not want to hear anything about the food plan she was suggesting for him once he's released from the hospital, and his solution was to dissolve into tears and ask her to leave. I think I've seen him cry more in the past week than in the entire duration of our relationship. Yuri hardly ever cries. He rarely shows any emotions really strongly for that matter, regardless of how he's feeling inside, and it's difficult to see him in such a vulnerable state.

The nutritionist told me she's going to ask the doctor to make a referral to a psychologist for him. I already know he's not going to like that, and I’m predicting he'll cause a scene over it, but I do think it's a good idea for him to speak to someone.

That having been said, I can also empathize with his reluctance. At first, I didn't want to talk to the psychologist Dr. Sato referred me to either, but now I actually kinda like him. The initial referral was supposed to have been to talk about the emotional effects of my accident, but I told him I can get over that by myself, so we discuss other stuff instead. I've talked to him about the death of my dad and sister, the stress of being the main caregiver for somebody with a chronic illness, and the challenges of being an immigrant.

He says I'm psychologically healthy and that I don't need long-term therapy. I agree one hundred percent, but having someone objective to confess all my doubts and insecurities to has really helped me feel a lot better mentally. I'm happy to have that support, to go along with the support I'm getting for my physical recovery.

We'll see how it goes with Yuri and his psychologist. I'm envisioning hysterical outbursts, but I'm sure one of us will let you know what happens for sure.

Okay, I guess now it’s time to tell you about Seiji and what happened on Sunday afternoon.

I'd been with Yuri for the morning on Sunday. Mom and Julian picked me up around noon, just after Yuri's grandmother arrived to visit with him. She had Yuki with her as well, so it was probably a good thing I was leaving. According to Yuri, the energy of me and Yuki together in a room can sometimes be a bit overwhelming for other people. The last thing he needed was to deal with that.

Anyway, Mom, Julian and I had lunch at my favourite sushi bar, which was kind of chaotic because neither of them knows how to use chopsticks and even though I'm a chopstick wizard, I can't use them right now either. We all ate with our fingers, which earned us a lot of disapproving stares. I think people were mostly staring at me because I was picking up pieces of maki with the fingertips of both hands together, but I didn't care.

Back at home, stuffed to the brim with salmon, eel, rice and vegetables, I was ready for a nap on the couch and was not at all expecting my phone to ring. When it did, I was startled out of my drowsy stupor, and nearly fell off the sofa. Then, I recognized Seiji's number on the caller ID and all thoughts of napping suddenly dissipated like mist.

I tapped the 'answer' icon on my phone's screen, and didn't even bother with hello.

"Hinamori-san! Where the hell have you been?" I demanded. "Sakura and I have been trying to reach you for days, you know."

"We're not on a first-name basis now, Nelson-san?" was his testy response.

"Really, Seiji? You ghost me for days, and you're annoyed with me?"

"Sorry.”

"Yeah, you should be."

"I wasn't ready to talk," he said. "I went out to the country, to my grandparents' estate, 'cause I just needed to get away for a while."

"What for?" I asked. "And why didn't you tell Masao you were going? Why didn't you tell Takahiro and Fox? Like, how do you leave town without even telling your best friend and his boyfriend?"

"I headed out when Taka was at work," Seiji confessed. "I left him a note."

"You... No, you know what? Never mind," I said. "Why did you need to get away. Did something happen?"

"Did something happen?" he repeated, his tone incredulous. "Dude, are you kidding me right now? How are you even asking that? Like, what do you think happened?"

"I... don't know." I said, perplexed.

"You're so stupid, Victor.” He sounded as though he meant it.

I did my best to force down the familiar sting of humiliation at hearing that. Kids at school used to call me stupid, and it’d always made me feel horrible. My inner child wanted to cover his ears and hide under the nearest desk so he could cry without drawing even more ridicule.

But then, a little voice in my brain that sounded very much like Sayuri Ishida's seemed to whisper, that's not true.

It really isn't true, and I need to keep reminding myself of it. Dr. Ishida had put that monster from my past to rest, once and for all, and I used her words like a shield in my mind. You have an eye condition called hyperopia. Your ability to read is normal. Your intelligence is above average.

