#get us close enough in appearance and the audience can figure it out

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

How could you translate Katniss' internal thoughts to screen?

If you become the screenwriter for the new adaptation, what would you do?

Are there any movies or tv series which have good example of this type of narration?

Thank you 😊

@curiousnonny

Oh tough question @curiousnonny. I've literally been sitting on this one for at least a year because I've been trying to figure out how the heck I would translate more of her internal thoughts to the screen. I will say this...

I have such mixed feelings about what Gary Ross and company decided to do for the films. I get why they did it, but man did it suck at times. What I mean by that is, they turned Katniss and Peeta into The Watson character. By that, I mean that in the original Sherlock Holmes stories, Watson's role was primarily to ask questions and doubt Sherlock's theories in order to give Sherlock a chance to explain what happened and show off his so called "genius."

Haymitch has to explain certain things about the Games to Katniss and Peeta that, in the books, THEY ALREADY KNOW because they live in this world and are not idiots. And the thing is, the movies showed that the film makers DID grasp the concept of how to show us a little and trust the audience to figure out the rest. Gale's thirty second rant in the woods about "What if everyone just stopped watching... It's sick. You root for your favorites and cry when they die" (paraphrase). Movie!Gale tells us something about the Games that we get from Katniss's internal thoughts in the books. And that is that while the districts hate the Games...they partake in them. Katniss tells us about how people in 12 ENGAGE in the betting. It's become a cultural thing so that even though there are people who know the tributes, even though it might one day be you or your sweetheart or your child in the arena, the Games are STILL treated as a form of entertainment on some level...even in the districts. And Katniss knows this, which the movie shows when she tells Gale "That'll never happen" (another paraphrase).

There's also the odds board that we see very briefly in the Capitol. Now we the audience know, just from those handful of seconds, that there's wagering on the Games, without Katniss telling us. More brief scenes like that would help with the world building.

Which leads me to... it works better as a tv series. It's written by a television writer and the story is blocked and paced like a tv series. And I cannot believe that I am saying this, knowing that it winds up being so hated by so many of the fans by the final season, but Game of Thrones the tv series, at least in the first season, did a phenomenal job of translating an entire book to screen. I've only read one book and watched two seasons, so I cannot speak to later seasons/books, but wow. Just... do THAT with The Hunger Games. The added length of a tv series gives you the advantage of more scenes and less of the book being cut out. You have the luxury of included so many of the characters that got cut from the movies, which all of that will naturally bring more of Katniss's thoughts and feelings, and understanding of her world, to the forefront.

But you can't stop there, you need an actress who, at a rather young age, can tell an entire story in just a few facial expressions to play Katniss. Not to bash Jennifer Lawrence because there were some parts of her portrayal of Katniss that were excellent, but I felt like her acting was hit or miss sometimes, and at others her portrayal suffered because of both the script and the editing. Sorry not sorry. So casting is key to bringing her internal thoughts to life through acting.

From there, I hate to say it, but at some point, you do have to trust your audience to be able to pick up on things. I think you do need to include a few flashbacks, but you can slow roll them. Show us Peeta giving her the bread in flashback then cut back to Katniss on stage looking slightly horrified and confused. Peeta's trying to talk to her on the train, return to the flashback and show his mother hitting him. Let current Katniss show just a flicker of guilt followed by slight annoyance and determination. You can even keep the flashback silent, if you want. Peeta's helping clean up drunk, vomit covered Haymitch and tells Katniss that he doesn't need her help and doesn't want the Capitol attendants. In her train compartment, Katniss shows us the whole thing, starting with her Mom being nonresponsive, an emaciated Prim, a picture of her father on the mantle with the black ribbon over it and a picture of the whole family next to it. Ah yes. Audience can now deduce that Katniss's father is gone and Mom's a wreck, the family is falling apart. Then give us the sound. Katniss pawing through the trash, Mrs. Mellark screaming at her, and the gift of the bread. Your audience is smart enough to take it from there.

You'd have to give us the dandelion part later on, too, but I actually think you could work that in somehow during the arena. Have Katniss find some dandelions after the girl from 8 dies. She can stare at them, cut to the flashback of the day after the bread. K&P share a look and then end it. She sees the dandelion. Prim can mention the bread, causing Katniss to look away from the dandelion, maybe ask how Katniss got it, and then Katniss goes into the woods to gather dandelions for her family to eat. Cut back to Katniss in the arena, confusion playing on her face until she remembers she's on camera and drops the mask back down. There is so much that can be done with one second of emotion that quickly changes to something else in this situation, and while they did manage some of that with Jennifer Lawrence, I don't think they used the technique to its full advantage.

The problem is that the movies were inconsistent with how they handled this problem of translating what Katniss tells us/says to us onto the screen. At times, they spoon fed us too much and did it in the form of spoon feeding information to Katniss and Peeta that they would've already known, making our protagonists look like idiots. At other times, like with the bread flashback, they didn't give us enough, so we don't understand the stakes and the significance of that moment. Fix the inconsistencies, and I actually think they were kind of on the right track with the movies, they just didn't follow through completely or effectively.

[higharollakockamamie]

I was lucky enough to get to see the Takarazuka Castlevania show and it rules!

I’m remembering some stuff out of order, and this is my first Takarazuka, so I may state the obvious if you’re more familiar with it. Details for anybody who might be interested in what if Symphony of the Night was a musical acted entirely by women, colored with my vague recollections of playing a couple of the games like 20 years ago:

It does indeed start with the famous “Die, monster! You don’t belong in this world!” intro, except with no wine glass toss, and Maria is there.

