#censored because i will not speak his name

[agentdanieljacobi]

anth*ny b*rch really took the "happy" out of "happy fathers day"

[elytrafemme]

every single fictional character i like should split and have mood swings like me. "ohhhhh but it's not canotical" "ohh they have good control over their emotions and stable views on the world" i don't fucking care. i see cq in his fake desert i see klavier's control dialogue i see dahlia and her serial murders and komaeda and the gun literally fuck with me right now. we need to stop being cowards about our fictional character headcanons i think everyone should kill people always because i can't

[loud-mouth-loser]

not him - 3

summary: you meet steven for tea...

pairing: marc spector? x reader, steven grant? x reader

tags: angst, feelings, confusion, miscommunication, tension, cliffhanger, all the good things we hate, an incredible use of italics and em dashes, no marc :(

wc: 2.4k

note: hey...it's been (checks the blog) a year and a few months...hi...

ch. 1 | ch. 2

[an extended author's note is at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers!]

---

Your POV

Warmth seeps into the pads of your fingertips as you clutch the paper coffee cup in front of you. You initially ordered a medium iced coffee, but when your name was called you were presented with a hot cup of something else. 

You took it without complaint, eyes briefly glancing along the long line by the register before returning to the misspelled name scribbled onto the side of the cup. You’re sure the baristas are overworked, so as long as it’s caffeinated and palatable, you’ll be fine.

Some may call you spineless because of this, but you like to think you’re just…easygoing, flexible – able to adapt to unexpected changes without too much fuss. But now, with those soft brown eyes staring back at you from across the table, you realize that change is harder to face than you initially thought.

Steven has his usual Earl Grey steaming in a lidless cup next to a pile of tea-blotted napkins. He already found a way to spill his drink on the table before taking a single sip. He mumbled a censored curse, quickly using three folded napkins to soak up the herbal puddle before it could drip to the floor. 

You couldn’t help but watch silently as he cleaned up the mess, his dark brows furrowing as he evaluated the table that separated the two of you. His eyes flashed with a brief spark of harshness directed at the empty space before him, masking over his usual gentle look. You could see the flood of self-reproaching thoughts that rushed through his mind as he pushed the soggy mess to the side. The short bout of frustration painted on his face immediately reminded you of Marc –

And suddenly you're reintroduced to the issue at hand.

Other than the portion of tea on the napkins, Steven’s drink is full, sitting there untouched as he looks back at you like he’s waiting for you to start the conversation. As if he wasn’t the one who invited you out. You’re used to him babbling through the silence, even if the conversation holds no substance.

You fiddle with the cafe’s logo sticker on your cup, peeling it off halfway before pressing it back, an attempt to distract you from looking back up at him. You can feel his stare backing you into a corner. 

Thoughts rush through your mind as an unfamiliar tension surrounds the two of you. 

He doesn’t know, right? 

No, he can’t.

Marc was fronting last night and Steven went to bed early. It’s not like he’d tell him anyway. 

Why would he?

– 

Steven’s POV

“Good day at work?” Your voice comes out softer than he’s used to, hesitant…testing – as if you haven’t heard yourself speak since you left his flat. 

“Work?” Steven takes a sip of his drink — not because he’s thirsty, but to buy himself some time to come up with an excuse for why he missed work today.  He winces slightly from the heat of the tea. He can’t lie to you, but he can try to soften the truth. “Right, I-um…” And the truth was: Marc decided to use one of his rare vacation days to mope around because of what happened the previous night. “...slept through my alarm again today.” 

You finally look up from your cup and meet his stare, eyes rounded with concern. “Steven.” He scratches the back of his neck, feeling guilty for lying to you, but you interpret his sheepish expression as a response to your usual soft scolding about him missing work. “Donna is not going to be happy. You’ve already missed a handful of shifts this month!” Donna, his manager, has always been hard on him – no matter how many extra shifts he picks up or how late he stays, it’s never good enough for her. 

Steven hides his small relieved smile as he watches you fuss over him, murmuring about different ways he could get a better night's rest or the various alarm clocks that you’ve read about. It’s only now that he notices the warm feeling he gets when you worry about him. 

“It’s okay, I just called in sick last minute.” This time he isn’t lying, he did call in once he got the body back, but Donna wasn’t happy to hear about it. But really, when is she ever happy to hear from him?

“This is coming out of your paycheck, Stevie.”

Oh, how he hates that nickname…

But he doesn’t want to think about that now, he’ll deal with the consequences of Marc’s actions later. 

Right now, he wants to deal with…the consequences of Marc’s other actions.

You reach across the table and take his free hand, a comforting gesture you’ve often used in the past to capture his attention whenever you sense his mind is racing with hundreds of thoughts. 

“Alright, but if you want, I could call you in the morning to wake you up? I’m already up at that time anyway.” 

Steven almost flinches when you wrap your fingers around his. He can’t help but stare down at your touch. Your hand is so soft, and warm, his eyes flit to your face, just like your li– 

Wait, what is he thinking? That wasn’t even him! 

You’ve done this countless times before, so why does this feel different all of a sudden?

—

Your POV

You watch curiously as his gaze grows distant, “Steven?” You softly squeeze his hands to wake him up from his thoughts.

“Um, call – alarm?” Steven pulls his hand from yours and fiddles with the collar of his shirt which suddenly feels quite tight against his neck. “No, it’s fine, I just think Marc had a lot to drink last night, that’s all.”

Your eyes widen. Right.

You pull your hands back from where they'd settled on the table, abandoned by Steven’s touch, and rest them in your lap. Fidgeting nervously, you shift your focus to the neglected napkins at the edge of the table next to Steven, eager to avoid his gaze as his alter is suddenly brought up.

“Well…you should tell him to not drink so much when you have work in the morning…”

You can tell that Steven noticed how you retracted from the conversation as soon as you heard Marc’s name, but he doesn’t bring attention to it. He just chuckles nervously in response. 

“I’ll try…” 

The two of you remain silent for a moment. The comforting energy that was once fuelled by your friendship feels distant now, overshadowed by the tense anticipation of the inevitable confrontation. 

He takes a breath before breaking the silence, “Love…I have a question.”

“Okay.” You bite at your bottom lip nervously. 

Here it comes.

“Are we still up for movie night this week?” A weak smile cracks from the seam of his lips as his eyes find yours again. 

…Or not

You immediately cover up whatever anxious energy you are sure you were overflowing with – putting on your usual smile, the one made just for him. The one that always makes him feel at ease. 

“O-of course, Steven. I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Oh, okay, good.” 

–

After confirming your plans, Steven went on to ramble about the movies and shows he wants to watch with you.

Of course, he’s already seen each one at least two or three times, but he enjoys watching them with you – seeing your reactions, answering your questions, telling you fun facts… 

You can’t keep up with the conversation.

Your mind is running in circles, anxious about returning to the crime scene and possibly seeing him again. You’re not ready for that confrontation yet. 

You left the cafe feeling worse than when you arrived. 

How are you supposed to keep going on like everything is okay? 

Like your world hasn’t been turned upside down?

—

The warmth of Steven’s flat is comforting. You swear it was designed to be homey – which is why you never understood why Marc always looked so tense in here. The low hum of the kettle on the stove, the faint smell of old books and tea—it’s familiar. Safe. 

But not tonight.

You’re curled up on his worn couch, clutching a fluffy blanket tighter than necessary, trying to focus on the show playing in front of you. You can barely register the actors on screen. Your pulse thrums loudly in your ears, drowning out every word of dialogue.

Steven ended up choosing Sherlock because “each episode is 90 minutes – basically the length of a movie – so we’ll have at least a month of movie nights figured out!” You can tell he has a big fat man-crush on Cumberbatch’s Sherlock…just look at the way his eyes sparkle brightly when Holmes starts deducing – but you don’t say anything. You’re too anxious to tease him tonight. 

Steven sits beside you, a careful amount of space between you. He’s been quiet, unusually so, eyes flickering between you and the TV. You can feel it every time his gaze lingers—soft, curious, hesitant.

Sure, you’re used to this back and forth habit he has when you come over, but usually he’d be chiming in throughout the movie or show with a “you see that?” or “did you know that [insert actor here] was actually [insert fun fact here] during filming?” 

Tonight he’s barely made a peep. 

It’s freaking you out. 

And then, halfway through the episode, you feel it.

The slight shift of the cushions – Steven trying to scoot closer. 

Not boldly, just inching forward like someone dipping a toe into cold water. Your breath catches in your throat. His knee barely grazes yours, and it feels like a shockwave ripples through you.

Again, you’re used to his cuddly side. You’re supposed to be used to it. 

Used to the way he’d lean against you, his head on your shoulder as you both read books in comforting silence. Used to the way he’d intertwine his fingers with yours during tense scenes in a movie, squeezing when the sound effects get too loud – though he’s seen the same scene a handful of times already and should know what to expect (he’s still a scaredy cat). Used to the way he’d let out those soft breaths when he’d fall asleep with his head in your lap, your fingers running through his perfectly messy hair. 

You were. 

But since his confession about Layla, it’s different. Since what happened between you and Marc, it’s different. 

You could hear an intake of breath, signaling that he wants to say something, but before he can get it out, the kettle whistles loudly. He gets up, a bit rattled by the sudden interruption, and tends to the tea. He doesn’t even pause the episode. He always pauses when he has to get up. 

Clearly, neither of you are focused on the show tonight

He comes back with two steaming cups – chamomile because “having caffeine after the sun goes down disrupts your circadian rhythm” – and he sets them on the coffee table in front of you. You’re surprised he can even find enough space for them because the table is usually – 

It’s clear… 

You didn’t even notice how uncluttered his flat is. 

You take a second to look around. There are still overflowing bookcases, excessive amounts of cuddly blankets and pillows, and a couple of mugs out, but otherwise, it’s neat. And that can only mean one thing: Marc is stressed out. 

The one time you’ve seen Marc during the day, by accident and before you really knew him, he’d been grumpily cleaning the flat. 

You could tell that something more was happening behind the scenes, something other than frustration towards his alter for attempting to read 5 books at once, then falling asleep at his desk before being able to put them away. He was antsy, muttering to himself as he meticulously organized the bookshelves by author and subject. 

You assumed it had something to do with his strained relationship with Khonshu, but you didn’t ask. Steven had warned you against mentioning anything Khonshu-related in front of his alter in the past and you heeded to it. Instead, you left the bag of takeout on the kitchen counter and quietly slipped out.

Unfortunately, you’re aware of what’s stressing him out this time. 

“Do you like the show so far?” 

You’re immediately pulled from your thoughts. Steven is back in his seat with his hands cradling his mug for warmth. He’s noticeably further away from you than before. 

“Yeah, I actually can’t believe I haven’t seen it yet.” Your voice is soft as you lean forward for your drink. You take a sip.

You must have been lost in your thoughts for a while as the tea had cooled enough for you to easily drink it. You look down at the tea bag sitting at the bottom of the cup, unsure what to say next. 

You hear Steven sigh before the TV is shut off. Whatever Sherlock was monologuing about is cut off, replaced with the quiet buzzing of the A/C. You look up to be met with an equally hesitant gaze. 

He situates himself on the couch so he’s facing you more directly.

“Steven…?”

“Are you okay?” He finally says, “Because you’ve been distracted all night – Haven’t even said anything about the show, or asked for snacks, or sit in the way you usually do when you use me like a footrest…”

“Um, no, I’m fine.” You dismiss his worries and place your mug back on the table, hoping he’d just drop the subject. “I’m just tired, you know? Had a long day at work is all.” 

“I know that’s not it.”

You turn away from him just to stare at the blank TV, “Yeah? And how would you know?” Your words sound harsh but your voice is soft and unstable. “Aren’t you too busy worrying about Layla?” You regret saying it as soon as it leaves your mouth. You don’t know what drove you to say it, but something about him trying to care is frustrating you. 

“W-what, this has nothing to do with her.” He places a hand on your shoulder to get you to look at him. It works. You hate how the warmth from his hand can instantly calm you and have you itching for his touch. “Look,” He looks at you with guilty eyes before letting it all out, “I know that you and Marc kissed.” 

The warmth between you instantly disappears.

You freeze. 

Your mind races with excuses, stupid ones, and straight lies, but they’re all stuck in your throat – you can’t say anything. 

Steven continues to speak, “I just can’t help but wonder…” He pauses briefly and you watch him roll the words through his mind before taking your hands in his. He squeezes them like he does when he’s watching a thriller movie and it gets too intense – “...were you thinking of me when it happened?”

If you were shocked before, now you’re floored. 

---

author's note:

like I said with the last chapter, i'll have a chapter half written out and left in my google drive until I finally, painstakingly, finish it. 😭

i really want to write a lot and have it out for you guys immediately, but i'm simply not a writer so i can't do that. i don't ever have a plan for these chapters or the story as a whole so if it's messy just know: it's all me, baby :)

i genuinely could NOT write out the confrontation -- but how did you like the twist? or should i say the AUDACITY of steven 😼 (if you hate it, i am sorry 🙏 truly). the reason why i wrote out all of this was so you could get an idea of the dynamics around steven and the reader. i wanted to make some hints at your past friendship and how this situation has ruined it. i know this story is slow asf (and not just bc of my inconsistent posting) but i swear i want to see where it goes just as much as you guys do. unfortunately, i'm in charge of figuring it out.

sorry again for the delayed chapter. 👋 see you in a year i guess...

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ludos Imperiales II

Summary: Princess!Reader makes a deal with the Emperor to try and save her mates.

Content Warnings: Violence, Blood and Gore, Gladiator Tournament, Physical Abuse.

Part One

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

I can’t breathe. The world spins in dizzying swirls around me. Mates.

Not one.

Not two.

Three!

All of them enemies of the Empire. Rebels scheduled for execution. Fate has always been a cruel bastard in all matters concerning me, but this feels like a personal attack on my existence. Someone in the Celestial Plain is laughing at this twisted attempt of a joke. How could I be so close to happiness and be forced to sit here and watch it be ripped from me one blood splatter at a time?

The Game Maker starts speaking again, his voice booming across the arena. I can’t make out any of the words; they’re all muddled together in my ears. This cannot be happening to me! It’s not fair! I’ve been the perfect daughter, even when it shattered me; I was a model student; I’ve upheld the law to the very letter; I make weekly sacrifices to the Mother; I built my own lararium to offer nightly prayers to the gods. I have been devought and loyal to both the gods and the Empire and this is the thanks I get?

I can’t tear my eyes away from where the three of them stand in the center of the Pit, waiting for the gates to open again. The violet eyed one, Rhysand-- gods even his name is pretty--won’t stop staring at my Father, challenging him to speak, to fight, to do something other than sit there like a coward while someone else kills for him. 