“I’m not stupid,” I said, as calmly as I could manage. It was mostly for my own benefit, but still, I wasn’t interested In letting Seiji’s dig at me go so easily.

Seiji made a dismissive snorting noise. “Whatever. Must be the head injury, then.”

I pulled in a deep breath. "Seiji, listen. I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Can you please tell me what's going on? Me and Sakura and Masao have been worried about you.”

“Masao should know,” he said.

“Maybe, but Sakura and I don’t.”

Several seconds passed before Seiji finally spoke again. “Fine. I guess I owe you some kind of explanation. Can you… are you like, okay to go out? I don’t want to talk about it on the phone, but Taka said you’re in a wheelchair and…uh, you know…”

“I’m not in a wheelchair,” I said. “I had to use one for like, maybe three days after I got out of the hospital. That’s all.”

“So, you can go out?”

“Yeah, but you’ll have to come and get me if you want me to go somewhere with you. I’m not cleared to drive yet.”

"When's a good time?"

"Now? I'm not doing much, so whenever works for you, works for me."

"Okay," he said. "If you literally meant now, I can be there to pick you up in like, twenty minutes."

"That sounds good," I agreed. "That gives me plenty of time to grab some water and throw on a sweater."

You're at home, right?"

"I'm at home. See you when you get here."

He showed up about twenty-five minutes later, looking like he'd spent the week in a tent rather than living in luxury at his grandparents' sprawling country estate. His hair was a mess, there were dark smudges beneath his eyes, and he was moving like he was the one who was injured. He looked like he hadn't gotten more than a few hours sleep in the last several days.

"You look worse than I do," I commented, once we'd exchanged greetings.

"You look... surprisingly good," he remarked. He sort of nodded at my arms, where the bottom of my casts were peeking out past the ends of my slightly too-long sleeves. "You know, except for that."

"I'll be rid of these in a few more weeks."

"And then what? Back to the mountain?"

"Naturally," I said.

I couldn't interpret the expression that passed across his features. It didn't last long, but I hadn't missed it, and it could've been anything from disbelief to worry to disapproval. It could've been some combination of all three.

"Let's get going," he said, and although neither of us verbally acknowledged it, we both blatantly pretended the previous few seconds hadn't happened.

The car ride was weird. Normally, Seiji and I would be joking and laughing, listening to music a bit too loud, and talking about our favourite subjects. This time, we were silent, and the only sound in the car was Snowflake by Arashi, playing quietly on repeat.

Where we eventually ended up was in the valley, in Hanamigawa Park. The last time I'd been there was on Yuri's birthday, back in September. The park had been vibrant with colour then. Now, it was brown and grey and dismal, the last vestiges of winter not quite having given way to the tenuous first signs of spring.

We got out of the car, and I followed Seiji across the grass until we came to a bench.

"So...?" I prompted, after it felt like we'd sat there for at least five minutes, staring at our shoes.

"So, what?"

"About that explanation you owe me."

"Yeah." He scuffed the toe of his boot on the ground. "I've been thinking."

"About what?"

"I'm going to move to the city. Try to get a grown-up job. Maybe go back to college or something."

"What are you talking about?" I said. "Your job with the Recreation Association is a grown-up job. There's a lot of responsibility in teaching people how to ski and snowboard."

"It's not the kind of responsibility I want any more, if I ever did."

"What?"

"I quit," he said.

"You quit your job?"

"I quit everything."

At that, an awkward silence stretched between us for several seconds because I had no idea how to respond. I wasn't sure what he meant by 'everything'. I thought I could guess, but I didn't want to assume.

When the lull was starting to feel too long, I finally ventured, "Define 'everything'."

"Everything," he repeated. "I quit my job, I told Taka I'm moving out, and I'm hanging up my board. Masao already knows, so don't bother to ask if I've told him."

"You're not going to compete any more?"

"I'm not going to snowboard any more."

I stared at him. "Why?"

As if it were too difficult to hold my gaze, he looked away from me and began to fidget with his hands. "I can't do it any more," he said.