For the fight scenes, screens come down and play CGI magic effects.

Maria generally gets a lot more to do than appear for 14 seconds like she does in the game.

When somebody dies, they sink down through a trapdoor. The stage in general is super cool, with a ton of different backdrops, a huge revolving table, and nice use of the whole thing from front to back.

There are backup dancers all in black with capes they swoosh around so they look like bats and I love them so much.

French Revolution time! We’ve got dancing revolutionaries and Robespierre, who I was absolutely not expecting in this play about Dracula. Shaft the wizard is there.

We get a flashback of Dracula going on his business trip. While he’s gone, Lisa tells Alucard that in her research she’s found a cure for vampirism that she’ll give Vlad as soon as he comes back. But then, she gets burnt as she calls out to Alucard that her last wish is for him not to hate humans and for him to keep Dracula from taking revenge. We see little!Alucard here, and he uses chichiue and hahaue to his parents.

Robespierre gets betrayed by Shaft and the revolutionaries turn on him, killing him, which Shaft uses to revive Dracula. If anybody ever asks you about Robespierre’s downfall, tell them it was for wizard reasons.

Annette gets kidnapped as bait to bring Richter to the castle. Richter gets a song to the tune of Bloody Tears, which rules. Then he gets brainwashed by Shaft.

Present Alucard travels through a village where they’re having a festival and singing a catchy song about how this once a year, on the night of the full moon, lost loved ones come back to visit. Alucard meets Maria here, who remembers that he saved her from vampires years ago when she was little. She remembers she asked him his name and he said, “One such as me has no name,” which she thought was badass. They go their separate ways.

I forget if it’s around here, but at some point they learn about Dracula being back, and Maria says that if Alucard won’t come with her, she’ll go to the castle alone.

Alucard finds a little girl in the woods, who says her papa was taken by the Revolution. He takes her to some nuns and an abbot, where he runs into Maria again. Some monsters, who are dancers in cool layered flowing red, attack. Maria and Alucard fight them off, but the abbot is freaked out, declares anybody who can fight those monsters must not be human, and throws them out.

Alucard and Maria get attacked by a lackey vampire, who they defeat, but not before he bites Maria and vampirizes her.

Alucard takes her back to his sweet bachelor pad, which has a drawing of Lisa on the wall. When Maria wakes up they talk about Lisa, and Alucard remembers the vampirism cure that must be somewhere in her laboratory.

They fly there, as shown on the screens. Maria falls once and Alucard catches her romantically.

The laboratory music is Dance of Gold, which is cool. They find Lisa’s journal, but not the cure. They conclude Dracula must keep it close.

Maria’s vampirism takes over and she does a kickass evil laugh before attacking Alucard with her four beasts, which are represented through the screens at first, then by dancers in white. Alucard fights them off and she returns to normal. She gives him the holy glasses, which are opera glasses he gazes at the audience through until she tells him that just having them works.

Alucard runs into a robed and hooded figure who shows him the world of the dead, which has angelic dancing figures with candles. Robespierre is there and gets a speech about how he was trying to save France. Hi Robespierre.

Then we see Lisa at the stake, but she urges Alucard to kill all the humans. Yep, the figure was the succubus. He sees through it and fights her.

There’s a fight with Richter, where the mind control is represented as a green orb floating on the screens. Richter gets Alucard on his knees and wraps his whip around his neck, which, hot. Alucard breaks free and destroys the mind control orb, bringing Richter to his senses.

Alucard confronts Dracula and they fight, Alucard insisting that Lisa wouldn’t want him to wreak revenge on humanity. Alucard wins, but can’t bring himself to kill his father, and throws his sword away. Shaft takes the opportunity to attack Alucard, and Dracula defends his son and kills the wizard. Dracula gives Alucard the vampirism cure.

Then Dracula asks Alucard to finish him off and send him to be with Lisa, which he does, in a scene that was sad but also charming because of Dracula dying very carefully so that he’d land on the trapdoor.

Maria gets unvampired.

There’s the scene from the end of Symphony of the Night where all the good guys part, except with the addition of Alucard telling Richter to go to Paris to rescue that little girl’s father, so I guess Richter gets a stint as the Scarlet Pimpernel. Alucard goes off and Maria runs after him.

But then we get one more scene! Maria finds Alucard at a grave he’s made for Dracula, where she prays. We see Dracula and Lisa looking on. Then there’s a romantic bit where Alucard wraps his cape around Maria, which is sweet, and they go off together.

All in all it was great, the music was great, the costumes were great, I loved it. I wish I could see it again immediately. I’m definitely gonna see more Takarazuka if I get the chance.

[five-rivers]

Polychrome Pronoia

This is the first entry of the first of my two experimental audience participation fics. Participation instructions are below the fic segment.

Warning tags: none so far!

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The creation of a ghostly lair has certain requirements.  

Firstly, a ghost must linger there, making it their exclusive home.

Secondly, the ghost must stake their claim to the area, defending it against other ghosts or otherwise marking it.

Thirdly, the area must be sufficiently saturated in ectoplasm.  Indeed, the ratio of saturation must be several times higher than that of so-called haunts, which are as close as ghosts can get to a lair in the real world. 

Usually.

It should be said that there was nothing usual about the city of Amity Park, or the ghost that lived there.

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Danny liked to stargaze from the top of the Ops Center.  

When he was younger, it hadn’t been a very good spot to see anything except the moon.  Light pollution bad enough to defeat the moon would have been bad for other reasons.  Like imminent blindness.  Even so, the neon Fentonworks sign and the lights from the city made seeing anything except the moon, the brightest stars, and sometimes the planets impossible.  