My Father must understand the challenge in that gaze, because he finally stands and goes to the edge of the booth, weathered hands splayed out against the worn stones bearing a flag with his crest embroidered upon it. “Citizens of the Empire!”

The crowd gives a raucous shout.

I simply scoot a little closer to Brannagh to be able to see around Father.

My movements do not break the silent battle happening with Rhysand, but it does draw the eye of Azriel, who’s bloodied head tilts to the side quizzically as he takes me in. I feel a blush creep its way up my cheeks, the booth suddenly too hot as I try to meet his gaze. That hazel gaze bears an intensity that keeps me in place, but I cannot help but feel like I’ve been stripped bare, as if he can see straight into my chest, where my heart still pounds an uneven beat. 

“Before you stands that which threatens our peace, our security, and most importantly the prosperity that our people hold so dear.”

The tall one, Cassian frowns at that, but Rhysand grins, as if he has won whatever silent battle he’s been having with my Father. He tips his head back and bellows, so that not a single soul here misses it, “There is no prosperity or peace in the Empire! There is only enslavement and death!”

The boos that had started coming from the crowd die, as if someone had collectively cut off their air supply. 

The muscles in my Father’s back tighten as he realizes what is happening.

“Outside these walls we all starve! Supplies to every corner of the Empire have dwindled to single bags of grain, meant only to feed the soldiers that terrorize us in every corner of the world. You do not hear from your families in the far reaches because your mail is censored. Your loved ones have been dragged from their beds and crucified without trial. The only prosperity in this Empire is for Hybern himself.”

I finally tear my gaze away from Azriel’s silent study to look at Amarantha for confirmation that it is true. 

“You should have slit his throat on the battlefield,” Dagdan snarls in her direction. 

The power seeping from my fingers tears a hole through my skirts, singing across my thighs. The errant strand only hidden by the way I keep the fabric bunched in my hands. I do not allow myself to wince against the sting and give myself away.

“Those were not my orders!” Amarantha snarls, her teeth flashing as she stands. Her slaves jump out of her way, cowering against each other for safety. “Your Highness, silence him before he incites a riot!”

No! No! No! This can’t be happening to me! Not again. It is like watching my Mother be taken away all over again. I had just stood there. Unable to cry or scream or fight. I could only watch. That was what she trained me to do. She had even nodded her approval to my stillness as they’d dragged her away, as if it had been right. None of it was right. None of this was right!

“Your Master will tell you pretty stories but we are all his slaves in the end. Illyria has had enough! We will not sit by and let our women and children starve! If that makes us rebels and traitors to the crown, so be it! But what would you do if it was your children in the streets? Your wives being carted off to service foreign elites? Your sons forced to kill and die for an Empire that can’t even feed you?” Rhysand screams.

My Father, silently, motions to one of his Praetorians, a crossbow already swinging from the clip at his back. 

The pounding of my heart in my ears will swallow me. Everything in the world slows and narrows into the motion of an arrow being fit into the crossbow.

Move! Move! Move! A dark ether of my power slithers up my wrists, catching Brannagh’s attention. She must make some snide remark about it, because I, distantly, see her lips move but no sound ever reaches my ears. I have to stop this. I have to do something!

I’m on my feet without conscious thought of what I’m doing. “Father, wait!” My hands reach for him, the sizzle of pain as my power skitters across his skin enough to make him turn and face me. I don’t know what I’m doing, or what I’m saying, the words spew as if they have a mind of their own.

“If you kill him now like this you will incite a riot!”

His face twists, a snarl slipping past his clenched teeth. I have royally pissed him off, disgraced him here in front of his Inner Circle, where they watch from nearby booths. The thought would usually send me cowering like a dog with its tail between its legs, but the fear I feel for him is nothing against the fear I feel for them. The thing that links our souls together burns and rattles beneath my rib cage, needing to defend, to fight.

“Call off your guard!” I hiss, reaching out a hand and letting that dark power that lives inside me show. I’ll strike him dead if he so much as moves a finger towards the trigger. “Let us be diplomatic about this.”

“Who are you,” Father snarls, taking an advancing step towards me. The booth shakes as his own dark power rises to meet mine. “To challenge me, child?!”

I hold my ground, even though my body trembles. It is only the dutiful teachings of my Mother that keep my chin up instead of bowing it to my chest as every muscle screams for me to do. “I am not challenging you, I am trying to think about our people.”

I clench my fists again, dimming my power in feigned submission. “Go about this a different way. Show the people that ruthlessness is not always the answer to our nation’s problems.”

“Are you suggesting I spare an enemy?” Father snarls.

I honestly don’t know what my plan is here. I’m just throwing things against the wall and hoping something, anything, sticks, otherwise my only option is to fling myself down into the Pit and hope the power thrumming in my veins is enough to save my mates.

“No,” if I am to keep all of our heads, I must be crafty. I must play the games my Father plays. My gaze flicks to where Amarantha’s slaves remain huddled together, a desperate thought forming in my head. My stomach turns at the mere idea, but if it can save them…?

“You mean to entertain the people and quell all possible chances of further rebellion, but we have seen time and time again that no execution or crucifixion has done that. We merely make martyr after martyr. We encourage others to take up the cause.”

“Let them fight,” I’m going to be sick! It feels like there’s a knot forming in my chest. “And if they survive, let them live, let them be gladiators.” It’s unthinkable, it puts them in danger time and time again. “The betting will be astronomical. The people will return time and time again in hopes of seeing them fall. That money can provide support to the edges of the Empire. Prove him wrong by sending extra aid to those outside our walls.”

To his credit, my Father does listen to me ramble. The Mother has smiled on me for once, if he had been in one of his fits today he would have had Amarantha kill me where I stood. It is a miracle the Praetorian didn’t take me out for wielding so close to him in the first place.

 “And you would have them what? Live in the slave quarters where they can incite a riot with all the dregs?” Amarantha hisses.

I’ll lose him if I let her forked tongue keep whispering in his ear. I am not blind, I know that she has more favor with him than I ever have. “No. Leaving them free to whisper with the other gladiators would be a mistake. Let someone claim responsibility for them.” 

The plan forms in my mind as I speak. I don’t like it. I’m not sure that it’ll even work, but I have to try and save them. I cannot let them die while I stand here uselessly watching as I did with my Mother. I will never be useless or silent again. “Give them to me.”

Brannagh chokes on her wine behind me.

Amarantha’s jaw actually drops in shock.

“I will take responsibility for them. They will be monitored by my guard. To our people it will look  like you mean to humiliate three great warriors, by shackling them to me. It is no secret what our people think of me.”

Dagdan’s snort is proof enough how weak I look in the eyes of our people. I am nothing but a sheltered, pampered princess to them. Up until today they didn’t even know that I’d inherited my Father’s powers. Good, let them all think me weak and useless and meek, they will never know the claws and fangs that hide beneath my skin until it is too late. Father included.

“She is not strong enough to keep them in check,” Amarantha hisses. “If you are to do it, give them to me.”

I barely reign in my powers, barely keep my teeth behind my lips. They are mine and I will be damned before I let her put her grubby little paws on them! 

“You may monitor them as often or as random as you wish, Father,” I speak over her instead, fighting to keep his attention. “I will move back into the Palace. I will sit in every meeting. I…” There is one sure thing that will guarantee his approval of this awful plan of mine. “I will marry whoever you choose for me.”

His dark brows raise in surprise. “And what would prompt this sudden loyalty to me, child?”

I raise my chin. “I have sat too long in the dark, and I could not see it until…” I have already bartered my soul, what will some more empty words mean in the end? “I could not see it until you removed that traitor and her poisoned tongue from the house. I see it now. I have failed our people and I mean to make it right.”

He flicks his gaze over his shoulder, down into the Pit. “The gorsian stone should keep Rhysand in line. And with enough guards, you might be able to keep them locked up. If they should survive the fight.”

“Sometimes death is a mercy,” I say, the words tasting like bile. 

He takes a step closer, so we’re nearly nose to nose. “And if you fail to keep them in line, it will be you that dies in this arena, do you understand?”

Better me than them. 

“You cannot be serious, Your Highness!” Amarantha squeaks, her voice shrill.

I nod, trying not to gloat in my victory over her. “I understand.”

Father grins, pleased with himself as he snags my hand and brings me back into view of the arena. “Please forgive the delay, the Princess and I were just discussing what our guests had to say about the state of our Empire.”

I feel three sets of eyes settle on me like a brand. The bond, still so new and raw in my chest, feels like chains rattling against my ribcage. I cannot tell if it is their anxiety or my own. 

“Let it be known that this Empire is a democracy, and that I, as your Emperor, care about the state of affairs that all of our people live in.”

 I try to meet the gaze of the senators and highly decorated soldiers sitting in the booths that line the upper ring of the arena. These will be the most upset by the news. The next ring of wealthy merchants and shopkeepers, tradesmen and fleet keeps will be the ones that take what they hear here back to the streets. Word will spread. The people will know what happened here, how the Emperor suddenly decided to care about them. It will be a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

I try to not look down at the Pit; try not to think about the life I’m condemning them to. 

“Our beloved Princess is very concerned about your well-being,” Father continues and there’s a collective cheer from the lower levels. “And so, we have decided not to execute these rebels today.”

The tone immediately shifts to one of confusion.

“They will compete as gladiators. Should they prove resourceful enough to survive, they will be branded as gladiators, and sponsored by our Princess.” Great, not only do they have to survive the damned arena, they have to survive any threats from other gladiators who will seek to take out well-sponsored competition. 

Even from our vantage point I hear Cassian curse in disbelief. 

“She has so graciously decided that all their winnings will be sent to any hurting corners of the Empire, should there be any to be found.”

The crowd takes a moment to process what he says. It even takes me a minute to comprehend the last part. He’d really send all the money that I’d earn as their sponsor to the poor? That’s a hefty bit of charity, even for him. There has to be some sort of catch?

“So, let these males fight! Let’s see how far they are willing to go for their people.”

There it is. They could choose to sit down and die in the arena, making themselves martyrs as Amarantha thinks they intended, and then, instead, they would look like they were not willing to make sacrifices for their people. If they fought, competed for whatever earnings were bet on them, then they would be heroes. A symbol of strength only the great Emperor Hybern could make. Father really is the best at these political games.

The crowd roars as trumpets blow three times.

Father motions me back to our seats.

“You don’t really think they can win, do you, cousin?” Dagdan questions.

The ground shakes as a giant strolls out of the tunnels. The creature is so large he has to bend over nearly double to fit. When he stands to his full height, his bald head is practically even with the edge of our booth. Terrible scars crisscross over his body like spiderwebs. Hybern went to war first with the land of Giants, the war had lasted decades. My Grandfather had taken many giants as slaves and forced them to kill each other in this arena. Some gladiators were able to earn their freedom, but the devastation that the Giants had wrought on our people made my Grandfather declare that no Giant could ever be made free. The poor creature had probably been chained here, fighting in the Pit long before I was even born.

“They survived Amarantha,” I retort.

The General bristles. “I thought you didn’t place bets on the first day?”

I reach for another glass of wine, trying to settle my nerves. “There’s a first time for everything.” Perhaps making an enemy out of her is unwise, but the bond chafes against my ribcage at the thought of her being anywhere near any of them. Better to keep her attention on me than on them. 

Another horn blows, prompting the giant to move and I hold my breath as he reaches a meaty hand down to grab one of the Illyrians. The males scatter, Cassian going into a roll between the Giant’s legs, using the blind spot to his advantage while Rhysand drags Azriel out of the way with an arm around his waist. He’s practically carrying Azriel now, who’s broken wings seem to be getting heavier by the minute. 

Cassian roars as he stretches out a hand, a wave of red tinted energy blasting from his palm. The arch or power slams into the Giant’s calf, blasting away a chunk of skin and muscle, splattering blood across the nearest wall. 

The Giant roars as he falls to one knee.

Cassian sprints behind him, out of reach of the hand that comes sweeping down at him. This time, he’s the distraction as Rhysand uses the hand not holding Azriel upright to unleash a blast of dark, obsidian power. 

My own magic flares in response. It is a darkness so like my own, the sight of it a siren call that has me leaning forward in my seat. If he can unleash a blast powerful enough to leave a gash across the Giant’s bare chest with those gorsian chains around his neck, how much damage can he do without it?

The Giant’s cries of pain echo throughout the amphitheater; using the distraction, Cassian continues to blast away at it’s leg while Rhys throws blow after blow at it’s chest. They fair far better than I anticipated they would, but I know better than to let hope get the better of me. It is far too easily ripped away in this arena. 

As if on cue, the gates open again and a pack of wargs come sprinting into the arena.

The crowd erupts in cheers, and my heart once again thunders in my chest. What have I done? It takes all my training to not start chewing on my thumbnail. How am I supposed to save them from this?

Amarantha claps gleefully as one of the wargs breaks away from the pack to lunge straight for Azriel’s throat. 

No! No! No- Azriel raises a scarred hand to blast the beast backward with a wave of blue tinted magic. There isn’t enough time to sigh in relief, not as the rest of the pack splits in two, one circling Rhysand and Azriel, the other taking a shot at the Giant. Those rows of razor sharp and needle thin teeth sink into the Giant’s already bleeding leg, momentarily distracting it as it swings wildly around the arena, arms pinwheeling as it fights to balance on one leg while the other flails in an attempt to shake the beasts off. 

“They’re not supposed to attack the Giant!” Brannagh whines. 

I gulp down my wine, hoping it will push the wave of nausea that rolls through me down. I’ve signed their death warrants. I’ve gotten my mates killed. 

Cassian, in the chaos, has managed to find half of a spear, the blade rusted from the recent rain, but he hurls it with acute precision nonetheless, piercing through the oddly shaped skull of a warg snapping at Azriel’s wings. 

Rhysand and Azriel have moved to stand back to back, their varying shades of magic weaving between their fingers as they prepare to strike the snapping beasts that circle them. 

The Giant topples over as the three wargs held tight to it’s wounded calf find a nerve. There’s not enough room in the arena to let him fall without incident. The poor creature topples right into the wall opposite us, knocking away a section of stone and nearly dragging a Senator and his mistress into the Pit.

The Praetorians launch from our booth to aid the screaming couple.

It might have been funny under different circumstances, but I cannot peel my eyes away from my mates as the blast beast after beast away with their magic. Even wounded, even stunted by the chains, they are the most powerful wielders I’ve ever seen. Even if Cassian’s and Azriel’s magic sprays with less precision than usual without the siphons Illyrians are known for, every blow is calculated. They do not miss. Warg after warg falls, their leathery skin blistered or blasted away from multiple blows. Even wounded, the males remain in perfect sync, filling in any gaps the other might lack. They manage to kill five of the eight beasts, the other three still mercilessly tearing through the Giant’s leg, even as the guards try to push him off the wall.