"But... why?"

"You know how people say the mountain is magical? That there's a guardian spirit?"

"Yeah."

"It's just a story," he said. "The mountain is nothing but a cold, dead rock, and it'll take everything from you with no regrets. With no feelings at all. I named my snowboard because, for some dumb reason, I let myself think it had some kind of spirit inside too, but you know what? It's just another lifeless object."

I had to admit that what he said was correct. From a purely factual standpoint, the mountain is rock and snow, and snowboards are just Fiberglas and wood or carbon, but I have to admit I like the idea of there being something more to them than that. I love the stories of the mountain spirit Yukimatsu and his beautiful sword Shirayuki, and I believe that Elsa is more than a piece of sports equipment. When Elsa and I are flying down the mountainside, I definitely feel something from her, and sometimes I imagine I can hear her singing.

"I thought you loved snowboarding," I said.

“Maybe I used to. Or maybe I still do, but it's like a toxic relationship that you can't seem to leave until it's almost too late. Like, you can't make yourself get out of it until it steals every last bit of hope and happiness you ever had."

"I don't understand," I said, because I really didn't.

"Do you know, I think I might've accidentally hurt Masao, trying to get to you when I saw you go down?" he said. "You know how tiny he is, and he was trying to hold me back."

"I didn't know," I said.

"If it wasn't for Fox, I probably would've..." He didn't complete the thought, but instead continued with. "Takahiro said I was literally screaming. The thing is, though, I don't remember. I don't remember Masao grabbing me, or me knocking him to the ground or... anything. All I could think was, you could be dying and the people you care about most wouldn't even be beside you."

"Obviously I didn't die."

"Yeah, but how were any of us supposed to know that at the time? You didn't see it the way we saw it. Masao said it looked like you could've broken your neck, and I... I couldn't handle losing somebody else like that."

It took a second for my brain to register what he'd just said. Somebody else. Had he seen another snowboarder go down like I had? Someone who hadn't been as lucky as me?

"Who...?" I began, but quickly closed my mouth because something told me I shouldn't pry.

But, it was too late to worry about it when Seiji started to answer anyway. "Didn't Yuri ever tell you about Tsubaki?"

I tried to recall if Yuri had ever mentioned anyone by that name. "I don't think so. Who is she?"

"I thought he told you everything," Seiji said.

"Apparently not."

"Tsubaki was our..." he trailed off, and then amended. "She was the woman I loved."

"Oh."

"She was our teacher in our final year of high school," he went on. "Me, Taka and Yuri were in the same class, so we all knew her. She wasn't that much older than us and most of the boys in our year had a crush on her, but for whatever reason, she liked me and Taka best. Maybe 'cause she was into snowboarding like we were."

"You went snowboarding with your teacher?"

"Not while she was our teacher," he said. "But, we all talked about it all the time, and we'd see her up on the mountain on the weekends."

I'd seen one of my high school teachers skiing on Granite Mountain once. It had felt strange and out of context to me, and I'd tried to pretend I hadn't even noticed him. But, regardless of my effort to ignore him, the rare sighting of my chemistry teacher outside his natural habitat had been enough to distract me, and it resulted in me getting yelled at by my coach at the time.

I'm sure I succeeded in forgetting about it almost immediately afterward, and I’d never even dreamed of bringing it up with him at school. I couldn’t help but winder what it would've been like to have a teacher like Tsubaki, who I could've geeked out about snowboarding with.

"Seems like she would've been a cool person to know."

"She was amazing," he said. "When we graduated, she said we could call her by her given name, and we became friends. We all used to hang out, me Taka, Yuri, Tsubaki and her best friend Mei. We went snowboarding together then, and we did other stuff like going on road trips or going to someone's place for a meal and to play games or watch movies. Or just talk. Tsubaki and I talked a lot."

"What happened?" I asked.

"With me and her?" he said. "She always told me that she didn't want to have a relationship with me, but towards the end, I felt like things were changing between us. She was starting to treat me less like a friend and more like... well, not a boyfriend exactly, but something deeper than snow buddies, you know?" He sighed. "Then everything... ended."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Yuri really never told you about any of this? He never told you about Tsubaki's accident? How she..." He paused, closing his eyes. "How the mountain took her from me."