But once he’d died, that changed.  

The stars didn’t get brighter, and the light pollution didn’t get less bad, but ghosts, as it turned out, had better low-light vision than humans, and saw colors just slightly differently.   It still wasn’t as good as some of the pictures from dark-sky areas Danny had seen, but he could make out constellations, and, with his telescope, even some Messier objects.  And his vision seemed to get better over time, growing with his power levels.

Sam and Tucker came with him, sometimes.  He knew that they probably couldn’t see anything, past the glare of the Fentonworks sign and the lights on in the house, but it was very nice of them to humor him, to do this when he wanted to hang out but didn’t want to go out.  It filled him with a sense of bubbly companionship.  

“What are you talking about?” asked Tucker, laying next to Danny on the blanket.  “I can see stuff just fine.”

“I mean, other than, like, Vega,” said Danny, pointing.  “Vega’s pretty bright.”

“No,” said Sam, slowly.  She was on the other side of Danny.  “I don’t know about Tucker, but I can see constellations and stuff.  The ones you pointed out to us before.  Cassiopeia, the Big Dipper, and all that.”

“The Big Dipper is technically an asterism,” corrected Danny automatically.  “Not a constellation.  But you…  I thought the light pollution would be too bad for you to see anything.”

Sam shrugged, her shoulders pulling slightly at the blanket.  “The light pollution has gotten better since we started doing this, but I just figured that the city put in those anti-light pollution shades on the street lights or something.”  She made a face.  “I haven’t been keeping up with that kind of thing as well as I’d like.”

“They haven’t,” said Danny.  “I used to send letters before Vlad took over.  After that, there didn’t seem to be a point.”

“Yeah, he sucks at his job,” agreed Sam.  “Did you know, some people went through and tallied up all his appearances at his businesses and stuff, and he only barely meets the residency requirement for being mayor?  He’s probably here even less than they think because of the ghost stuff.  Running around cloning people has to take up a lot of time.”

“Well, I mean,” said Danny, distracted, “he might be here more than they think, too, since he can just… fly home.”

“I don’t know,” said Tucker.  “Does that sound like something he’d do when he’s got a comfy private jet?”

“Probably not.”

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Thank you for reading this far! If you would like to participate, please reply to this post with what you want to happen or want to see in the fic next. This can be an event (e.g. the lab suddenly explodes), a character appearing (e.g. Wes, Sam, Undergrowth), a headcanon being added to the story (e.g. ghost hunger), a POV switch (e.g. switch to Jazz), a setting element (e.g. the year is 2104), a ship (e.g. Everlasting Trio), or something else I've forgotten to list here. You can even just say to continue the scene as is!

To be used in the poll, your suggestions must:

Fit in a poll option (80 charaters or less)

Not include crossover elements

Not include minor/adult ships

Be compatible with already established story elements

Other feedback is also welcome! Feel free to send me an ask!

[hypostatic-oath]

Hydro Archon, Hydro Archon, Don't Cry

I've noticed a pattern with 5star characters in my game - they only come home after I've done their story quest or at least the Archon Quest where they appear. From an in-game perspective it's obviously because it takes me a while to finish the quest and I raise the pity in the meantime, however... from a SAGAU perspective, it's adorable that they only come around after I've spent the time to get to know them better.

Content Warnings: Angst, Furina desperately needs a hug.

SPOILERS FOR 4.2 BELOW

Imagine Furina before the Archon Quest. She's holding it together, like she has been for five hundred years. She's been performing her role so well for so long, yet she feels like she's already gone beyond her limit. She doesn't know how long she can handle doing this for, but she knows she must.

Late at night, she takes a break to catch some air. She's aware that she's still performing - she's alone, but she cannot risk lowering her mask, even before an invisible audience. She takes a deep breath and looks up, and doesn't even feel the tears flowing down her face.

A shimmering light crosses the sky.

Foçalors, it beckons. Come home.

Oh no. Not this. She's not ready, she's not ready! Not tonight. She tells herself she'll answer your summons tomorrow. In truth, she doesn't feel worthy of answering. What if she's not what you expect?

That isn't even a question. She knows she's not what you expect.

She knows you have other Archons - real Archons - among your Vessels. She panics - she doesn't even have a Vision, much less an Archon's authority. There's only so much she can achieve with acting. What would she do when you took her out on the battlefield and she inevitably failed?

Come on... Another shooting star crosses the sky, your voice a faint, ethereal whisper in her ears. I need an Archon team...

It fills her with dread. She can't answer your summons! She absolutely can't! Not only would she disappoint you - because there's no way she wouldn't, surely, she can't imagine a world in which you are not disappointed once you figure out just what she is, a fraud who can't even use Hydro much less be the literal Archon - she'd also jeopardize her only purpose.

She rushes inside, back to her room, closes the shutters and the window and the curtains and almost leaps into bed, placing the covers over herself as if to shield herself from the world.

She can still hear you calling.

The next day, Poisson is struck. The prophecy is in full swing. She's frantic, searching for something, anything that could possibly help. All the while maintaining the façade. At least you seem to have given up.

It's both relieving and heartbreaking.

At night, she doesn't even risk it - her windows are kept shut. She analises every report, and locks her door when she notices that she's crying, the papers she's holding becoming dotted with tears that fall despite her best efforts. She can hear the rain hitting her window, and the downpour has her feeling even more hopeless.