Brannagh laughs at the tears that fall from the Giant’s eyes as he swats uselessly at the beasts. No matter how many times his massive fists slams against them, they will not let go. His blood runs like a river through the center of the Pit.

Many of the crowd laugh too.

These are my people? This is what I am to inherit? This misery and suffering and apathy towards the suffering of others? We are monsters!

As soon as I can get my mates out of this godsforsaken Pit, I will find a way to get them far, far away from this place, where it can never hurt them again. And then, when I know they are safe, I will make sure that this place burns.

Rhysand seems to take pity on his opponent, as he steps away from Azriel’s back to blast one of the remaining wargs off the Giant’s calf. From the distance across the arena, the blow is not a killing one, and aggravated, the warg turns its attack to Rhysand.

My breath hitches in my throat as he lowers himself into a crouch, hands splaying in the damp earth. There is a sword a couple feet from him, if he runs, he might make it there first. But he doesn’t run, he waits until the beast gets close before hurling dust in it’s eyes. While it’s distracted, a rope of star studded magic unfurls from his palm and wraps around the beast’s throat. Instead of killing it, he hurls it back at the others, knocking all of them free from the Giant’s leg.

The crowd boos.

My heart clenches in my chest. He could have let them end this fight now, could have let those beasts tear clean through the Giant’s leg and won by default, but he didn’t. He chose to fight fair, to do the dirty work himself.

The three beasts turn on him as he sprints for the sword. There’s just enough time for him to get a firm grip on the hilt before the first lunges, its claws tearing through his forearm as he fights to get the angle he needs to win. Blood splatters, those handsome features twisting in pain as he adjusts his stance. Cassian runs towards him, but he won’t make it in time. 

There’s no more wine to distract me, I’ve fully bitten through my lip now. Please if there are any gods left to hear me, don’t let him die here!

Rhysand moves with the grace of a well-practiced swordsman, each step flowing into the next like a dance as he cleaves through one beast's head, and severs the paw of a second. In mere seconds, he manages to dispatch the rest, leaving the mangled bodies at his feet. His chest heaves as he fights to catch his breath and under different circumstances I might have been too distracted by his beauty to notice the Giant move. 

Rhysand might have been the better male, but that didn’t save him from the Giant’s hand as it swatted him across the battlefield like he was a pesky fly. I bite deeper through my lip to keep back a scream as his body bounces across the muddy floor until he meets a wall. 

Cassian and Azriel roar in outrage and the tether that sits in my chest rattles so hard against my rib cage I think it might rip right out of me. This can’t be happening!

The Giant rises on shaking legs, then falls back onto its knees, using its meaty fists to bash against the arena floor, in what looks like the world’s deadliest game of Whack-A-Mole. Red and blue magic flashes across the arena as the Illyrian’s throw blow after blow, leaving bleeding gashes in the Giant’s fist. Across the arena, Rhysand rolls onto his back, forehead covered in blood as he struggles to get upright. He’s alive at least. Barely. But alive.

I vow to the Mother and any other god that can hear me that if they survive the fight I will find somewhere safe for them. I will do whatever it takes to keep them out of this arena for good. 

“They are persistent, I’ll give them that,” Dagdan muses. 

I feel rather than see my Father’s frown as he takes in all the chaos with the experience of a seasoned strategist. I know that he is calculating their odds, mapping out every possible outcome. I wonder if Cassian launching into the air, wings beating so hard to get him airborne that I feel a gust of hot air on my face, was part of his calculations? If he could have foreseen the blast of energy Cassian’s hurls into the Giant’s eyes, blinding him?

The Giant abandons his attempts at smashing them to grab at his eyes, large hands clawing at his sizzling flesh. The whole arena can smell burnt skin, but Cassian doesn’t let up, he aims blow after blow at the Giant’s head, until he finally falls over backwards, neck slamming hard against the already broken stone.

I look away, stomach in my throat as the resounding crack fills the amphitheater. 

The crowd roars in disbelief as Cassian tucks in his wings and descends back into the Pit. He hits the ground running, footfalls heavy in the mud as he rushes to Rhysand’s side. Azriel is not far behind him. With their combined strength, they manage to get Rhysand back on his feet. 

I pinch myself to make sure I’m awake. They’re alive!

Father stands and makes his way to the edge of the booth again. “For whatever reason, the Goddess has smiled upon you three today! Today, you will live. Let us hope you remain in Her favor.” He doesn’t sound super thrilled by the prospect as he turns his back to the crowd, slate gray eyes pinched as they fall to me.

“Walk with me.”

I stand, trying to keep my singed skirts in my hands so he cannot see the damage I’d done. Or the blood from my palms. If he suspects I was at all nervous for the outcome, I could ruin everything. I must keep my composure.

And not run down the stairs to the gates and throw myself at my mates like every fiber of my being screams at me to do. 

The guards follow as we exit the booth. In moments there will be chaos as beings scatter to find the Games Keepers and collect their winnings, or pay their debts, but for a moment, the crowd lingers in their seats, watching as the Illyrians are led out of the Pit.

“You embarrassed us today,” he hisses once we’re out of Amarantha’s earshot. The anger in his tone is enough to make me try and take a step away from him, but he throws an arm around my shoulders to keep me against his side. To any onlookers, we are just father and daughter having a chat. His voice is low enough that no one will hear the threats he hisses in my ear.

“You hide away in the River House for months, mourning a traitor who was plotting to overthrow me and now you make a spectacle of yourself! I should have you cast out into the streets!”

My only way out is to placate him. “I am sorry, Father.”

“Sorry,” he snarls, fingers digging tight enough into my shoulder to bruise. “Your apologies mean nothing! I swear, if you do not do everything you promised to do today, I will throw you into this arena! And I will use your own advice to keep you alive long enough to ensure you have a couple matches to prolong your suffering.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I meant what I said, Father.” Mostly. Perhaps I can secure passage for all of us out of here and we never have to think about the Empire again. The more I think about it, the more pleased I am with the idea. Yes, I just need to make it look like I am taking them as slaves, and once we’re out from the watchful eye of my Father, we can all run far, far away. Maybe I am more clever than I thought.

He leads us down the steps to a door that will eventually lead us to the gladiator cages and a guard swings open the heavy iron for us. Once we’re out from under the eye of the people, the rough stone walls closing in tight--a means to ensure none of the larger gladiators can make a run for the door and escape--he releases his grip on me. 

Torches line the walls casting his face in near shadow as he pauses at the bottom of a second, smaller, set of stairs. I shiver despite myself as the door slams shut, sealing me in. I suppose at this point I should be prepared, but I’m not, and when his open hand slams across my cheek I lose my balance and slip down the last two steps of the staircase. 

“Don’t ever question me again!” He hisses.

The guards pretend to not notice, as they always have.

I grit my teeth against the ringing in my ears, against the hot tears that threaten to escape me, focusing instead on carefully getting back on my feet. Stay down too long he’ll kick in my ribs like he used to when I was a child. Get up too fast and he’ll assume he hadn’t hit me hard enough. I put over emphasis into finding a handhold in the wall, making sure I keep my stinging cheek against my shoulder. The tremor in my hands is not feigned fear, I’ve been terrified of him my entire life, but I do exaggerate it just as my Mother taught me. 

“Spoiled brat!” He grumbles as he stalks forward into the tunnel. “I coddled you too much.”

I glare at his back once I’m sure he’s no longer looking at me. I hate him! I’ve hated him my entire fucking life. He’s ruined everything. Taken everything from me. Everything I’d ever loved he’d wiped off the face of the earth, all because I had the misfortune of being a female. All because he couldn’t have a precious son.

I grit my teeth so hard they hurt as I brush my skirts off and follow after him. I will be glad when I am finally out of his sight. Far, far away from this stupid Empire. At least I have mates; someone out in this Mother forsaken world who will care about me; who won’t hate me just for existing. At least there is one thing he can’t ruin for me.

I am too distracted with my thoughts to note the paths we take. I distantly hear the sound of injured men groaning, catch a whiff of filth and animal waste, but it’s all a blur. This will all be a bad dream soon. Soon I will have my mates and I will never have to deal with him again. I can be happy. I will be happy.

By the time he finally stops walking, I’ve schooled my features into a perfect mask; have brushed a few loose strands of hair in front of my face to hide the red mark across my cheek. He will suspect nothing until it is too late. Then he can have his precious Empire. It will be the only thing left he can control.

A guard opens what looks like a cage door, the iron old and rusted, and the guards that have been trailing behind us step in first.

“Against the wall!” They bark. 

There’s no light in the cell, just the flickering of the torch on the wall behind us. I don’t know what to expect.

“Fuck you, Imperial Pig!” Cassian.

I bite my tongue to keep back the grin that threatens to escape me, my mask slipping. He’s not so hurt that he can’t put up a fight. The thought warms something in my chest. Headstrong, stubborn, if the sound of scuffling coming from inside the dark cell is anything to go by, and sarcastic--everything I need to counter my reserved nature. I need that energy. I need him. The surety of that makes me square my shoulders. 

“Easy, Cass.” Rhysand. His voice is smooth as silk, even if the words are a little slurred. “We don’t want trouble.”

“The fuck we don’t!” Cassian shouts. “I’m no one’s fucking pet!”

The guard at the door, once sure the others inside are secure, steps away to grab the torch off its perch in the hallway, and sets it into an old rung on the inside of the cell, bathing the room in its soft glow. 

Father steps in first.

For a moment, I hesitate, heart in my throat. I need them. I need that strength I saw in the arena. Need that fire Cassian spews. The surety that Rhysand carries himself with. I need them. And if I show any sign of that, they're dead.

The guard, now back at the door, eyes me quizzically.

I draw a shaky breath and school my features back into a perfectly bored mask. 

I can do this.

I will do this.

I won’t let Hybern take anything else from me, no matter the games I have to play. 

I tell it to myself over and over as I step into the cell.

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

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe, @krowiathemythologynerd,

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! =)

[dereks-unrelenting-heart]

Okay, I finally got to watch today's video, so here's the not-quite-live commentary/chaotic highlights post I promised about it :)

Not entirely video related, but I love that as usual, I see a bunch of people in the comments saying "Woah I never knew AJ stood for Alexander Jeremy" while I'm here like. I don't think I've ever heard any of them refer to Tom as Thomas before this intro. Do they normally introduce him that way and I just never noticed or-?

Eve is an icon, love the vibes going from "oh fuck" in response to "what is your name?" to her pulling a "your mum" on Sam. Got her confidence back real quick there

Not to mention the fact they actually used 'your mum' as the stimulus-

"My mum is lovely" *5 seconds later* "You ring the bell, I don't want to" Something is telling me her mom isn't that lovely

AJ saying the name Martha, trying to figure out who it would make sense for Martha to be, and then giving up by saying his character panicked. Love it

"She's a massive *bleep*" Censors aren't allowing me to hear Tom say 'bitch' and I won't stand for it

I saw a comment say it as a joke, but it really was funny how Sam kept saying change until Luke made them a straight couple (calling Tom's character 'Suzanne') lmao

Darren: "Listen, I'm gonna win her over, okay?" Suzanne, about to sob: "yeah-?"

The whole coming onto Suzanne's mom bit was gold "He's coming onto me" "Sorry I'm panicking" "Why am I coming onto my mom??" "You're panicking!"

"I wish I had his muscles.." "Oh you'll catch up with me, don't worry" Tom you're so fucking funny-

The slight hesitation from Luke at the 'men' suggestion, followed by all of the other three being like "Fuck yeah, let's complain about men" is so good and lowkey reminds me of Tom's vs everyone else's reaction to the Evil-Make-A-Wish-Kid title

"Because you have one thing on your mind" "Yeahhh" "Podcasts" "🤨"

"Take 2 steps towards your progress" is the new "Today embarks on change"

Legendary Letters/Time Warp crossover we didn't know we needed

Words can't describe how much I expected and wanted the last line to be "Now you are our bitch" goddamnit-

Sam entering the scene, eating a large block of cheese while moaning, and waiting for another character to interrupt him, only for AJ to fuck it up immediately upon doing so, this is what we love to see

Something about Sam going "I love cheese :D" makes me very happy

"No one wants me to say" He's right, I absolutely do not want him to say what's so different, not while knowing SFTH's history with dairy products

I know everyone's been saying this, but yeah Sydney is definitely cosplaying as Sam in this video and I respect that

Luke's character quickly becoming problematic throughout Pillars is great. First he's unfaithful, then he's saying 'gay people' and 'the t-word', and by the end he apparently represents all of the world's problems smh

"I'll just sign this myself and do it in your writing" Heathers: father's will edition

Speaking of him, are we gonna acknowledge that he's trans-? "When I gave birth to you, do you know what I said to your mother?" Because none of the guys mentioned it, which is unlike them

"Daddy, I just want a fucking hug!" The first uncensored 'fuck' in the video!

Tom describing AJ's Tindr profile while AJ tells him to shut the fuck up-

"Sorry Mum!" a necessary apology from Sam, although at this point in his career I feel like it has a lot of ground to cover-

Thought for a second we were gonna get another one of Sam's iconic animal characters. But instead we got a surprise Henry VIII reference??

All in all, good shit as always, though the censorship did throw me off, idk what that's about-

[undead-cypress]

A few metaphor doodles and screenshots I either forgor or didn't think was worth separate posts. Also some language notes at the end

(the formatting of this post keeps getting screwy, bear with me for a sec)

Probably the first doodle back when I just started the game and the MP resource management was DIRE. Baby needs drugs

Started new game plus, but in Japanese so I can enjoy the puns. There's a few things that are specific to Japanese, like specific visual puns, formal/informal speech and honorifics that are untransferable but not much can be done about that. The English localisation is honestly spectacular. I'll put in a few notes about it after the read more below.

I'm also noticing a lot more little details, like the lines on that pillar is Maria's height chart - the letter that looks like n written on the pillar corresponds to M on the cipher they released with the OST

There are two mice at the inn at the beginning of the game even though I remember there being four by the end. Is it because Maria sees us as family at the end 🥺

Ok on the 2D sprite it's not as obvious but I'm just noticing on the 3D model that the lines under his eyes are eye bags. Are you doing ok buddy

Also, the ppl hunched over in the streets have fully modeled faces

POV: You're a Sanctist guard at the opera house who just watched your mage buddy get beaten to death by teenagers with sticks

Major spoilers below

9/24 lmao

And the two screens that sent me into hysterics at the endgame. Convenient censor bar will ALWAYS be funny

Notes so far on NG+ in Japanese (as of rn, just finished the Regalith Cathedral dungeon):

- Gallica kind of speaks like a kindly babysitter coaxing a child into doing their first tasks. Which is kind of exactly what she is. I've described it to people before as kind of like a children's TV show host? She uses "atchi", which is what really young girls use, or adult women mirroring young girls in children's TV shows use. Since she doesn't otherwise talk like a young girl and uses pretty complex vocabulary, it's much more of a kindergarten teacher vibe.