It was at that point when I realized Yuri actually had told me. I hadn't made the connection immediately because he hadn't gone into detail and hadn't used Tsubaki's name, and I hadn't wanted to press him for information. "He mentioned he had a friend who died in a snowboarding accident," I said. "We didn't talk much about it."

That figures. Yuri wasn't that close to her anyway." He gave a little shrug. "Yuri doesn't know how to be close to people.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Are you saying he’s not close to you?” I asked.

“Dude, from where I’m standing, he’s not even all that close to you,” he said. “I mean, where the hell was he when you needed him? At work, and even when all of us were at the hospital with you and we were trying to call him, he ignored us. You know how many times Taka tried to reach him?”

“He was probably in a meeting,” I said.

“Why wasn’t he on the mountain with you? That’s where he should’ve been.”

"His job is important, Seiji. Besides, what happened probably would've happened anyway, even if he had been there.”

"That's not the point," Seiji said. "The point is, he doesn't care about anybody but himself. Why was it you and Sakura who were checking on me? He's supposed to be my friend."

"Sakura and I are your friends too," I reminded him. "Yuri couldn't check on you. He's been in the hospital since Tuesday."

"So what? He's too sick to send a text?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, he was." I met his gaze. "Are you seriously mad at Yuri because he didn't text you for a week?"

“I’m mad at him because he’s an asshole. Because he got someone he doesn’t appreciate or even deserve.”

“So, you’re not actually mad at him. You’re jealous.”

“Whatever,” he said. “I know you love him, but wouldn't it be better to love somebody who gives a shit about you? If you'd died out there, he would've just carried on with life as normal."

"No, he wouldn't," I said. "You obviously don't know him as well as you think you do, if that's what you believe."

"I know him well enough," he said. "I've never seen him shed a tear over anything or anyone. But you? You treat everybody like they matter, and you deserve at least that much in return."

"Everyone deserves to be treated like they matter because everyone does matter," I said. "Where are you even going with this?"

"You didn't have to come halfway around the world for Yuri. You could've stayed safe at home and had anyone you wanted.”

“I want Yuri,” I said simply.

"I don't know why. He's a crappy partner."

“Yuri loves me just as much as I love him, and he treats me like I matter," I said. "Maybe you’re convinced he’s a crappy partner because he wasn’t where you thought he should be, but that’s not how it works. We don’t get to script real life to our tastes. It just happens, and sometimes it sucks, and then we gotta figure out how to deal with it.”

“You think I don’t know that?"

"Do you?"

"My life has sucked for the last three and a half years," he declared. "Worse than yours, probably.”

“My life doesn't suck," I said. "There are parts of it that suck. Like, everything's not always easy or fun, but overall it's good, and I'm happy."

"Then, you're delusional." He got up abruptly and started to walk away. "This was a waste of time."

Stunned by the suddenness of his decision to leave, I stared at his retreating figure for several seconds. When I pulled my wits back into place at last, I had to run — contrary to doctor’s orders — to catch up to him.

"Seiji, wait!" I called. "We're not done."

He glared at me. “Yes, we are.”

"You said you were going to give me an explanation."

"I did. It's not my fault that you're too dumb to figure it out."

That was the precise moment in which I lost my temper. I think that if I could've grabbed him and shook him, I would have, but maybe it was a good thing I couldn't.

"I'm not dumb!" I yelled. "I'm sick and tired of everyone saying I'm stupid! I'm probably smarter than you, but I'm not a damn mind reader, so if you want me to understand something, then explain it in a way that makes sense!"

"Fine!" he said. "You want it in language your brain can handle? Here it is. I'm done pretending I'm okay. I don't want to be in this place, hanging around with people who remind me how useless I am and how much I've lost. I don't want to be on that damn mountain every day, thinking of her."

“But—”

"I can't keep running the risk of putting my parents through what her parents had to go through. What I had to go through. It's not worth it. I'd rather have nothing myself than to leave my family with nothing."