Neuvillette speaks with her in the following morning. If the pressure from you wasn't enough, she now also has to manage to assure the Hydro Dragon Sovereign that she has everything under control. It's funny, how those eyes capable of such gentleness seem to gaze into her without a shred of mercy. Just speaking to him now feels like she's been put on trial, and Furina knows, deep down in her soul, that she is guilty.

He presses. Poisson has fallen. She knows. She also knows she's likely crying, the mask is slipping, but she can't give up. She has no right - no right at all, to sacrifice the lives of every person in Fontaine for the sake of her comfort. She cannot afford to slip up. And that means she cannot trust anyone - not you, and not Neuvillette. So she gathers the little control she can at this time, tells him she knows exactly what she's doing, and dashes out the door.

Wait, Furina!

She barely hears your voice as she runs. "I'm sorry, but I can't answer!" She thinks, as she rushes to the top floor of the Palais Mermonia. She knows she gas no time to lose. She needs to get herself in check, to wipe away her tears, to figure something out. Where had she gone wrong? Five hundred years, searching for a solution. Five hundred years of observing every trial, hoping it'll finally be the one she needs. But nothing.

She has nothing, and Poisson has fallen.

She thought the Traveler - and you, by extension - would be the key. That by judgding them she'd have the "most magnificent trial" that her mirror self spoke of. And yet, at every turn, the blonde outlander had managed to evade being sentenced, or even making the trial as grand as she'd expected. She paces around in her room as she mulls it over. Should she had judged you directly? Could she have done so? That would've been a trial for the ages - the Overseer, brought to justice by the Hydro Archon of Fontaine, for the crime of... what could she even accuse you of? Posessing people's bodies? That had to be illegal - or at least immoral enough to warrant a trial...

She lets her body flop onto the bed, covering her eyes with one arm as she lets out a sigh that despite its overdramatic appearance, is in fact incredibly genuine. She's tired. So tired.

Foçalors, come home.

Furina buries her face beneath one of the pillows. She hopes it'll drown out the sound of your voice. She can't distinguish whether that ache in her chest is from your summons growing more insistent or from how much she needs to cry.

The shooting star turns golden outside the window, and Furina wonders if the fact that someone else intercepted it will be enough to dissuade you. She hopes it is, otherwise, her days are numbered.

No more stars cross the sky that night, and relief washes over her body, in a wave so intense that she once again doesn't notice the tears. She falls asleep like that, and dreams of rising waters.

Furina heads to the Opera Epiclese in the morning. She's not looking forward to seeing Neuvillette, but she prays that there'll be a trial. "Please," she thinks, as she sits down in the throne reserved for the Hydro Archon, observing the stage from on high, "let it be today."

It isn't. Instead of a trial, there is a performance... and though she usually loves them, now is not the time. Worse yet, she's spotted by the crowd as she's getting ready to leave. They're angry, of course they are. The prophecy is true, and what is their Archon doing? Furina performs as best as she can, but this time the audience is completely unreceptive. She doesn't blame them. She'd be angry, too, in their shoes. She knows they're terrified. She's terrified, too.

But what can she do? Her search has turned up empty. She has no powers, not really, none besides the power of persuasion and even that seems to be slipping more and more these days. She cannot reassure her people. Neuvillette no longer trusts her, if he ever did. The water rises every day with no signs of stopping.

"Why, mirror-me? Where am I failing?"

The crowd chases her out of the theater. Neuvillette is nowhere in sight, and even if he were, Furina isn't sure she could call upon him now. The time in which he acted as her shield if gone. Neuvillette is now just another of the many she's disappointed.

It hurts.

With no other choice, she runs - as far as her legs will take her, she dashes away from the crowd, and guilt tells her she's being a coward. That she needs to stand up and reassure the masses, that she needs to do what an Archon would at that time.

The notion feels almost ridiculous. She cannot command her element freely like Barbatos, or raise protections over her city like Morax. She cannot threaten to strike down the unruly like the Shogun, nor does she have Lesser Lord (Lesser Lord! Hah! Even someone known as 'Lesser' is leagues beyond Furina's ability) Kusanali's foresight and wisdom.

So she does what she can do.

Whether it is fate or simply her own feelings of guilt, she finds herself in Poisson, at the base of the Spina di Rosula. The place where all those people - her people - had lost their lives to a disaster she was supposed to prevent.

When the Traveler extends their hand, she doesn't know whether it is a blessing or a curse. She wants to run again - what else can she do? But her pursuers are apparently still giving chase, and the outlander offers her aid. She can feel your presence from within them - every time she's crossed paths with them, as brief as those moments were, you were there. She can tell that the longing in the blonde's eyes is, at least in part, yours.

She's sorry.

She follows the Traveler to the hiding place - someone's home? It seems irrelevant. For a moment, she wonders if she could sue you for invasion of private property. "Oh, what am I thinking? The time for the grand trial is over... and even if it weren't, suing the Overseer for something so trivial would warrant the same result as the first time I challenged the Traveler..."

The Traveler. The outlander whose presence preceeded disaster. They were known for solving it, sure, but she knew that the moment they set foot in Fontaine the prophecy would have already started. Was it their fault, or yours?

Furina still feels like it might be hers.

The Traveler offers help once again. They extend their hand, and the look in their eyes as they ask her to confide in them is so earnest, so genuine. She swars she can hear two sets of voices saying the words - the Traveler's, and yours. It's faint, and gentle, and pained, and carries a yearning she knows she cannot fix.

Through them, you reach for her and she almost breaks. She knows you'll stop reaching once you know the truth.