- Strohl has wildly swinging speech styles towards people he's casual with (Will, Maria, Fabienne), people he respects (exactly one person, Grius), and people he doesn't respect (literally everyone else). It's almost jarring how aggro he is in Japanese, because it just comes off as catty in English. Especially in the beginning when they're in a military setting, imagine if he just added "shithead" after every time he said the word "you" to everyone that's not Will and Grius. He also swears a lot. Like, a lot. Maybe I just didn't notice the first time because while "damn" and "bloody hell" are teeeechnically swears in English they don't register to me. Let Strohl say fuck!

- Grius sounds much more curt and reticent, less expressive.

- flashback Will and Prince doesn't have different accents, Will's voice is about half an octave higher than Prince

- Will has somehow avoided using "I" this whole time. Idk what personal pronouns they use. And unless I've somehow missed it, nobody has used a gendered third person pronoun for them either, everyone always just used the inputted name. Will also doesn't tend to speak in full sentences and trail in and out. Voice wise they sound pretty much exactly the same as in English. Incredible matching

- MORE USES BOKU. That threw me. I was expecting ware (hyperformal) or watashi (neutral). Boku is used by either young boys, or to show deference to someone of a higher age or social standing. More either thinks Will is older (impossible), of a higher social class (interesting), or he doesn't have a high self esteem (most likely).

- Hulkenberg has two modes: formal customer service mode, which is her out of battle mode. Even toned and gentle sounding, not really like English Hulkenberg at all. And then there's HYPERFORMAL BATTLE MODE where she swaps to using "waga" and sounds EXACTLY like English Hulkenberg. I suspect she'll be in this mode more and more as the game goes on. Her Jpn VA also does Yor Forger from Spy x Family, honestly that's perfect casting. Strongest baby guard of all time

- Zorba's voiced by Sugita (p5 yusuke, fe Chrom), so his voice is DEEP. No fun accents, but good evil cackling. Major win for the localization in this case because every English instance of an insult, be it "heathen", "vermin", "blaggard", "knave", "cur" etc was all just 貴様 (you, extremely derogatory) in Japanese. English Hulkenberg and Zorba gets real creative with it, but Strohl less even though he has probably used 貴様 the most out of anybody. They probably ran out of words he'd say after the first 18 times he used it.

- I'm not sure what title Louis has tbh because his followers just call him Louis-sama

- Louis sounds a bit more serious and less mocking but otherwise not much different in text.

- Rella sounded so much like Japanese Fuuka I looked it up and she IS! Welcome back 🤗

- some archetypes are named differently. Not really a big deal tbh. Warrior was Fighter, Mage was Magician, Brawler was Monk, etc. Mostly just to make them sound cooler in English.

- Another major win for the English localization is "horse drawn carnage" was originally just "horse strike".

- "peerless stonecleaver" though, was 断岩無双烈空斬 which, while it is literally what it means, has the vibes of what a kid thinks a cool anime sword move should be called. Idk how to articulate that better in English tbh

- The title for the lineage is written in Japanese kanji but the individual classes are in katakana, usually using loanwords, but even the Japanese titled classes like ninja and samurai are written with kana in classes.

Was also thinking that in English, everyone has British Isles accents except for Will and Gallica, and thinking maybe that was the in-universe Eldan accent? Until getting to the Sanctum and everyone there also had British Isles accents. Then you meet Agrica, who has the same accent. I must be forced to conclude: Will has a FAIRY accent.

I must also be forced to extrapolate: there exists countries outside of Euchronia with Australian, New Zealand, Newfie, Texan, Socal, Mid-Atlantic, Jersey, Cajun, etc, accents. That sounds so fun

[lesbiansforboromir]

Here's a more compact review of the War of the Rohirrim film for anyone interested! SPOILERS AHEAD!!

Positives;

The backgrounds were all very beautifully painted and the lighting really elevated the character design and smoothed over the janky animation. Where other aspects of the film fall off, often the background artistry and lighting over all of it still manages to convey a very dramatic and immersive moment to the viewer. It's probably the best part of the film.

The part where Helm's ice-ghost phase is teased was really cool and atmospheric and I got a little thrill of what I'd kind of always been wanting from this film.

Frealaf was pretty lovely (what little we got of him) and I appreciated that his darker skin tone was implicitely associated with his Gondorian heritage. I THINK I appreciate the idea that Frealaf's father was Gondorian, though I wish it had been better utilised.

I also really liked the moment where Helm is about to fight Freca and he gives his crown, signet ring and mantle over to Frealaf in this like... symbolic giving up of his Kingship in this moment where his actions are about to make him unworthy of it.

I appreciated Olwyn existing as an older female character in a purely action based roll.

Helm's voice actor and design were pretty cool, I came around to enjoying how much effort they put into making him extremely imposing.

Hama being a twink who was born to be a bard but forced to be a heroic second prince was a nice touch.

General Targg of Dunland might have been my favourite character, inspite of the fact that I am really curious to know where this organised military of Dunland is for him to reach the rank of 'General' in.

Negatives;

Gurl the racism. See here for more details.

The overall narrative seems to me direly lacking in like... basis. I am lead to believe Hera's journey is about her reclaiming her right to choose her own life for herself. But she is never actually pressured into any choice, nor does it appear that her father ever restricted her freedom in any way. So I don't really see where her choices were actually removed to such a degree. If her desire is to see her choices respected by the men in her life, well that never happens for either Helm nor Wulf, who force her to let them die or to kill them, respectively. It feels like in their rush to censor any negative aspects of Helm they kind of removed the reason Hera is frustrated in the first place, he cant be TOO much of a misogynist etc etc.

This is twisted up within 'gurl the racism' but Wulf's manner and presentation make me FEEL like he is a villain we are supposed to mildly feel for? We see him as a child, we see him struggle with what he's doing, we see his clear desperation and despair and hear him talk about loneliness and suffering... but at the end of the day in the way that it is presented Wulf is fundamentally foul and deluding himself and all his problems appear to be of his own making. In general it is extremely uncomfortable for the 'obsessive stalker' villain to also every now and then say 'I am devastated because of how my dunlending blood has been prejudiced against all my life by your family and the wider rohir society' like... by only him mentioning it but it never being actually acknowledged by anyone else it just comes across so shallow and unsettling.

This is a review from my book-biased perspective so understand it within that lense but still gurl... the lore. What the hell do you mean the eagles speak a language only a wizard can understand? No they can just speak! What do you mean there is A watcher in the water in some undisclosed lake in Rohan somewhere? There is one Watcher and it's name is very specific to the doomed Moria expedition! At least give this new squid fellow a rohir name. Speaking of!!

IS IT SO HARD TO NAME ROHIR CHARACTERS IN..... ROHIRRIC?? OLD ENGLISH IS RIGHT THERE... HERA HAS NO MEANING... THERE ARE SO MANY COOL HISTORICAL ANGLO SAXON PRINCESSES YOU COULD CHOOSE FROM...

Included in the 'gurl, the lore' segment but in need of it's own post so I will try to be brief; (Theoden voice) where was Gondor... when a herd of Mumakil were marched by Haradrim mercenaries across the Anduin, up through the Pelennor, across Calenadhon and over Rohan's southern border... did they sneak by... were they stealth Mumakil, did they have elven cloaks too.

But also Where Was Gondor just in general. Like to the detriment of the actual narrative, opening up plot holes that didn't even need to be there, the fact that Gondor is ALSO supposed to be at war right now is completely ignored and discarded.

THE BATTLE OF EDORAS... TF ARE YOU ALL DOING! Like I know it is kind of hypocritical of me to request sensible war tactics when we're adapting Tolkien, he did not give a good example, but like... where were the horse archers, why are you charging down an infantry-only army, why even be on a horse if you aren't going to use greater mobility to your advantage, this isn't a siege, this is YOUR territory this is an open field!! Come on! AND ANOTHER THING, did we really have to make the victory of the Dunlendings over Edoras so disconnected from their own effort? Like betrayal is fine, but this was also a well supplied and competant force, and that was a major part of their victory. These were matched combatants! Just kind of another way in which the dunlendings were robbed of any cohesive motive, narrative or skill.

To my admittedly untrained eye... the animation sucks? Like it's clunky and janky and you can see the frames transitioning between each other, the movements often feel awkward and a lot of the drawings are just bad! The Eagles are SO stiff, as are the horses which seems like a cardinal sin in the Horse Lord Film. And then I couple that with the multiple completely unnecessary spinning camera shots Hera gets which are annoying, superfluous and a bizarre thing to spend time on when the rest of the film needs so much more care and attention. In general the GULF of difference between how beautiful the backgrounds are vs how bland the character art is is kind of jarring.

Hera's design.... I hate it. Look I know it's anime but DID Hera have to have thigh high boots... did she really... Why is she so pale if she's supposedly riding sleeveless across the vast countryside everyday? Can a single supposedly feminist film about a 'wild' female protagonist let that woman be like... dirty, or not so agonisingly thin, or give her messy or god forbid short hair. At one point when she is grabbed by a troll and hung in the air they linger uncomfortably long on her ass which her costume design is specifically designed to allow for maximum viewing detail.

The designs of the Dunlendings, Haradrim and especially the Mumakil are all so grim. Like I liked Freca's design to a degree, it was more potent with symbolism and patterning and such, but the rest of it is just SO FUCKIN- well they're ugly! and therefore evil! Do you get it? The ugly grey animalistic people are evil! The Mumakil have literal red snake eyes just so you know they're 'evil animals'. I can't take it anymore, at one point the guy who Eomer throws a spear at in the trilogy just... turns up, like it's literally just him down to the facepaint. And speaking of...

SHUT UP ABOUT THE PJ TRILOGY, SHUT UP AB- besties this film's intro plays alongside the ring theme... THE RING MUSICAL THEME!!!!?? Lines from the films are reused so often and so WILDLY outside of their actual context and meaning that it makes me flinch.

There is a plump little fellow called Leif who is the royal Page I think and everytime someone called Freca fat in such a vitriolic way I was like wow... I mean Leif is right there guys!

Overall a 4/10 from me, it is a watcheable but shallow film that I suspect was more of a cynical attempt by Warner Bros to keep their death grip on the rights to the books, since I think they would have expired if they didn't do something with them soon.

[forsaken-headcanons]

Sigh well... Dry bones anon here, the alien headcanon have arrived again (I might make a character concept for Dry bones in Forsaken, might be fun) most will follow up from my previous Alien headcanon.

Trigger warning for swearing (even if its just once)

Alien chance (Coin) is very AND I MEAN VERY calm and collected, will rarely swear or rage...unless its GAMBLING™, the swear words are plentifull and Elliot now being an Alien that can understand said words well...he learned that the alien language bypasses the Roblox terms of service so the words said by Coin were really eye opening for Elliot (the purple in Elliot's name is because he's an Alien for now).

007n7 have himself every language in his brain aswell as the ability to bypass the Roblox censor, so when Elliot passed by him and spoke, every one was shocked when 007n7 replied with "DID YOU JUST CALL ME A LITTLE BITCH!?". Thats how everyone learned that 007n7 can speak to the aliens and that the "Alien" Elliot also hated 007n7 despite Coolkidd not greefing the Alien Pizza place.

Coin will sometime try to convice Elliot that maybe he was just an Alien raised on Roblox with memory loss but after making him cry and realizing that "wait, we're in a place where we die, respawn and come back, and Two Times can become a Robloxian pheonix or a Furry...maybe he's saying the truth" (this was translated to english) and since then has been trying helping him become a Robloxian again (without telling anyone for some reason, idiots the both of them)

This ask is getting long and I have a Dry bones concept to balance (and re-balance after I do it) and its kind of 11 pm, gotta love France not having any of my friends in it so I am never in they're stream or interacting with them without destroying my sleep schedule anyway goodnight

I love when people give the aliens lore.

[engiebabey]

I yearn for cg medic content

Please 🙏

:3

baby's first ask!!! every1 always focuses on medic's literal medical aspects of his traits, but i like to think of him as a soft little nerd so here's some hc i have !! (+ a little blurb at the end expanding on one of them)

warnings: mention of an autopsy, mentions of bones, use of "papa"

this is so long btw i got carried away

despite a lot of hcs i see that medic is a huge poor meow meow, i do actually think he is more on the stern side when it comes to being a cg!

has rules for you to follow, and if you're a little older in your regression (4+) he may expect you to be able to clean up toys, use manners, etc.

likes to be called papa (because he is german) but if you don't like that then he also enjoys being called "doctor"

tbh i think he cares more about you getting not hurt for the emotional aspect instead of the physical. he knows he could heal you up with the medigun whenever he wants, he just doesn't need his baby to feel the pain if he can prevent it

reads so many books (this man is a huge dweeb ik) and really likes relaxing by sitting you on his lap and reading stories to you. will do all the funny voices, too

very into touching your face?? since so much of his life is spent focusing on other's body parts i think he's grown to love the features of those he adores because he's able to study them

will let you color in old reports and pictures of x-rays/autopsies he's done (censored, of course) and has a special folder for them

very big teacher. will teach you your own bone names, how many you have, and if you're on the older side he may even attempt to teach you cpr or quiz you on the things he teaches. he thinks it's important to know your body.

he knows he is very busy :( so he has a special corner in the medbay for you! little table for you to sit at, a crib if you're extra tiny, a bookshelf and everything! i imagine it's a bit like the kiddie corners they have at libraries for those who want to read and relax

does not trust a lot of the other mercs to babysit for you (because he has a lot to do and can't always watch you). engineer and heavy are the only main ones, though he does surprisingly trust spy enough to keep an eye on you

speaking of which, NO SCOUT !! he gets so worried about you so easily that he has a silly rule that scout can only hang with you if there is at least one responsible adult around

will play toys with you, and actually prefers it! he thinks that the engagement is nice and spending time with you in a way you enjoy is important to him.

huge on physical touch. he doesn't really like wearing his gloves when he touches you because it makes him feel disconnected from you, like you're a patient. will do the old man thing where he pinches your cheeks and pretends to eat you

lets you sit on his lap whenever he's just doing paperwork or hanging out. surprisingly clingy toward you but its cute!

little blurb i wanted to write about the teaching thing bc im so insane about it actually

warnings: mentions of bones, use of "papa"

"Alright, liebling. Now, do you remember how many bones are in that tiny body of yours?" Medic asks, poking a finger at your tummy. You giggle, looking upwards as you think.