"But, there's lots of other stuff—" I began.

“There isn't," he said. "Snowboarding was the only thing I was good at. I’ve failed at everything else. Like, I was rubbish in school, and I was useless as a medic. I couldn’t even…”

“What?”

“There was only snowboarding, but you know what? Snowboarding fucking wrecked my life, Victor! There's no part that it didn't touch, and I can't fix anything now. All I can do now is protect the people I love, and try to forget it."

By the time he was done with this speech, he was crying. Evidently not wanting me to see that, he wiped his sleeve across his eyes so fiercely that I'm sure it must've hurt.

"Seiji—"

"Leave me alone," he said.

“You’ll never forget, you know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You can go to the city if you want,” I said. “You can go to the other side of the world or a whole other planet, but you're never gonna outrun grief or anger or whatever. You might think you feel better for a while but there's really no place far enough away to escape from it."

"What the hell would you know about it?"

"You might be surprised by what I know about it," I told him. "But I'm not gonna give you a lecture. If you’re not ready, you wouldn't listen anyway.”

"I doubt you know about it like I do," he said.

"Maybe not exactly in the same way you do," I conceded. "But, you know what? I get what it's like when somebody who was the center of your world suddenly isn't there any more."

There was a lot more I could've said. I wanted to tell him I know what it feels like to think about someone every single day and picture how the future might've been different if they were still around. I often wonder about all the stuff Dad and Caroline and I might've said to each other, and all the ways I could've been a better person when they were alive, and how they'll never know what i learned because of them, and who I became because of them.

Tears were still leaking from Seiji's eyes, but he wasn't trying to hide them any more. As I watched, he stood there with his head bowed and whispered, "I couldn't save her. No one could."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

He shook his head, but regardless of that, he started telling me anyway. "It was just a normal Saturday," he said. "I was working with Mountain Patrol, and my team got the call about an accident up on the expert run. I didn't know it was her until we got there. The advanced care paramedic on our team took one look at her and somehow he knew right away that her neck was broken. It was really bad."

"That had to have been a shock."

"They took her in a helicopter down to the hospital in the valley." He went on as if I hadn't spoken. "You know, to assess her and try to stabilize her. They might've rushed her to one of the big hospitals in Kyoto afterwards, but... there wasn't time. Her parents were in Tokyo, and there wasn't time for them to get here, either. Me and Taka were the only ones with her, and I don't know if she was aware of us being there, but I was holding her hand when she passed."

"I'm sorry," I said.

I thought about my mom. I hadn't found out until many years later that she'd been with my dad in the hospital when he passed and had been able to say goodbye to him one last time. Caroline had been killed almost instantly, so Mom didn't get that final goodbye with her, and I can't decide if that was a blessing or not.

I mean, I can't wrap my head around how terrifying and soul-shattering it'd be to hold your baby as she took her last breath. Watching your partner die would be devastating enough, but losing a child...? And my mom had to suffer through both. The pain she felt must've been immeasurable, making even mine seem minor in comparison.

I don't know how she handled it. I don't know how she survived it. I think if something happened to take Yuri away from me, I'd die too, of a broken heart. Or maybe I wouldn't literally die, but I'd wish to stop existing if he wasn't by my side.

I had to resist the urge to hug Seiji as he stood there crying. His whole body was visibly rigid, and I knew he wouldn't want me to touch him. Takahiro probably would have if he were there, but Taka the compulsive hugger could get away with it and Seiji might even relax enough to reciprocate. In fact, Taka is the only person I've ever seen give Seiji a hug that didn't look unnatural or uncomfortable. Had Seiji always been that way, or had his trauma caused him to change?

He swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I shouldn't have told you all that."

"It's okay. You must've needed to say it."

"Maybe. It was just... that thing you said. About somebody being the center of your world? She was, you know. She would've been, for the rest of our lives. I would've taken care of her, and I think we would've been happy, but... None of that's gonna happen now."

"Have you ever talked about this with anybody before?" I asked.