Furina, please. You can trust us, love. Let me- let us help. People from your world cannot know, but neither of us fit that criteria. Your people will not dissolve, I promise you. I've seen enough worlds to know.

She considers it.

She hears your voice, and considers it. But there is uncertainty in your tone. You're gambling, and she's a good enough actress to know you're not sure yourself. They wouldn't do it, that's your reasoning. Furina doesn't know who 'they' are, but you're placing all your bets on the fact that 'they' would not erase an entire Nation. Who are 'they'? Celestia? If so, she knows for certain that your wager is more optimistic than based on facts. It's not enough - blind optimism is not enough for her to risk it, not even from a being like you. Besides, that is not her choice to make.

She cannot give up. She cannot lower her guard. Not with Neuvillette, not with the Traveler, not with you. The Traveler urges her for a response, reaches out, and she's about to deny them, when the house's walls fall.

Damn it, we needed more time! Furina, I'm so sorry.

She feels your sorrow about at the same time that she feels the spotlight on her.

Neuvillette looks down from his seat as the Chief Justice, and somehow the sliver of pity in his eyes hurts more than the coldness of a few days prior.

She's on trial.

________

She's crying.

She's not even making an effort to conceal it anymore. It's over. The curtains have closed and everything she worked so hard for has crumbled. The people know. Neuvillette knows. You know. Furina makes no effort to hear your voice. She knows you're disappointed.

If she did, perhaps she'd hear how you're screaming at the Traveler to go check on her. If she did, perhaps she'd hear how despite everything, you're reaching out, still. How you wish to hold her tight, as she deserves. She'd perhaps hear your outrage at the thought of her being subjected to the death sentence, she'd hear you trying to tear Neuvillette apart for allowing it, she'd hear you slowly realising that the fact that the sentence is addressed to the Hydro Archon means it's not her who dies.

She doesn't witness your relief.

Instead, it is you who gain an understanding of her thoughts. The Traveler reaches for her, and she can feel you pushing through, but she can't stop performing. Even now, she's still holding it, as much as she can.

You tear through her defenses with more ease than she expected. Furina had, until now, thought of you as detached. She knew you saw the world as a stage, a story for your amusement. Sure, you liked them, but only to the extent that one likes characters in a play, right? You were, as far as she knew, exactly the type of god - or, er, entity? - she emulated. Fickle. Boastful. Using lives as entertainment, watching trials and tribulations like a performance and solving the Nations' troubles like nothing more than a game. She had not expected you to care.

Not about her.

Not after knowing the truth.

You push forward. She knows it's you, and not the Traveler, who's in control. She can feel it, the intensity with which you reach out is the same she felt tugging at her very being every time a star crossed the sky. She knows it's you who's still trying to reach her. Even if she's failed.

Even if she's not capable of being in your Archon Team.

So she sighs, and lets you witness. That is your role, after all, isn't it? An audience of one, watching an interactive play. You haven't given up on her character, even though it's not what you expected. You're not what she expected, either. Funny, she finds herself thinking, you're both more human than anyone realised.

You witness her life. She lets it play out like a film before your eyes, the endless stream of memories of growing hopelessness as she realised that the prophecy was slowly setting itself up and she was not any closer to finding out how to stop it. Now you know - the truth, the whole truth. She has nothing left to lose now, anyway. Everything is lost. She was unmasked. She failed.

You're pushed out of her thoughts after she invites you to take your place on stage. You act in her memory, but this time the Traveler doesn't speak. You barely have time to state your piece - all you manage is an I'm sorry before being forced away. She has nothing more to share. That is enough, she figures, and far more than she ever thought she'd share. She still feels the urge to cry, but part of it is from relief.

After that, she doesn't feel your presence until after the flood.

The prophecy comes and goes and Fontaine is unharmed. The flood lasts no more than minutes, and no one is dissolved. Furina remembers your words - 'they' wouldn't do that. Though she is unsure as to 'their' identity, she is thankful that you were right. The sunlight feels like bliss upon her skin as she steps out of the Opera Epiclese, gentle rays drying the remaining water from the streets and the tears on her cheeks, and for the first time in five hundred years she breathes easy.

"They're still hoping you'll come." A familiar voice pulls her out of her trance. The Traveler, alone, stands behind her. Your presence is nowhere near. They look the same, yet different, without you within. Furina can't quite explain it, but it feels odd after being so used to seeing you within the outlander.

"I'm not an Archon." She answers, a certain bitterness in her voice as she looks down, defeated.

"I don't think they care. I know you need to rest for now, and they don't have enough primos for a ten pull anyways, but... just so you know. They'll keep trying."

Furina doesn't quite know whether that is meant as a warning or as an opportunity presenting itself. They're gone before she can ask. Either way, they're right - she is tired, and she does need rest. Out of instinct, she heads to the Palais Mermonia, but stops herself as she reaches for the door.

"Lady Furina." The gentle, deep voice she knows as belonging to the Iudex pulls her from her thoughts. She doesn't dare look him in the eye. He opens the door for her, but she simply turns away. She cannot face him, not after that trial, not after everything she'd done.

"Thank you, monsieur Neuvillette. But I... I think I'll be going, now."

The now fully restored Hydro Dragon can only watch as Furina walks away. He knows she needs her space right now, but that doesn't stop him from worrying for her. He'll arrange the best apartment he can get for her, and make sure she never lacks for anything. In the meantime, though, he'll just try not to let his emotions get the best of him, lest he causes a downpour to fall upon poor Furina, who definitely does not need rain right now. If there is one thing he knows about humans is that rain does not, for the most part, cheer them up. So he holds it in, promising himself that he'll take a small break for a walk after the aftermath of everything is over, and heads to his office.