"Two hundred.. two hundred and..." you trail off, unable to remember. You frown for a second. What did Papa tell you last time?

Smiling, he leans over from his sitting spot to whisper in your ear. "Two hundred six!" you shout, proud of yourself for giving the right answer, even if he helped.

"Very good, schatz!" he claps for you, your face breaking into a grin. Medic pulls out a piece of paper from behind him, and a pack of crayons. You squeal as he sets them down in front of you.

"Let's play a game," he starts. "Papa will point out a part of this body, and if you get it right, you may color it in. How does that sound?" When you nod frantically in response, he leads his finger to a part on the bottom half. "What's this?"

"Leg." you smile and grab a green crayon, excited to win your game.

divider by @aquazero, banner by me!

[adarkrainbow]

More highlights of notes about the brothers Grimm fairytales!

I continue my list of which fairytales were deleted to become which story. The German "Puss in Boots" was removed in favor of "The three languages". "Trine, Hans' woman" was replaced by "Clever Elsa". "The Sparrow and its four children" was removed in favor of "The Tailor in Heaven". Technically speaking, "Tom Thumb" replaced "The bag, the hat and the horn" - though it wasn't removed, just displaced in the order. "Frau Trude" replaced "The strange feast" - even though interestingly, these two stories have been identified as examples of the two "forms" of the farytale-type AT 334, "The witch's household". The Strange Feast is the 334 B, typical of Western Europe ; Frau Trude is the 334 A, typical of Eastern Europe.

The first version of "The Wedding of Frau Fox" was noted to be one of Jacob Grimm's favorite fairytales. It came from his childhood and he was very fond of it. Though the Grimms had to "censor" the fairytale because Achim von Arnim saw in there sexual subtext showing this story was infected by *cough cough* "French debauchery" (Zeiselschwänze - Zieselschwanz).

There is a true "Bluebeard cycle" in the Grimm fairytales: The Robber Bridegroom, Fitcher's Bird, and deleted fairytales such as the Grimm Bluebeard or the Murder Castle.

The reason why poor Herr Korbes gets massacred by the animals is, according to the Grimms, because he is some sort of bogeyman. H-J. Uther identifies it as part of a cycle of "spook tales" alongside "Der Herr Gevatter" (Herr Godfather) and "Frau Trude".

A variation of "Fitcher's Bird" is about a poor woodcutter asking his daughters to bring him his meal while he works in the forest - he uses peas to mark the way, but dwarves that live in the forest change the peas so that the girls travel to their house instead. The girls are enslaved, with the forbidden room motif. In this version the last daughter disguises herself as a bird by rolling in the blood of the forbidden chamber before covering herself in feathers, and those she meet in the forest are talking foxes asking where this "geputzter Vogel" is going. The dwarves hunt the girl down and she manages just in time to return to her father's house - but she cuts off a piece of her heel due to slamming the door so fast. And yeah, here the older sisters stay dead.

While "Briar Rose" clearly takes after Perrault's "Sleeping Beauty", it also bears the mark of madame d'Aulnoy's "The Hind in the woods" (originally it was a crayfish who announced to the queen her pregnancy, just like in d'Aulnoy's story - the Grimms later changed it to a frog). However the name of Briar Rose, "Dornröschen", "Little thorn rose", comes from a German translation of 1730's "Thornflower Story" by Irish-French Anthony Hamilton.

The Grimms themselves made a link between their Briar Rose and their Snow White (alongside the Brunhild legend, and the Pentamerone Thalia, the Sun and the Moon). They also were VERY careful in removing all mentions of "fairies" or "Fee" from their stories to distantiate their Germanic stories from the French "fairy tales", "contes de fées" - hence why here you have "wise-women".

Rapunzel was directly taken out of the German translation (by Friedrich Schulz) of mademoiselle de La Force's French literary fairytales "Persinette". Of course this is a well-known trivia, but the Grimms edited the text over their publications to censor the sexual content of the original draft - Rapunzel doesn't fall pregnant anymore, and the prince now promises to marry her upon seeing her, instead of the two of them living in the debauchery of sinners X)

There's variations of the Rapunzel story where it is not always the mother who wants something out of the witch - sometimes it is the father who craves something. And the witch sometimes asks the father for his future child with the ambiguous saying "I want what's under you belt" (a sentence probably too saucy for the Grimms). To explain Frau Gothel's name, the brothers Grimm tried to explain it as such: the godfather could be called "Vater" (father) or Pathe (godfather) indifferently, as well as "Goth" or "Dod", but the baptized child could also be called "Pathe" or "Gothel", resulting in a confusion of the two figures". So, for the Grimms, Gothel still means "Godmother" but is still treated as a proper name, hence "Frau Gothel".

In a variation the Grimms had of Little Brother and Little Sister, the brother was turned into a doe by the stepmother herself, who then released her hunting dogs after him - while the sister was thrown out of the window by the witch and turned into a female duck.

Ludwig Emil Grimm illustrated Little Brother and Little Sister by showing an angel holding its hands over the children - despite no angel actually appearing in the text. This led to the popular misconception, or belief, that the children had a guardian angel. The brothers Grimm also linked this fairytale, and the one of "The Three Little Men in the Woods", with the French legend of Mélusine (as in the mother goes back to feed and care for her children).

[firestorm09890]

stray canto vii part 1 thoughts (warning: long)

so many cool new designs!! it made me realize how few of interest we got in Canto VI. Then almost everything was pretty standard (classic maid and butler outfits, lots of suits, Cathy had a fancy dress at least? and everything was brown. yes I know, T Corp color drain, but still. and Öufi came before season 3 ended so that didn’t count), but this time we have Camille, the P Corp guys, Fanghunt Office, Hugo I guess, Hong Lu’s sister, the firefist guy? if he counts? he barely appeared, Sansón, and all the fancy dressed up bloodfiends. woo babey!!

speaking of Jia Xichun, I like her! She’s cute! I didn’t expect to see anyone related to Hong Lu, but in retrospect I probably should’ve, since his turn is next and his family is massive. I hope nothing bad happens to her. I've never read Dream of the Red Chamber

also speaking of Hugo, lol. lmao. when he was talking about pressing the button to get the reward I was like “oh hopkins 2, got it” and then Ryōshū sliced off his hands so I guess… not hopkins 2

ALSO the blonde Fanghunt guy is named Romero, which is apparently the name of a character in Vampire: The Masquerade. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was an intentional reference

Sinclair cursing that one guy out was so awesome. I remember when Canto V part 2 came out and he censored himself saying “Bitch Brother” people were worried that the new translators were making him softer than he actually was, but, nah, he tries his best to be a polite boy but when he’s actually genuinely pissed off he does not hold back. Ryōshū correcting him BUT THEN SAYING HIS INTERPRETATION WAS GOOD absolutely killed me. my son demands respect

it’s a good day to be a Leviathan fan

The scripted loss encounter was so cool. They set you to level 45 no matter what level your LCB Don is, and take away all your EGO except the base (which you can’t even use), and I don’t know how far you can actually get in this fight because I flipped tails every single time and lost every clash

let’s talk about the Barber! leave it to Project Moon to look at the character who didn’t have very much of a personality who stuck around with the priest and attempted multiple plans to bring Don Quixote back home so he could become sane again (and burned a bunch of Quixote’s chivalry books, also with the priest), and turned him into an insane vampire woman with big scissors and a shrill cackle who stitches masks onto people’s faces.

interesting choice to have Sancho and Dulcinea both named in a single line and then not acknowledged or mentioned again

Sansón! so based on his story log portrait background being bisexual, the blue name, and him resembling someone in Demian’s group in the Limbus Company PV, I feel confident saying he’s part of Demian’s Group. The spot where his Sign would be is covered by his mask, though, so no one in-universe knows

I think this is why Sinclair was cast in the role of the Knight of the White Moon: he also has the sign, which Sansón (who is the Knight of the White Moon) would be able to see, and even if other sinners have it too, they’re not Demian’s special guy. everyone else, though, seemed to be cast in the most humiliating role possible: horse to be ridden for Gregor, wild animal for Heathcliff, random peasant for Rodya, presumably homeless old person for Outis

ok Sansón. in the book, he’s a young college student who read the first part of Don Quixote and, in part 2, approaches Quixote saying he’s a big fan and encouraging him to go back out and do more knight stuff. However, he actually just thinks Don Quixote’s antics are very amusing and isn’t actually an earnest supporter, and is conspiring with the barber and priest to get Quixote back home to stay. the way they (priest and barber try to bring him home in part 1 is by tricking him with an adventure that’s conveniently in the same direction as their home village, but then they get sidetracked in an inn for a long time so they just put him in a cage and drive him home. in part 2, they want to play on Quixote’s terms for a more effective result. near the beginning of the second part, they have Sansón dress as a knight (called the Knight of Mirrors/Knight of the Forest. these titles have no significance in the book but apparently the mirror thing forces Quixote to see himself as the frail old man he is in Man of La Mancha), say his lady is fairer than Dulcinea to get Don Quixote to duel him, and then make Quixote promise to stay home for a year when he loses. however, Sansón is the one who loses, because he wasn’t expecting Quixote to actually be good at jousting. Later, near the very end, which iirc is 3 months after the first encounter, another knight called the Knight of the White Moon issues the exact same challenge to Don Quixote (it’s just Sansón again, and "White Moon" has no significance in the original book either), but this time Sansón wins, so Don Quixote goes home, dejected, and then becomes “sane” again and dies.

Since this Sansón is part of Demian’s group, I don’t think his intentions will be the same- the Barber was a bloodfiend, and he sees beyond the ambitions of the bloodfiends now- but it’s fun to know how he is in the source nonetheless

I really like how he didn’t show up after the Barber’s defeat to say something cryptic and then leave, he told us quite a bit, and though his methods were… questionable, he DID force the sinners to actually finally pay attention to Don Quixote

speaking of the stage play, I like the juxtaposition between Sansón’s play and the Barber’s. in a different context, what Sansón did might’ve been framed as horrifying, and we’d be talking about how uncanny and unreal this is, but I don’t think that’s the intention here. the sinners might be playing roles, and all the enemies are cardboard cutouts, but it’s better than putting targets on real people (though I guess they’re not “people”, they’re bad, bad, bloodfiends). the cheerful music in La Manchaland is distorted and out of place, while the stage play is nice in comparison. the music for the talking sections is a bit too upbeat for the situation, but the music during the battles really immerses you. guitar! trumpet! maraca! this music is clearly composed to emulate spanish music, and it’s very earnest, which I think is important, with how easily music sets tone in media.

in both cases, Don Quixote is in a delusion. nothing in the stage play of her adventures is real, but she’s also completely wrapped up in the narrative of evil bloodfiends without the knowledge that she is one. a violent nightmare and a peaceful dream, both of which she needs to wake up from.

they both do this thing with black-and-white thinking, too. there’s a difference between the “good” bloodfiends, which you should get along with, and the “bad” ones, which you need to kill (though Don sees them both as bad), and then the bandits in the stage play are cartoonishly evil and love to bully the weak. except it seems the first is the narrative the Barber wanted to sell, while the second is Don Quixote’s reality… I mean, the play is definitely inaccurate, but we’ve seen how Don behaves

if you follow me for kingdom hearts and are for some reason reading this you know how much I love Nobodies in kh. people who used to be human, but aren’t anymore, who look close enough but are different on an intrinsic and physiological level, that everyone automatically treats as unreasonable monsters that need to die when they’re more complicated than that… I love it so much, I’m cheering and clapping whenever bloodfiend morality is brought up. Moses said that Larierre was cordial and offered her a place to sit and talk, but then also said bloodfiends are insatiably hungry and you shouldn’t underestimate them. agh I love it

also THE MUSIIIIIC every fight theme so far has been a banger. songs that were already good but with typical carnival instruments, big brass swing, the aforementioned nice spanish music, and the fucked up and evil sequel to dubstep electroswing featuring evil laughter

and finally, the helm of mambrino. in early part 1 of Don Quixote, he sees a barber (COMPLETELY unrelated barber to the other barber btw) carrying a basin on his head, and thinks it’s the amazing mystical Helm of Mambrino, so he attacks the barber and steals the basin. Don Quixote wears it as a helmet a few times and everyone thinks it looks really stupid. they did not fight a bear for it, nor did they go into a cave. idk what this might actually be in the City. either we’ll see or we won’t

[sabrinbrin]

To no one's surprise the theme park nerd whose favourite character is the little purple mascot has fallen in love with the video game about a theme park with a little purple mascot. In addition to watching playthroughs and secrets videos about Indigo Park I also rewatched the character introduction video and noticed a few things: (spoilers for chapter 1 below!)

In Mollie's intro, UniqueGeese says that she's "a loyal bird who would do anything to protect her friends." This may be why she's the first one to face us, but also why she waits to take us down until after we fend off Lloyd. (While we technically don't see her head on until after then, she does show up multiple times on the train ride, including very close behind us in Lloyd's section, and probably could have killed us sooner if she wanted.) We weren't seen as a threat until our critter cuff causes Lloyd to flee in the theatre, and from there she may have decided to target us to try and protect everyone.

In the cast intro video UniqueGeese also speaks about how Mollie's his favourite, which makes it surprising that she's the first to die and makes me think that we're not done with her quite yet (though he did say on a recent livestream that we wouldn't be seeing her for the next few chapters, so this is just my speculation).

In Lloyd's intro, it states that he "struts across the stage with an air of arrogance that could rival any monarch. He's friends with the main cast, but he's really starting to push it." I think this may be why Rambley doesn't like him, and I wouldn't be surprised if we learn that other members of the cast dislike him too.

For some reason, Finley's intro censors that he collects sea shells. While it's understandable that some info aside from his name and image would be censored to preserve some mystery prior to the game's release, it strikes me as odd because it seems like a small and innocuous detail when stated in chapter 1. As well, Salem, a character who we are shown a lot less of and is still shrouded in mystery, has no extra details censored from their intro.

Not lore related but Salem uses they/them pronouns! Just wanted to add it because I've seen people online asking about their gender.

Speaking of Salem, their intro says that they're "quick, cunning, but try to hide it with their 'punk' exterior." Being quick and cunning don't strike me as things to be hidden with a punk exterior, and while I may just be looking deeper where I shouldn't, this leads me to think that Salem may have a softer side we haven't seen yet. This combined with the later note that they "can use countless inventions to get out of a sticky situation" makes me think that they may actually help us later on, despite their actions in the arcade game showcasing them as a villain.