"Only Taka," he said. "He's the only one who understands. Everybody else thinks it's ridiculous 'cause we weren't even in a relationship."

"A friendship is a relationship. So what if you weren't her boyfriend? That doesn't mean it should hurt less."

"You don't think I'm like, being dramatic or whatever?"

"Why should I think that?" I said. "I don't have the right to tell you how you're supposed to feel or what your grief is supposed to look like, do I? Maybe you're like Yuri and you hardly ever cry for anything, no matter how destroyed you feel, or maybe you're like me and you cry over every little thing, or maybe you're somewhere in between. It doesn't matter. It's all valid."

"Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me for letting you feel however you feel."

"Yeah, I do. Most people would judge me for it."

"I'm not into judging other people for their feelings," I said. "I've got plenty of my own that I'm busy judging myself for."

"You shouldn't. Like, if you can tell me my feelings are okay, you can tell yourself that."

I offered him what was probably a lopsided smile. "I'm working on it. My psychologist says I have to stop creating burdens for myself."

"You're seeing a therapist?"

"Yeah. Unbelievable, right? My doctor referred me to him after my accident, but we've been talking about everything. He's helping me get perspective."

"Perspective," Seiji repeated, as if he were contemplating it.

"You know," I said. "Like how some stuff in your life seems so big and overwhelming, you don't know how you're supposed to deal with it? Sometimes you have to break the situation down and manage it bit by bit."

"Like learning a trick," he said.

"Exactly. Remember when you first learned to ride? There were probably lots of people around you doing all kinds of crazy tricks, and you couldn't even do an ollie yet. Now, you're the one who's flying, but you had to build up to it, one skill at a time."

"So, how am I supposed to do it?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "Maybe start off with figuring out what's really going on in your head. Like, are you sad or angry or scared, or what? And then... I don't know. Ask yourself exactly why. Like, if you're angry at a specific person, or you're scared about a certain thing."

He nodded. "I guess that makes sense. But... do you think I need professional help for that?"

"Maybe? I'm probably the last person you should ask about that. I didn't even know I needed professional help until I was getting it."

"But, it's working, right?"

"Yeah, but it's not magic. You have to want to get your shit together before you can get your shit together, and you have to work at it."

"Good to know."

"Listen," I said. "Everything's gonna be okay. It may take a while, and it might not look exactly how you wanted it to, but it eventually does get better."

"Thanks."

This time, I could feel my smile in my entire face. "You're welcome, but give credit to Yuri, too. He taught me that."

"Yuri taught you optimism?"

"He taught me about resilience," I said. “That’s better than optimism.”

“How so?”

"’Cause it’s realistic. And it’s honest.”

“I see how optimism can be unrealistic.”

“Resilience is sort of like body armour,” I said. “Having it on doesn't mean nothing ever hurts you. Sometimes it hurts like hell, but you get through it and you survive, and eventually the pain isn’t so bad any more. Yuri's constantly showing me that, whether he realizes he is or not."

"Okay," was all he said in response.

He started walking again, in the direction of the park gates. I fell into step beside him, and the quiet between us this time didn't feel quite so fraught.

When we reached the place where we'd left his car, I asked, "What are you going to do now?"

"Take you home, I guess," he said.

"I meant in general."

"Oh." He shrugged. "I don't know. I'm going to Kyoto tomorrow. I've got a couple of appointments to view apartments. Do you want to come?"

"So, you're definitely moving?"

"I guess so."

"What kind of job do you think you'll get when you move there?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not really," I said. "I was just curious."

"I'll probably end up in a convenience store," he said. "But, I was training to be a paramedic before, so I might be okay at taking care of sick people at home or something. And I like kids, so maybe I'd do all right working in a daycare. Or tailoring. I learned how to draft patterns and sew from my mother, so I could probably do that."

"I didn't realize you were training to be a paramedic. When you said 'medic' before, I thought you meant you had the certified mountain rescue course. The advanced first aid one."

"I do have that certification," he said. "But, I was in college for paramedicine. After she... after Tsubaki died, I dropped out because couldn't handle it any more."

"How far did you get?"