There is so much to do...

_________

Three weeks pass. Furina lays on her bed, her window open, the soft breeze bringing the smell of a night that promises rain into the apartment. She is busy, not with work, or with renovations, but with the azure glass sphere that she holds up to the light, examining it under her lamp. A Vision... during all those years, she had never thought she'd receive such a thing, much less after being pushed away from her role as the Archon. She is thankful, yes, for her newfound freedom, and, she supposes, for the fact that she'd gotten to act again. But it still remains that this bauble was completely unexpected.

Power. This little thing can give her power. She's still unsure on how to use it, and it crosses her mind that the Traveler - or you - might know. You owe her, after all, after what she did to help you out with the play... she could feel you trying to strangle the Traveler and Paimon on the astral plane and that was perhaps why she wasn't entirely offended by their remarks. Still, she had made a great effort for that play. It was only fair that at least one of you repays the favor, no?

Furina smiles softly, sighing. She'll have to put up a commission at the Guild tomorrow.

She examines the light reflecting within, and it reminds her of the surface of the sea as seen from underwater. The holder, a silvery ornament not unlike those she's seen worn by Vision-bearers, has a distinct characteristic - four fang-like details that seem to secure the glass in place. Before she can give it more thought, the first pitter patter of raindrops reaches her ears, and she rushes to retrieve the clothes hanging on the line she has in the small balcony of her apartment before they get too wet. She rushes outside, hearing as the rain and wind pick up.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it..." She mutters to herself, quickly shoving the clothes onto a basket, trying to pick them off the line as fast as she can. Behind her, a flash of light illuminates the night sky. "Oh, I am so not in the mood for thunder..."

Furina cringes, hoping the storm is not directly above. Maybe she'll be able to sleep if it's just a faraway rumbling. What she hears, however, is not the booming sound of a storm.

Furina. Come home.

You're still trying. For a moment, she forgets about the heavy rain, and the clothes, and simply looks up at the sky. Blue flashes, one after the other, cross the clouds in rapid succession. Even after everything, you hadn't given up. The Traveler had warned her, but at the time she hadn't been in a stable enough state of mins to even care, still shaken from everything that had happened.

Now, she simply looks up.

"Overseer." She answers. You won't be able to add her to the 'Archon Team'. She knows she's not as powerful as most of your Vessels - hell, she doesn't even know how to use her Vision yet. But you still want her.

You know the truth - the whole truth - and you still want her.

The next star that crosses the sky turns gold, and glows brighter and brighter until it lands in front of her, hovering above the railing on her balcony. It emits a soft, warm light, and Furina reaches for it like she'd reached for her Vision.

Warmth spreads over her body, and it feels like every time she'd looked at the Traveler with you in them, except everything feels more... intense. It's not like she's seeing the filtered bits of you that shine through the cracks in someone else, no. She can feel you directly, and she understands why they call it 'coming home'. It's warm. It's comfortable. And for the first time she can truly, honestly say she doesn't feel alone.

You're happy she's there. Time seems to stop around her, and she finds herself dry and in a field full of stars. If she squints, she can barely make out a form, a swirling swarm of stardust in the vague shape of a person. She reaches a hand out.

You place the cursor over her outstretched hand.

Welcome home, Furina.

[gffa]

TALES OF THE EMPIRE wound up being a mixed bag for me, there was a lot I enjoyed but there was a lot that just felt really unfulfilled. Morgan's episodes were very pretty to look at but I couldn't help thinking--the entire time I was watching, even--that Filoni's not great at creating new characters that can carry entire episodes like this, none of this felt particularly necessary or like it was fulfilling a void that I wanted to know more about. It doesn't help that I still think her arc in live action was badly handled, that if she was meant to be a Nightsister from the beginning, her first episode should have dealt with that, instead of springing it on us later, so when filling in the background of her on Dathomir in TOTE, it brings all that up for me again.

Morgan's first episode was so pretty and it was interesting to potentially get more Dathomir lore (even if it's incredibly thin and I felt it was too close to the "we see others suffering in the galaxy, but we don't want to get our own hands dirty by fighting for other people or getting involved in helping others, btw we're morally better for that :)" trope for me personally) but everything on Corvus just felt superfluous to me and I spent time trying to figure out why I felt that way. If they had done her story this way or that way, would I have enjoyed it more? If they had included this or that, would I have thought it more necessary?

And ultimately I just kept coming back to that I don't really care about Morgan Elsbeth enough that I wanted three animated shorts dedicated to her, when I could have had so many other characters get fleshed out better. I appreciated that they were showing two characters on opposite journeys, that Morgan was falling into the dark step by step, while Barriss was slowly clawing her way out of it, but that's about all that I appreciated of Morgan's story (other than the beautiful animation).

But I'm not sure I feel like Morgan's motivations were all that well planned out. It's clear that she's looking for revenge and trying to find a new family at the same time, but it's not really clear why she's working with the Empire or how she thinks this leads her to her goals. Grievous is the one who murdered her village, how does working with the Empire (as the Separatists were folded into the Empire, too) achieve that goal? Who or what is her revenge focused on? Is it that she just wants the whole galaxy to burn, because if her village burned, so should everyone else? I feel like that's probably what they were going for, but that it could have been more coherently written.