My only note for Rambley is that his intro states he can get "a bit too excited, [but he's] always there for his friends" which fits what we've seen so far. I think he's trustworthy and just happy to see someone back in the park, and that if he does turn on us it will be against his will (though this is my own speculation and not from the intro).

Not from the character intros, but in another video (specifically the one about the knockoff merch), UniqueGeese says that we receive an item from Rambley in chapter 1 that will be used a lot more later on in the game. I think it's safe to say that's the critter cuff (as it's the only item we get from Rambley directly), and I'm curious to see what more it can do – so far, we know it can get us into various areas, fend off attacking mascots with a specific frequency (from Lloyd's encounter), and will eventually be able to resuscitate us (possibly being a checkoff's gun to be used later).

[kat-creations]

Jax x mexican fem reader

He finds you accent funny( if you have one.) especially when you pronounce stores and other thing.

 He finds it funny when you don’t remember the name of something and you just say  agárra me el dese.(get me the thing) it makes him giggle a bit every time.

On the other hand, he does hate it whenever you take off your shoe and start hitting him with it. (He still doesn’t understand how a slipper or a shoe can become a lethal weapon in less than two seconds.)

He still doesn’t understand how you’re able to hit him perfectly on the head when he’s trying to run away from you before you hit him.( later on starts to ask you how to do it so you can hit other people from far away for a prank)

He loves it whenever you sing in your language either in front of the others, or even just by yourself in your room when you think no one is listening to you.( Not that he will ever tell you he dose)

He keeps your room key very close to him at all times in case he hears you start singing in your room by yourself so he can just come in and or peep through the door and listen to you sing.

I also find it fascinating on how many different ways you can dance just one song. Still doesn’t understand how you can move your feet so fast or so fluently especially your hips.

Almost ever fight the two of you have is just you getting pissed off of his jokes, and you cussing him out in Spanish, which were some reason Caine has not censored. Then him yelling at you saying “I don’t speak Taco Bell! “And then you just get pissed off and just start hitting him with your slippers/shoe.

He does love your cooking on the other hand not that he would actually tell you directly. Every now and then he’ll give a comment, saying it was good, or nice. Will eat through the pain of the spicy food. ( Will be drinking so much milk and water that he can find the moment he get out of you eyesight.)

Still doesn’t understand the nickname you call him by conejo morado.( purple bunny)

As a s/o

Loves it whenever you come to his defense and cuss whoever is bothering him. It warms is heart seeing you do that. You’re actually defending. He covered his face whenever you ask him if he’s OK since he’s blushing under the covered up part of his face with his hand.

Find that funny whenever something goes wrong on the dates that you make for the two of you.

Some of the stories about how you grow up and how your siblings active during parties in for piñata’s terrifying him.

Especially since he’s not a kid person. He could just imagine the horror trying to take care of kids that Literally run around and hit each other over candy that comes out of a piñata.( Wonders how you even survive that growing up)

Find the face smashing into birthday cake, tradition hilarious. Wants to try it on you until you told him the story where you literally gave your cousin a blackeye because of it.( things twice about ruining your birthdays now.)

Purposely does things to piss you off just so you can cause I’m out in Spanish he just stays there and looks at you with a smirk, face and flirts with you more to get your even more pissed off try to run away afterward, but gets hit in the head with a slipper.

Absolutely adores it  whenever you make  pan dulce (Mexican sweet breed.) Hid favorite is conchas, galletas, cono, y poquito with some coffee in the morning.

Finds the stories, you tell him about cookouts, funny and entertaining, especially on long and boring days that he has or when you tell him that someone got into a fight.

Both of you start drama and problems for the others. Then watch it on falls on the sidelines. 

Is always impressed on how fast you can run whenever someone gets abstracted. ( like he’s a rabbit and he can run pretty fast, but damn, can you out run him any day)

Hates it whenever you start the cleaning ritual every Sunday or what you believe. It’s a Sunday.(especially when you start singing and blasting music out of nowhere, or when you go into his room, even though he had all the keys and other ways to get into his room.) Its his nightmare

[fruity-pontmercy]

Les Mis adaptations and apolitical appropriation

I think it's no secret on this blog that I love the original Les Mis 1980 concept album in French, and that I also love comparing different versions of the stage musical. I've noticed that Les Mis seems to get progressively more vaguely apolitical as time goes on, not only in the way it's viewed in our culture, but in the actual text as well.

It's natural for specifics to be lost in adaptation. It's easier to get people to care about 'the people vs. the king' in a relatively short musical rather than actually facing the audience with the absolute mess that were 19th century french politics (monarchist orleanists vs monarchist legitimists vs imperialist vs bonapartist democrats vs every flavour of republican imaginable). Still, I feel that as time goes on, as more revivals and adaptations of the stage musical come out, the more watered down its politics become. Like, Les Mis at it's core is just meant to be a fancily written, drawn out political essay, right?

In a way I feel that the 1980 concept album almost tried to modernise it with its symbols of progress. Yes, through Enjolras' infamous disco segment (and other similar allusions to the ideals of social change), but perhaps most interestingly to me, through one short line that threw me off when I first heard it, because it seems so insignificant, but might actually be the most explicitly leftist line of all of Les Mis.

"Son coeur vibrait à gauche et il le proclama" (roughly "His heart beat to the left and he proclaimed it" i.e: he was a leftist) Feuilly says, while speaking of the now dead général Lamarque in Les Amis de L'ABC.

What's that? An actual mention of leftism??? in MY vaguely progressive yet apolitical musical??? More seriously, this mention of leftism, clashing with the rest of the musical due to it's seeming anachronism, is interesting not because it's actually more political than anything else in Les Mis, rather, because it's not scared to explicitly name what it's trying to do.

But we've come a long way from the Concept Album days, it's been 43 years, and Les Misérables is now one of the most famous and beloved musicals in the entire world. It's been revived and reimagined and adapted in a million ways, in different mediums, in different languages and countries, and it's clear that it's changed along with it's audience.

On top of pointing out a cool line in my favourite version of the musical, I wanted to write this post to reflect on the perception of the political message of this work. We as a Les Mis fandom on Tumblr are very political, I don't need to tell you that, however, I feel that because this very left leaning space has sprung out of a work we all love so much, we oftentimes forget to revisit it from a more objective point of view.

Les Misérables has a history of being misrepresented, this has been true since it's publication, since american confederate soldiers became entranced with their censored translation Lee's Miserables. However, with it's musical adaptation, this misinterpretation has been made not only more accessible but also easier. As much as I love musical theatre and I think it is at it's best an incredible art form able to communicate complex themes visulally by the masses for the masses, I think it'd be idealistic to ignore the fact that the people who can afford to go see musicals regularly are, usually, not the common folk. Broadway and the West End are industries which, like most, need money to keep them afloat, and are loved people of all political backgrounds (and unfortunately, often older conservatives) not just communists on tumblr. We've seen the way Les Miz UK's social media team constantly misses the mark regarding different social issues, and the way Cameron Makintosh has used the musical to propagate his transphobia, and most of us can agree that these actions are in complete antithesis with the message of Les Misérables as a novel.

But I must ask, how does Les Mis ,as a West End musical in it's current form, actually drive a leftist message, and how are we as a community helping if every time someone relating to the musical messes up if we just claim they "don't get it"?

I'm thinking in particular of incidents like last october, where Just Stop Oil crashed Les Mis at the West End. Whether you think it's good activism or not is not the question I think, this instance is interesting particularly because it shows that, outside of Les Misérables analysis circles and fandom spaces, it is not recognised as an inherently leftist, political or activist work, and instead of just saying they completely missed the point of the musical, I think it'd be interesting to take a step back and look at what the musical as it stands actually represents in our culture today.

I don't pretend to have all the answers, so I won't try to give one, but I do hope we can reflect on this a bit.

[snowfieldstories]

In Life and Death [Chapter 3]

Kim Dokja x Reader/Original female character

In Life and Death Masterlist

Warnings: strong violence and trauma, language

A/N: This beginning part was tough to nail down. I'll probably go back and revise because I'm not totally satisfied with it.

Summary:

In which a reader finds herself tossed into the pages of her favorite web novel after her untimely death. A novel of a novel within reality. It's a reader's dream, right? Well, this reader vows to bring the right epilogue to her beloved character, Kim Dokja. She will give him the happiest of endings. Or she will die trying.

⚠️MAJOR SPOILERS FOR ORV WEB NOVEL AND MANHWA!!!!⚠️

(Hahaha sorry about the gif but I have to laugh about it or I'll cry)

Episode III. Chapter 3 — A Ruined World: Round Two

Yoo Joonghyuk traveled at an awfully fast pace. We encountered a few frenzied ground rats, which we dealt with at once, and even more ground rat corpses further along.

My sword of light cast a dim glow in the tunnel. Joonghyuk, it seemed, felt no urgency to speak with me and forged ahead, leaving me with a delightful (read the sarcasm) view of his back.

The tracks continued on but our supposed conversation did not.

With this extra time to myself, I considered revealing that I was a fellow regressor. The possible benefits were surely worth it; we could collaborate over future plans more easily and prevent possible disaster. I led Dokja to believe that I wouldn't—but I wanted to let Joonghyuk know that he wasn't alone in this never-ending series of regressions. That somebody, anybody, had a small understanding of what he endured.

I remembered him. I knew this Yoo Joonghyuk, even if he didn't fully know himself.

We walked for a time with nothing to fill the silence except for the occasional scurrying of distant ground rats.

I swung the blade of light a few times and eyed Joonghyuk's back. I thought I could take him on if it came down to it. Sure, he would overpower me in the end, but I was much quicker and more agile than him with my 'Fleet Foot' skill. I could get away if he attacked. Maybe.

Sorry, Dokja. "I'm a regressor too."

After growing used to the rhythmic footsteps ahead of me, the sudden falter caused me to jerk back.

"I know."

What? My tense muscles loosened in shock. I had been expecting a sword through the chest, an anger, questions, or really anything but that.

"I used 'Sage's Eye' on you already."

Still... "But there's a censor on my stats."

I opened my attributes window for the first time since arriving in this turn. My stomach dropped.

"Shit, are you SERIOUS?!"

In fact, all of my information was on clear display, with the exception of one part marked by a series of "???". I cursed myself for stupidly not checking it sooner.

Then I shivered. Joonghyuk could have easily slaughtered me while I was unconscious after discovering a fellow regressor. No—he could have killed me immediately after seeing me on the bridge. He should have. This is Yoo Joonghyuk of the third round; a suspiciously powerful anomaly like me was grounds for instant elimination. The "2nd turn" label must have been my saving grace. Or maybe...maybe he sensed the past...?

"Just the one. What is it?" he asked.

"I have no idea." I felt a tick of annoyance as Joonghyuk's 'Lie Detection' activated and rang true.

There was a second stigma besides 'Regression' but I honestly couldn't recall what it might be.

We stopped for a water break at Yaksu station. Joonghyuk cleared the area of ground rats and a few people that tried to ambush us near the toilets. I used that time to thoroughly inspect my attributes window.

[ < Personal Information > ]

Name: Choi Yeona Age: 27 Constellation Support: Mother of Divine Desire Personal Attributes: Avid Reader (Common), Maladaptive Daydreamer (Rare), The Architect (Legendary), Regressor <2nd Round> (Legendary) Exclusive skills: [Sacred Light Lv. 5], [Rationality Lv. 9], [Fleet Foot Lv. 6], [Lie Detection Lv. 2], [Memory Enhancement Lv. 4], [Buff Lv. 4], [Bank of Lady Fortune Lv. 2], [Wire Transfer Lv. 1]... Stigma: [??? Lv. ???], [Pinpoint Regression Lv. 1] Overall Stats: [Stamina Lv. 15], [Strength Lv. 20], [Agility Lv. 22], [Mana Lv. 16]

Damn. It's no wonder I couldn't hold the bridge of light after the first scenario. I immediately boosted my stamina and mana levels with some coins, a bit embarrassed at how much lower they were to the others. Level 18 each should be good enough for now. But my other abilities were decently powerful.

Though I was disappointed to see that a lot of the skills I'd collected last round were weaker or missing, things had also been added. The 'Wire Transfer' skill, for one, and a couple new personal attributes. I skimmed past the first two—Maladaptive Daydreamer made me cringe as I recalled my escapist tendencies in my first, pre-transmigration life—and settled on the third. The Architect. I expected to have earned an author attribute after drafting my story of the last turn, but this was more curious. What sort of application did this attribute have?

I eyed the stigma section next. 'Pinpoint Regression' was at level one, as expected for my first turn, but just what was the stigma before it?

I thought of my last turn. There was a memory, a wiggling sensation, that I could almost grasp. A voice.

「 A re you dy ing for re al ?! 」

I screamed and clutched my head. There was an excruciating pain, like two hot pokers had been jammed through my eyeballs into the flesh of my brain. Once the feeling dulled and my vision returned, I scrambled for the aspirin and gulped down a few capsules. My attributes window still glowed in front of me.

[Memory Enhancement Lv. 3]

I frowned at the change, but before I could question it further, Joonghyuk stood. "Let's move."

...Did that asshole really just sit there while I was in such obvious pain? I glared at his retreating back. Yes, yes he did.

We moved in tandem, clearing the way with unspoken precision. Joonghyuk hadn't yet commented on 'Pinpoint Regression.'

"You're...weirdly casual about this."

Joonghyuk glanced at me. "Should I not be?"

"I thought you killed other regressors."

"I do."

It went uncomfortably silent. Well, I guess only uncomfortable for me, because then Joonghyuk huffed.

"Regressors usually know too much. But it's only your second turn."

I was rather miffed. Was he calling me ignorant? "Who says I don't have my own plans?"

There was no response to that. I was ready to pepper him with my own questions, but he turned sharply to stop me in my tracks. My grip tightened around my blade.

"How were we acquainted in your last turn?"

"Um." I searched for a good half-truth. "We were companions, of a sort."

[A few constellations are frustrated at the filter on this conversation.]

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' observes you cautiously.]

I was not a fan of two Yoo Joonghyuks steeling their gaze into me.

"I've never seen you before."

It was a weighty accusation. How could I possibly explain away my lack of existence in previous rounds?

"You saw how my stigma is 'pinpoint'? I can jump into other regression worlds, so you couldn't have seen me in any but my first." Joonghyuk's brows furrowed. "Our regression world-lines must not have overlapped for you until now."

I hoped playing off the unheard specialty of my stigma would get him off my back. Whether he accepted my explanation or not, it silenced any further discussion on the matter.

We soon reached the edge of the tunnel just before the entrance to Chungmuro.