"Not very far. I finished the first in-class module, and Mountain Patrol was my first part-time clinical placement. That was it." He made a face that might've been self-disgust. "Useless, right?"

"Not necessarily," I said.

"What?"

An idea was starting to form in my head, but I didn't want to say too much to Seiji until I'd had a chance to talk to Yuri about it first. "You think you could drop me off at the hospital instead of at my house?"

"I'll drop you off anywhere you want," he said. "But, what'd you mean?"

"About you quitting college?"

"Yeah."

"There might be more options for you than snowboarding or working in some dodgy convenience store in the city."

"Right."

"I'll come with you to Kyoto tomorrow," I said.

He frowned at me. "You've got some kind of ulterior motive, don't you?"

"Maybe."

"You're trying to convince me not to move."

"No, I'm not trying to do that. If you want to check out the opportunities in Kyoto, there's no reason not to. All I'm saying is that you might want to go there with something better in mind than working at a convenience store. Like, if you're serious about home care or child care, maybe try it out and see if you like it before you take off to the city and commit yourself to a lease and everything."

"You think I should do that in Mt. Komorebi?"

"Think of it as a safety net," I said. "Stay home for a bit longer, try some different stuff and find out what you really want. Then go off and chase your dream, whatever it is."

"What if I really don't want to stay here?" he said.

"Nobody can force you to stay. All I'm saying is, before you leave, make sure you're deciding and not just reacting."

"Okay," he said. "But I still feel like you're up to something."

"I'll tell you about it tomorrow," I said.

"I'm not going along with it, whatever it is."

"You don't have to go along with it, but you should at least wait to hear what it is."

He drew back his arm as if he were going to punch me, but only flicked my shoulder instead. "You're a massive pain in the ass, you know."

"Yeah," I said. "I hear that a lot, but for some reason, people love me anyway."

"I hate you," he growled, but I knew he wasn't being serious. "Get in the car, Nelson. Wouldn't want to keep you from your pain in the ass other half."

"You didn't really mean what you said about him before, did you?"

If I was expecting an apology or a retraction, I would've been disappointed.

“Some of it,” Seiji said. “He is an asshole, and you seriously could've done better, but if you're happy..." He raised his hands in a gesture that seemed to indicate there was no further comment he could offer. "Anyway, you can tell him I'll come by and see him in a day or two. I'll make Taka and Fox come too, if they haven't been there yet, and I'll bring daifuku mochi. The strawberry kind."

"He's not eating," I said.

"Since when has Yuri ever said no to strawberry mochi? Me and Taka have literally seen him too weak to sit up, and he’d still be lying there demanding a little bite of our strawberry mochi. It's his all-time favourite. That, and tinned peaches, but they're probably already on the lunch menu at the hospital."

"How do you—"

"Just tell him," Seiji said, "And tell him I'll even feed him if he needs me to. Oh, and also tell him to expect a huge piece of my mind for what he did to you. He had no business abandoning you like that, and he definitely has no business taking you for granted. Actually, having somebody as devoted to his pathetic little ass as you are, he should consider himself the luckiest person in the universe."

I didn't show it on the outside, but inwardly, I was both relieved and amused. It might not be an apology, but I figured this was as close as Seiji would get to saying he still considers Yuri his friend.

Even if I hadn't liked hearing what he'd said about my husband, I couldn't blame Seiji for being upset. From Seiji's point of view, maybe Yuri's behaviour after my accident had looked horrible and uncaring, but Seiji hadn't seen him in my room with me immediately after. He hadn't heard the pain and guilt in Yuri's voice when he told me over and over that he was sorry, and he hadn't seen how hard Yuri worked to help me at home when he really should've been resting himself.

"I'll tell him," I said. "I think he'll be glad to see you."

"Yeah, whatever." He opened the passenger door for me, and I climbed into the car. A moment later, he slid into the driver's seat. "I'm leaving for Kyoto at eight in the morning. You'd better be up and dressed when I get to your place."

"Don't worry," I assured him. "I'll be ready."

((More about Seiji & Tsubaki from a different perspective, for anyone curious))