Barriss' episodes hit a lot harder, where I'm glad that she at least got an arc, but I feel like it just missed so many marks, like why even have Vader there, I'm all for gratuitous Anakin cameos, he's my trash can man and I'm always excited to see him, but absolutely nothing was done with him, despite that he was looking Barriss right in the face there. Not even a moment of showing the audience, "Oh, his soul is so far into the dark of fear, hate, and rage that he doesn't even care about her anymore." Just nothing there, like there was no connection at all. How do you go to the lengths of putting Vader in a scene with Barriss and then treat it like there's no history between her and Anakin??? So completely unsatisfying!

And then it's another series where other guest appearances would have made sense--Barriss has a whole unfinished story with Ahsoka and you don't include her here? I'm as tired of Filoni putting Ahsoka in everything as anyone else, but here it would have made sense and would have brought that relationship full circle on-screen, Barriss' betrayal of her and her clawing her way back to the light after all the trauma and hurt, there's so much she and Ahsoka would have between them. And then nothing.

Or Barriss' relationship with Luminara, TCW never really got into how that must have felt for Luminara, to have her student betray the Jedi so profoundly, for her to fall to the dark, there's such a well of potential there and it's just entirely ignored. She mentions Luminara once and it was a lovely mention, but there's no sense of resolution or completion to that arc.

I did enjoy her story with Lyn and I try not to compare what the show wanted to do with what I wanted the show to do, but I couldn't help it. During all those scenes, all I could think was that this could have been so much more powerful and complete if it had focus on Barriss' established relationships and characters I already care about, because a new random Inquisitor is just not going to hold the same weight for me as my pre-investment in Ahsoka and Luminara. (On the other hand, with the way they butchered Luminara in the last season of TCW, maybe I dodged a bullet!)

For all that negativity, though, I really loved that Barriss found herself in being a healer again, that she found the light again. That's all I've wanted for my girl!!!! (That and put a headdress on her, ffs.) I legitimately took in a hard breath when she said, "Then you have one more Jedi to deal with." because Barriss is still working through too much to fully come back to clarity re: the Jedi at that point , but when it really came down to it, when she really saw what the dark side really was, part of her still was a Jedi. And the way she spoke of her time as a Jedi, once she had a clearer, lighter head again, was sweet, I was so surprised that we got that much from her, but I'm so glad because, if nothing else, Barriss herself deserves to be in the light again.

The way she was settled into her own skin by the time she confronted Lyn on the icy planet, the way she genuinely wanted to help her, but wouldn't let her hurt innocent children, the way she could sidestep Lyn's predictable moves and could stop the blade with just a hand held out, she found her path and what she wanted to do, and oh it was so lovely to see Barriss finding herself again. I loved so much that her unshakable compassion did reach Lyn, it was such a satisfying arc for Barriss to reach that place after all the people she'd hurt. I loved so much that Barriss getting back to this place does a lot to remind us that her foundation is a compassionate one, even if she was lost to the dark for awhile.

I just wish that there had been acknowledgement of those she hurt, the people that died because of her, the betrayal she stabbed people in the back with, rather than just "sees the dark side is bad, walks away, finds the light again", which goes back to that this feels like a generic story that's mostly impactful because I'm filling in the gaps myself because I already know Barriss as a character, rather than that it continues the story that was previously told about her.

At the end of the day, I enjoyed it and I recognize that I'm being a little unfair in how I'm saying I wanted this, this, and this, rather than digesting what the show itself wanted to do, but when you're crafting two stories that are specifically about showing us the journey of two characters that originate elsewhere, you're drawing on the stories from those other origins--except TOTE decided to only halfway do that. There's a lot to love in these shorts, the animation was incredible, the voice work was incredible, Barriss' emotional journey was incredible and I'm so thankful that they even gave her any kind of compassionate resolution. But the specter of how much the shorts ignored hangs over it too heavily for me to say that they were anywhere near what they could have been imo.

[sdr2lovemail]

Daisuke x Reader WIP that I'm not finishing

Synopsis: Daisuke angst something something idk

Notes: This is 12 pages of Daisuke fanfiction that I'm not finishing. I liked what I wrote, so I'm posting what I had!

The sun was just coming up over the horizon. Curly checks his watch anxiously. The ship was due to close its doors soon, and the crew’s IT specialist had yet to arrive. Knowing Pony Express, they would have launched them with or without everyone on board.

Just as he was about to give up and head inside, there’s the sharp sound of shoes hitting the pavement.

“Wait! I’m here!”

Skidding to a halt in front of the captain, you bound over with your hands on your knees. Panting, you offer up a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I’m late. Traffic was a nightmare.” That didn’t include the time you spent last minute packing.

Curly gives you a once over, eyeing the uniform you’ve personalized once again. “It’s your second year working here and yet you’re still violating the dress code.” There was a slight chuckle in his tone.

“I could always go back and change.” You huffed. The drab uniform of the company was simply not up to par.

Shaking his head with a sigh, you’re ushered in to the ship. “No, no, it’s fine. You’re late enough as is. Even the intern made it before you did.”

You perked up, eyes shining. “Daisuke got here before me? That sucks, I wanted to give him the tour.”

The door to the ship shuts with a sharp hiss, the internal mechanism activating the airlock and sealing everyone inside. There was no turning back as Curly punched a code into the keypad near the doorway.

“Yeah, Swansea wasn’t too thrilled to show him around,” his fingers paused. He turns to you with raised eyebrows. “You know Daisuke?”

“Of course, I know Daisuke. I helped him get this job.” Waving your captain off with a shrug, you think back a bit.