[ Sub-scenario — Phantom Prison has begun! ]

The last thing I saw was a silvery fog sweeping into the tunnel before a haze overtook me. I could no longer see Joonghyuk ahead of me. Colors and shapes slipped just out of my grasp, and I was unsteady on my feet.

There was a loud grunt, then, thump! "Joonghyuk!"

I pitched forwards, trying to reach him, but I tripped and rolled until I heavy foot stopped me. The heel dug sharply into my ribcage.

「You're no hero.」

A woman leaned down, her long hair moving to reveal a deep, gnarled scar knotting from her forehead down through her right eye. Her mouth grinned, the torn and gaping flesh in the corners revealing too many teeth.

I tried conjuring a blade, arrows, anything, but sacred light was silent. "Please," I whimpered.

The voice that followed was something hateful.

「'Angel,' they call you. It is not one of salvation, but of death.」

「Death follows you.」

The weight on my chest grew heavier as the broken body of a young boy replaced the foot.

"Ha-joon," I cried, my bloodied hands shaking as I clutched his cold skin. "Ha-joon, please forgive me."

「It should have been you.」

His unseeing gaze seemed to agree with her.

I shifted, cradling the boy my arms and rocking back and forth. Tears slipped down my face and I looked down, only to find that the body was no longer Ha-joon, but a head-blown man in a suit. His blue tie was dark with blood.

"Dokja." The name was hoarse as it escaped my lips. Dokja, Dokja, Dokja.

He felt so real beneath my fingers. I was lightheaded and nauseous all at once, and I knew these were all memories long past but this past was paralyzing.

Rough hands wrenched me back by the shoulders.

「You think you're better than us?!」

The passengers of train carriage 3607 surrounded me, suffocating me with hands and words.

「In the corner, crushing your little bugs. How dare you!」

「Arrogant bitch!」

「She wants us to die!」

「Thought you were sneaky, did you?」

Centered in the mob, a gaunt, lanky man pointed his finger at me with a cruel twist to his features. 'Nosey Parker' himself. He was the one to pick me out with that dreadful skill of his.

[The skill 'Sacred Light Lv. 5' has been activated.]

He was also the first one I ripped into with my blade. I then swung blindly at everyone, though whether in rage or desperation, I wasn't sure. There was little resistance despite their bluster.

An angel of death.

Their bodies lay in pools of flesh and blood. My hands trembled, the golden knife casting a sickly glow on my skin. I cancelled the skill.

It was a moment too soon.

I grasped at the force that now choked me. The pressure grew stronger and I wheezed.

「Hands up!」

I squinted at the light blinding my eyes and cast them aside, my eyes landing on the familiar orange, mid-century sofa and walnut floorboards. The click of a gun snapped my attention back forwards.

「Let her go. No one has to get hurt.」

I gasped at the cold metal pressing hard into my throat above the hand. And a muttering in my ear.

「She's mine. Mine. You can't take her, you don't deserve her! She's perfect—you'll ruin her! She's MINE.」

The blade gouged into my skin, the hand cutting off the air from my lungs. I tugged in vain at the unyielding arm at my throat, and another force pinned my squirming body down. My vision began to blacken and a shot rang out.

「Yeona—!」

"...Yeona."

I was lying on my back in the tunnel. The pressure at my throat lessened, and I could breathe. In and out, in and out. A tear slowly tracked down my temple and into my hairline. The smell of damp earth was grounding.

At my now-stationary body, the person above me eased off my torso and limbs. Yoo Joonghyuk sat back on his heels, eyeing me warily. I surged up and loomed over him.

"Why the fuck would you think it's a good idea to grab me by the neck?" I spat in his face.

"You needed to snap out of it."

"Maybe you have a choking fetish." He shot me a withering glare. I gripped his shoulder with maximum strength, looking him square in the eye. "Don't ever touch my fucking neck again. If you do I'll kill you."

Even though I certainly wouldn't, my tone was dead-serious. Joonghyuk's attention was sharp on me until I released him and backed away. I set about dusting off my clothes and checking my gear.

"Phantom Prison."

I grunted.

"It forces you to relive your most painful memories and traps you there to unleash madness." I didn't have the heart nor energy to tell him I already knew. "Did you not encounter it your previous round?"

"You're awfully chatty."

In fact, I had gone through this sub-scenario before. But back then, there were only two memories worth torturing me with: Dokja's death, and my own. And seeing as my memories post-transmigration were choppy at best, I hadn't experienced much difficulty escaping the prison. It was Joonghyuk and Han Sooyoung who needed saving instead.

A blue message distracted me.

[The constellation 'God's Lone Soul Courier' has noticed you.]

I had seen this modifier once before, midway through my last round. It was the same message as that time. Though I strongly suspected their true identity, I wasn't sure if it was smart to acknowledge him.

I decided to let it be.

Joonghyuk had moved to the tunnel's exit and—surprisingly—waited as I finished collecting myself. We passed through.

Chungmuro station was empty. At least, there was no one to greet us in the immediate area of the platform. There was a harsh noise above us.

We hurried up the stairs to find a horde of people surrounding a high school girl. Several men held her arms back while others attempted to grab onto her kicking legs. "I'll kill you! Ugly, nasty ahjussis!"

Whether these men were of Gong Pildu's Landlord Alliance or not didn't matter—Lee Jihye was in trouble.

[Incarnation 'Choi Yeona' has activated 'Fleet Foot Lv. 6.']

[The exclusive skill 'Sacred Light' had been activated!]

I whipped a thick cord of light and caught one man's arm, yanking back so that he sprawled on the ground. The others cried out. "There!"

Joonghyuk swiped once with his sword and cut down three men. I sidestepped one that lunged at me, stabbing him in the back with sacred light.

The men were enraged. "That girl attacked us first!"

Jihye regained use of her arm and sucker punched her nearest assailant in the face. It left a satisfying crack.

She turned to grab her sword from the one holding it, and another jumped at her back. I flicked my wrist and twisted the whip-turned lasso around his body, binding him. Jihye wrestled with her sword. Joonghyuk, having eliminated the surrounding threats, slashed the man struggling with her.

Jihye turned around just as I was stabbing a knife through the soft underside of the final man's chin.

Her eyes were wide. "You two..."

"Hey." I pushed the stray hairs out of my face, grimacing at the blood. "I'm Choi Yeona. What's your—"

Jihye spun back around to gape at Joonghyuk. "Teach me!"

He cleaned his sword with an apparent disinterest. "Why?"

"Please! I will do anything and everything you say," she said, offering out her own sword with a slight bow. "I want to learn sword fighting from you and become stronger."

Crafty emo bastard. Teenagers always want more what they are seemingly denied, that which is just out of reach or deemed "inaccessible." It also helped that he possessed an unfairly symmetrical face.

Joonghyuk finally looked up, appraising, and nodded once. Jihye gushed out her gratitude with stars in her eyes. "I'm Lee Jihye, by the way."

"Yoo Joonghyuk."

"Master," she said in a way that was both breathless and earnest.

[A few constellations look upon this new Master-Student relationship with great interest!]

"I'm here too," I muttered.

I was ignored by all.

There weren't many constellations I was close with in the last round. I sometimes exchanged messages with Mother, but she was not someone I could contact for the time being. I hardly knew any others in this regression. (Even Uriel had abandoned me, probably keenly looking after Jung Heewon as she bloomed into a fierce sword of judgement right about now.)

Joonghyuk gave quiet instructions to Jihye to which she nodded fervently. After all was said, she skipped away to do who knows what tasks for the strict and fussy regressor.

I pulled a granola bar from my backpack in the meantime, missing having someone companionable to talk with.

Dokja, Sangah, everyone...please arrive quickly.

As if he had read my thoughts with an omniscient skill, Joonghyuk sheathed his sword and approached me. "Kim Dokja. Is he really a prophet?"

I gave him a careful glance, swallowing the last bite. "Yes, but not in the traditional sense."

Joonghyuk hummed. He surprisingly wasn't using lie detection, or at least, I wasn't receiving notifications about it. But one could never be too careful.

"Once this next scenario is over, I will go with Dokja to capture the flags; I want to send him on the 'King's Road' as quick as possible."

"No. He will follow me."

I felt a spark of indignation. "You don't have a claim over him. He has his own goals, and I will be by his side, helping him."

"The prophet is more useful at my side."

"Like hell," I said angrily. "He may very well be your companion now, but he is my Dokja first!"

He stared at me hard and then groaned, disbelieving. "You fool. Love has no place in this world."

My face heated. "I never said—"

"You didn't have to."

"Listen—"

"Shut up and you listen. You may love freely in this turn and in the next, and so on, but you will learn very quickly what it means to hold on to that love. To lose it over and over again. To never see its conclusion. Love is not meant for us; a regressor's life is meant to be lived alone."

"He is not Lee Seolhwa."

I regretted my words immediately at the sad, embittered look on Joonghyuk's face. But I stood my ground.

"Dokja is not her. And anyways, this is my final turn, so I don't have to worry about such things."

Joonghyuk didn't respond. His anger had waned some, but now he held a sort of resignation, a pity, towards me. In his eyes, I was a mere child on my second turn at life—what was one try to a thousand failed attempts? Even though Joonghyuk only possessed memories up to his third turn, the instincts honed from 1,863 regressions had shaped this man's mindset. If only he knew that this would truly be his last.

"You should allow yourself to love this time, too, Joonghyuk."

He looked at me for a long while, then he blinked and scanned my face, taking in my closeness. In a toneless voice, he said, "Thanks, but I'm not interested."

I jerked back. This conceited egomaniac! "No—! Obviously, I meant Lee Seolhwa! Where did you get such a big head?"

Only because I had known 1863rd Yoo Joonghyuk for years was I able to spot the barest hint of amusement in the corners of his neutral expression. It was good to know that a sense of humor still existed somewhere in that scrambled brain of his.

Even if it was at my expense.

I grumbled curses at Joonghyuk and turned away. There was nothing pressing to do at the moment, so I left him in search of the largest green zone in Chungmuro station.

It was time to recruit—or dominate—Gong Pildu and his Landlord Alliance.

Ground rats were easy enough to hunt and gather, but no one cared to mention the smell and the way their coarse, thick hairs clung to your clothing and left a rank, oily film all over.

I deposited the last few carcasses next to my earlier haul. In the three days I had been here, we burned through the meat supply terribly quick. I knew wiping my hands on my pants would do nothing to reduce the gross feeling and stench, so I headed up to the toilets. There was a buzz of commotion.

A crowd had gathered around Gong Pildu's great plot of land. I spotted Sangah's light brown hair from behind, and rushed to push my way through the bystanders.

"No, you and that kid are 1,000 coins."

I burst forwards in time to see Dokja's face grow tight with anger.

[You have invaded private property!]

The turrets all aimed at my body now.

"Gong Pildu, that is too much." I glared at the potbellied man who straightened up when he saw me. "A 100 coins each. And I'll be the one paying it for them."

His turrets moved away at once. "Yeona, you know these boys?"

Dokja and Gilyoung jolted out of their excitement at the obvious familiarity with which Pildu spoke to me. I crossed my arms at Pildu and he drummed his fingers on his stomach nervously. "They invaded my property," he tried again.

"I've said I'll pay the fee," I said calmly. "Let them pass to the toilets. Now, please."

A conflicted expression crossed Pildu's face. Then he sighed and deactivated the turrets, waving a hand at the two beside me. "Fine then. You got off easy this time...lucky free riders."

Dokja looked very much like he wanted to snap back a retort, but I gave him a light shove towards the bathroom door. I gestured for our other companions to follow, and Sangah shot me a grateful smile as she passed by. I reached out my index finger to Gong Pildu.

He shook his head. "Nah, I don't want you paying me, girl. Family doesn't pay."

Yes...apparently my luck extended far beyond Kim Dokja and even my expectations. And I didn't have to use my luck bank either. By some ridiculous coincidence, Gong Pildu's daughter was named "Yeona" as well. I had discovered this in the last round, but it never served me any advantage back then. Now, with his family's death still fresh on his mind, Pildu immediately brought me into the fold when I had introduced myself. He was a bit dejected when I refused to join his Landlord Alliance, but the fact remained that I was given a free plot of land in the soft spot of his heart.

"Yeona!"

Pildu protested as I touched his hand to transfer 300 coins. I smiled at him. "An extra hundred for my own intrusion."

I went to the toilets and nearly ran into Dokja, who had been lingering by the doorway.

His eyes were sharp on me. "Did I hear that right? Family?"

"Uh." I scratched at the side of my face. "Well, you see, his daughter's name was 'Yeona,' too."

"But you're..."

"I know, I'm way older than his daughter probably was. But I guess getting to call someone by her name is enough." I pondered for a moment. "It must be awfully lonely to grieve alone."

We rounded the corner to the sinks, and there was a cough behind us. I turned, surprised to see Lee Jihye leaning against the wall. I hadn't noticed her standing with my group before. She sidled up to us with her sword perched on one shoulder.

"Jihye, why didn't you tell me they had arrived?"

The girl cast a sly grin at Dokja, and then at me. "His face when I said you were gone was too funny. I thought he would hit me. Or cry."

I narrowed my eyes at Jihye until she huffed and kicked at the ground. "Okay sorry. I'll tell your side piece the truth next time."

"He is not—!"

"Master will be very unhappy when he finds out you're two-timing him," she inspected her fingernails.

"LEE JIHYE."

The moment sacred light furiously twisted around my arms and into a blunt weapon of gold knuckles, Jihye became docile; one step towards her and she quickly skipped out of the bathroom.

"Like I would ever want to date that emo bastard," I muttered as I deactivated sacred light.

I spun around to find Dokja looking like the floor had dropped out from under him. There was a hard lump in my throat as I swallowed, a nervous laughter escaping. "Ignore her. She tends to talk out of her ass...I'm sure you already knew that, though."

"Yes," said Dokja stiffly. Something was on his mind but after a few moments, he must have decided not to share it because he set about washing the grime off his hands. In the time I had washed my own, Dokja still hadn't finished nor looked my way once.

The sound of running water filled the silence until Sangah emerged from a stall. She gave me a pursed-lip smile and rinsed hands next to Dokja, who was still washing his hands.

Sangah wiped the excess water on her suit pants and drew near me, placing a hand on my shoulder. She glanced back at Dokja and chuckled when I eyed her curiously.

"Later," she murmured. Then she was gone.

I sat up on the counter and waited. Dokja finally finished washing up (or feeling the sensation of water running over his skin for ten minutes?!) and he leaned back against the sink. Heewon emerged, glanced at us, and hurried out after Sangah. I kicked my feet, searching for something to say that might lessen the tension.

"Thank you for helping us back there," Dokja said at last.

"Of course. Gong Pildu was surprisingly easy to win over, as you saw. Lee Jihye on the other hand…" My face twisted into a scowl. "She’s loyal and overly-obsessed with her 'Master.' The only reason she even tolerates me is because I arrived with him."

"...Right." Dokja's sour mood returned in full force.

I fidgeted with the smooth, cold tile under my palms.

Before I could try again, Dokja asked, "What did you do the past few days?"

I ticked them off on my fingers. "Saved Lee Jihye from some murderers, trained up my stats and skills because they're downright abysmal right now, searched for the hidden theater dungeon—" I rerouted when Dokja startled at that "—but I didn't go in yet! I wanted to go there with you so I waited. Oh, and I've been mostly hunting ground rats for food."

A small smile now graced Dokja's face, and I felt at ease. "What happened with you while I was gone?"

He told me of the challenges at Geumho station and Cheon Inho's group, and of the struggle with the Dark Keeper in the tunnel cave. I listened intently, and though I knew the details already, I didn't have to pretend to care because it was not me reading these events, but listening to Kim Dokja recounting them. Telling his own story.

And he was truly a wonderful storyteller.

His hands flew in grand gestures as he told me of the battle in the cave, his eyes gleamed as he spoke of Han Myungoh's curse and the breaking of Samyeongdang's statue. His voice drew me in and I couldn't help but fall into his story, hanging on his every word. When he finished, it must have shown how starstruck I was, because he considered me, puzzled, but amused.

I cleared my throat. "You've had a great adventure already, it seems."

"I have."

I nodded to the sword at his side. "I'm glad you were able to get Unbroken Faith this time."

An odd expression crossed Dokja's face, but before he could voice a single thought, another person spoke.

"Why are you in the women's bathroom?"

Yoo Joonghyuk emerged, Jihye hovering behind him.

I wrinkled my nose. "Why are you?"

Joonghyuk gave me a bland look, as if I were stupid for even asking.

A heat of resentment burnt through me. "We're in the middle of a torrid and passionate lovemaking affair, so why don't you just see yourself out?"

Jihye cackled. Perhaps I had gained some favor with her over my words, but it was at the expense of my own neck—a neck Joonghyuk seemed very keen to slice in half at the moment despite my previous warning not to touch it. I didn't dare turn my head to view Dokja's reaction.

Joonghyuk decided to ignore me for the time being, and addressed Dokja again. "It looks like you've kept your companions."

"Looks like I have." Dokja straightened and stepped forwards to match Joonghyuk's gaze. "I see you've left Gong Pildu alone. Why is that?"

"Aren't you a prophet?" scoffed Joonghyuk.

"Prophets don't know everything." At Joonghyuk's crossing arms, Dokja amended, "You need him alive for a future scenario. But only Gong Pildu—so why the others?"

"You wouldn't understand."

The silence that followed was tense. Jihye squeezed the handle of her sword uncomfortably.

"She also left them alive. Why don't you ask her?" I went rigid as Joonghyuk cast his piercing gaze back onto me.

Dokja's expression was hard. "It isn't her problem to deal with."

It's the protagonist's job to deal with villains, is what he meant.

"Interesting."

I didn't like the way Joonghyuk was analyzing us. I remembered our talk from the other day and winced. He saw my love as a weakness, never mind if it was reciprocated or not, and I was afraid this would only hurt his willingness to be Dokja's companion. As much of a priority as my "Save Kim Dokja!" goal was, I didn't want to disrupt the bond that was barely beginning to form between these two.

"Does that apply to everyone, or just Yeona?"

Everyone—including me—startled at my given name falling from Yoo Joonghyuk's lips without any formalities attached. Dokja's jaw clenched hard. "Can I punch you just this once?"

[Incarnation 'Yoo Joonghyuk' has activated 'Tiger God Aura Lv. 5.']

Amusement ticked up in the corner of Joonghyuk's mouth. "If you have the confidence to."

Then he sauntered out of the room, black cape swishing behind him and Lee Jihye not long after. Dokja's fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly.

...I might have to have to work extra hard to ensure things went smoothly between those two blockheads.

I tugged along a still-infuriated Dokja, and we left the toilets to rejoin the rest of our group farther down the station. Dokja mumbled under his breath and shuffled away.

"Yeona-noona!"

Gilyoung launched himself at my torso and hugged me. I ruffled his hair with a smile. "I missed you, Gilyoung."

He squeezed me tightly. "Please don't leave anymore."

It wasn't something I could promise the young boy, so I cast my eyes around, only to find Namwoon awkwardly shuffling back and forth on each foot. I called his name and he jolted up. I held out my other arm. "Get in here, too, you crazy demon."

With a happy cry, he attached himself to my other side. "Angel-noona, don't leave me with these losers ever again."

"Hey!"

Gilyoung pinched Namwoon's arm, and the latter returned the favor. They devolved into a fierce pinching battle, so I untangled from them. "Stop it. I'd like you two to get along, if you can."

Gilyoung stuck out his tongue at Namwoon, who scowled.

I sighed. Perhaps it was too much to ask.

After untangling myself from them, I went over to the others. Hyunsung and Sangah greeted me warmly, expressing their happiness over our reunion and my safety.

When I got to Jung Heewon, I stuck out a tentative hand and she took it. "Nice to meet you. I'm Choi Yeona—oh!"

Heewon swept me up in a tight hug, wrapping me in her old general's robe like seaweed around a roll of gimbap. "I know. They talk about you a lot."

"Hopefully all good things," I said, a little flustered.

She pulled back and smiled. "Actually, I want to thank you properly." At my confusion she continued. "One of those guys returned with...an interesting removal procedure."

My face cleared. "Removal? Did it fall off then? That wasn't my intention."

"Mm I guess. Anyways, I owe you for that. And for leaving them to me."

"They weren't mine to kill," I said in a hard voice. "You owe me nothing; I'm just relieved you're alright in the end."

Heewon nodded. We exchanged a few more words, and then I approached Dokja sitting on a concrete bench. He was deeply focused on something.

"There's only an hour and a half left."

He was broken from his stupor and looked up at me. I sat beside him.

Dokja fidgeted with the smartphone in his hand. "I'm not sure what is best to do about Gong Pildu."

"We can beat them if we join forces!" said Heewon from nearby, and she tried activating 'Hour of Judgement,' but the constellations of the absolute good system remained quiet over her request.

"It's no use," I said. "The Landlord Alliance is not considered evil."

"But aren't they?" There was a confused, almost lost, expression on Heewon's face.

"From our perspective," Dokja stood. "But constellations adhere to a different standard of morality. Evil must be agreed upon."

Heewon was clearly enraged to discover this truth.

"But there might be a way."

All of us paused to look at Dokja. He smiled. There was a smug, confident lift to it that was so attractive, I had to press my thighs into my seat to stem the inviting heat curling inside of me.

"There's a way we can defeat them, but let's leave that for later. Right now, we must survive the night. We should split up to find a green zone room that will fit all of us—Heewon and Gilyoung together, and Hyunsung, Sangah, and Namwoon. Yeona and I will search this area. Meet here twenty minutes before the scenario starts."

Namwoon looked back at me, as if to complain. I narrowed my eyes and he huffed; they all nodded in determination and scattered. Dokja sat back down next to me and began scrolling through his phone. Of course we both knew that searching was hopeless.

It was then that Bihyung must have privately reprimanded him for looking at a "blank" screen, because he turned to me, leaning in close. "Yeona. Can you read anything on my phone?"

I was already staring at it in shock. "...I can."

I could read Ways of Survival. Was it my status as a transmigrator? I wasn't a "character," but in that case, Sangah or Gilyoung should be able to read his phone as well. It unsettled me. There was something odd, something more to this, but I was missing the proper pieces to figure it out.

"I—we should talk about this later," I said quietly, flicking my eyes up to the ceiling. Dokja agreed.

"You two seem really laid back."

Jihye walked towards us with a grin, sword unsheathed and on the usual perch on her shoulder. "Hey, ahjussi. I liked the way you stood up to Master...so I don't want you to die. Both of you."

Dokja grinned back as we stood to greet her. "We won't."

Joonghyuk appeared then with a frown. "You plan to fight the monsters? You'll die, and so will your companions."

"We'll see about that." Dokja challenged him with a cocky raise of an eyebrow. Joonghyuk's eye twitched.

Before the pair left, I took Jihye aside to enlist her help. Joonghyuk observed us curiously, but didn't reject my request on behalf of his student. Jihye agreed and they disappeared.

Lee Jihye would ensure her, Namwoon, and Gilyoung had spots secured upstairs. It made me a bit nervous to trust her with them, particularly Gilyoung, but it was safer up there than down here next to the spawning location (and I not-so-subtly implied that I would gut her like a fish if she let anything happen to them). Though she didn't seem to be overly fond of me still, I sensed that she respected me enough for this task. I wasn't sure how much of that was related to Joonghyuk or her own judgement.

The others returned just then, arguing over which demand they were given was more ridiculously priced for a green zone that night.

Dokja gathered them round and began to explain his plan.

The red barrier ahead of us cast a sinister glow. Sangah, Heewon and Hyunsung were grouped in front of Dokja and I.

[The third main scenario is activated.]

"Go now!"

Snarling monsters emerged from the red. The group sprinted forwards and dashed to the left. They each made it to the green panel on the wall.

[Green Zone 3/3]

Dokja and I ran, monster claws and teeth nipping at our heels, and my skin stung as it was caught and shredded. A horde of beasts charged at us from the front, and we leapt over them.

We were nearly to the other hidden green zone panel when Dokja stopped. Yoo Joonghyuk was right where I knew he would be, leaning against the glowing green wall. I tugged an angry Dokja forwards anyways. My brows furrowed as I neared the barrier. "Joonghyuk, get o—"

"You bastard!"

Dokja was furious now, fending off monsters as his glare bored into the regressor that had just grabbed and yanked me into the green zone behind him.

"Joonghyuk," I said.

He must have sensed something peculiar in my tone because he craned his head back to look at me. I gave him a sickly sweet smile before shoving him forth with a huge buff of strength. He flew into the swarm of monsters. "You're so predictable!"

I stepped out of the green zone just far enough to grab Dokja's arm and shirt collar and pull him towards me. Joonghyuk leapt up, but it was too late.

[Green Zone 2/2]

[A number of constellations are in shock over your actions!]

The tidal waves of fury emanating from Joonghyuk were quickly curbed as he was distracted by the monsters piling on top of him. He set to work at once, slashing off limbs and piercing ribcages in a mess of blood and matted fur and flesh. Individual constellation messages filled the corner of my vision, but I ignored them. It wasn't a good situation. It wasn't funny, either. It wasn't—

But a gleeful little giggle escaped me anyways.

I tilted my head to look at Dokja, who was staring at me in amazement. I beamed at him. His arms were firm around my back.

"Yeona, you really..."

I shrugged. "You were thinking it too; he's more than capable of surviving the night alone. And I think we deserve the break."

My hands tightened on Dokja's collar as I peeked over his shoulder. Joonghyuk was fighting a fresh wave of beasts a ways down the tunnel now, his back to us barely visible through the horde. He would have to fight until dawn or kill another person to occupy their zone. But this was the regressor and protagonist, Yoo Joonghyuk. I wasn't worried for him one bit.

Plus, now Dokja could save those specter's stones for a more dire situation in the future. They would come in handy.

My bent elbows grew uncomfortable at that angle, so I slid my arms behind Dokja's neck and chanced a glance at his face.

He was still staring. I looked back at him, blinking slowly.

I felt his hands press into my body a little harder. There wasn't a ton of distance between us, but we weren't all that close together either. I didn't dare move, nor speak, for fear of shattering the unnamed moment that had formed amidst the turmoil surrounding us.

Dokja moved one arm to brace the wall behind me and lean forwards, resting his head against it. His body trapped me in a bubble of heat from our earlier exertion outrunning the monsters. Each heavy breath he took made his chest brush against mine.

"Thank you," he murmured.

I nodded my head, a little disappointed, then let my weight slump against the wall, too.

[The constellation 'Demon-like Judge of Fire' grumbles with displeasure.]

It was going to be a long night. I didn't fancy staying awake the whole time—sleep deprivation was not a problem we could afford with the never-ending scenario dangers—but there really was no other option.

So I cast my mind to the future, sifting through possibilities and backup plans for my backup plans. If my mind had to be alert all night, then I should at least make use of it.

And if both Dokja and I chose to continue holding on to one another for the remaining eight hours, then that was nobody's business but ours. (But a few constellations were rather interested in that little development anyways.)

Our occupied green zone was terribly small, so we had to do it, right?

...Right?

Next part ->

A/N: RIGHT!

[The author 'snowfieldstories' hopes this fluff will make up for the trauma-angst earlier.]

[loganswdc]

hi y’all !! i’m getting to my inbox messages , i promise , but i saw that it's been confirmed that logan and j*mes aren't on speaking terms , and that's genuinely insane to me . and yes i will be censoring his name from now on because i am pissed off !!!

especially considering how chipper j*mes has been recently , piping up on logan's radio as often as he can to tell him how wonderful he's doing after that article . i'm not saying it isn't true ; it's been confirmed by marcus ericsson on the swedish podcast viaplay F1 .

i personally find it ridiculous to see that a team principal is no longer speaking with his own driver . that , for whatever reason , he dislikes logan so much that it's lead to this . and the mistreatment of logan will continue . just wait until we find out in two weeks that alex's new teammate isn't logan , and better yet logan might even be replaced after the summer break . it's absolute heinous for him to be continuously treated this way , and it's absolutely infuriating . to see logan continue to be treated like this makes my blood boil . i genuinely am beginning to believe that they only kept logan on the team because of the fanbase and american sponsors he brought in . and to think that could be true is actually insane . it's incredible to me that a team principal can be so conceited that this is what his relationship looks like with a driver . that he only speaks to him and is kind for pr reasons , as we've clearly seen . and it makes me both so sad and so pissed off for logan . he genuinely deserves SO MUCH better .

the quote from the podcast , as has been translated to english , is as follows:

"I was also told this weekend by some American friends who know Sargeant that it is... He doesn't have fun in that team either. He thinks it's really hard and apparently so are he and James Vowles. They don't even talk to each other, it's hardly that they greet each other. There has been a complete disconnection between them."

please excuse any errors that may have transpired through translation ; i don't know swedish and had to use an online translator !

here is a link to a twitter post where the quote above is said (again , in swedish): https://x.com/F1_Tracktion/status/1815802308208254998

if anyone speaks swedish and can better translate the quote , please do ! it would be greatly appreciated so i can update the translation and i'll be sure to credit you for it !!💓