Daisuke’s mother, the sweet woman she is, wanted nothing more than the best for her son. It may have been harsh, but in her eyes, this was his doorway to bigger and better things. With his lackluster resume, she figured having you be a reference would help him get out there.

“Between you and me, I don’t think my word was enough. I’m sure she paid those suits a hefty bribe.” You confessed.

As the two of you walked down the creaky, metal halls of the ship, Curly could feel a faint headache starting to form. He pushed it back with a smile. “So, you knew we’d be having an intern before the rest of us? Why didn’t you let me know? We could’ve prepared better.”

Daisuke’s sudden appearance left the crew a bit scrambled. They were short on some supplies, only having stocked up for five people. If they had given a proper warning, perhaps he’d have a proper bed to sleep on and not a cot that Anya was able to find.

“Pony Express said they told you.” Typical.

Nearing the lounge, there’s the gruff hum of Swansea’s drawl. What interested you more was the carefree voice that responded to him. With a spring in your step, you turn the corner.

Eyes were set on you and Curly. Jimmy says nothing while Anya gives a polite wave. Arms crossed; Swansea glared over. “Finally, you’re here. Now the kid can shut up.”

The scent of coconut and ocean waves envelop you as warm, tanned arms surround you. Daisuke leans in for a soft kiss, not minding the audience made up of the crew.

Ignoring Jimmy’s disgusted, and possibly jealous, groan, Curly looks surprised. “Oh, you know Daisuke…”

“This is the Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome you talk so much about?” Anya snickered behind her hand, knowing of the longing rambles you’ve shared with her on escorts.

 Your smile shined, unashamed and proud as your arm was slung around his waist. “That’s right!”

Pulling a flustered act, Daisuke brings his hand to the back of his head to card it through hair. “Oh stop! You talk about me to your friends? I’m embarrassed!” He giggles like a girl in love, which wasn’t too far from the truth.

Childhood friends and high school sweethearts. The two of you have been together for so long. Through everything in life, Daisuke was by your side. Sneaking out to spend the night and taking joyrides. There never seemed to be a time for you to be apart.

When you put in the application for Pony Express, Daisuke sat by you with bated breath. He’d ask every day since you sent it if there was a response. The night your acceptance letter arrived, he took you out to eat, paying for anything he could.

After dropping you off, the radio shut off, he had time to think. He was happy for you, ecstatic even, but he wasn’t going to lie. He felt left behind.

Your opinion and praise and important to him. If you went off to such a professional job, would you find him less than and leave? There was a pit in his stomach at the time, feeling awful that he could even think such a thing.

The thought never left when he dropped you off for your first lift off and the following after that. With you gone for so long, he had more time to put in job applications. Rejection after rejection, his mom was getting tired.

Bags in hand, he stood in front of the towering ship. Travel like this was common, but something about it still felt so futuristic. It was amazing that he got this internship, what did he know about being a mechanic? The only thing he’s ever fixed was his Gameboy that needed new batteries.

Despite the nerves, Daisuke was going to do his best! He was here and was going to make everyone proud. His parents, his new boss, and you.

Your stomach growled as you looked towards the ceiling. Counting the bubbles in the emergency foam seemed to be the best way to pass time. The already strict meals had gotten scarce as the food supply dwindled. Swallowing your saliva will have to sustain you for now.

Daisuke was off with Swansea, Anya was with Curly, and who knew where Jimmy was. Since the crash, the IT room was nearly filled to the brim with foam. With your one surviving computer in pieces, there was nothing for you to do around the ship.

The batteries in your Walkman died a while ago. Daisuke offered to share the last three he had, but you would much rather he kept them. You could always hum the lyrics and hope you remember the lyrics.

The door to the lounge slid open. Daisuke walks in with a big stretch. Plopping himself onto his bedroll, the one he insisted on sliding next to yours, he yawned. “Boss wouldn’t budge again. I keep offering to help break through the foam, but he keeps refusing. I’ll try again tomorrow!”

There was that carefree smile. The one that brought a warm hope into your heart. Laying back, he turns to look at you with those soft, brown eyes. “We’ll get to eat tomorrow morning. Hm, or I guess whenever everyone wakes up.” He turns onto his side and brings his hand to draw patterns on your arm. “I’ll try and snag your favorite soup this time! No one can beat me at rock, paper, scissors.”

You smiled, reaching over to take his hand in your own. “That’s okay. Honestly, I’ll eat anything I’m given.”

“Come on! Pleeeaase?” Daisuke’s hands were clasped in front of him, pleading for you to agree.

“I can’t give you the code scanner. This was a onetime thing.”

Curly had been preoccupied in the cockpit and you needed to get into the IT room. For some reason access to the room was only allowed with a code scanner. Usually, you propped the door open with what was nearby to not pester your captain. Though, it seems the box you used this time gave way.

Having snuck into the empty cockpit, you were able to obtain the code scanner from Curly’s locker.

“I promise it’ll be worth it! If you’re already breaking the rules, why not finish the job?” Daisuke gave you a boyish, the gap in his teeth breaking through.

You laugh at his determination. He set on getting the sweetener packet from the kitchen. “Is it really that good? It’s just sugar, isn’t it?”

Gripping your shoulders, his tone was serious. “It’s more than just sugar. It’s the one sweet treat on this ship!” His voice fades into a whine as can practically taste that artificial sweetener on his tongue.

 You almost agreed if it wasn’t for the code scanner being ripped from your hands. Jimmy’s cigarette-stained scowl entered your vision. “You don’t have clearance to use this.”

“I needed it to get into the IT room.” There was a hint of annoyance in the back of your throat. While you always wanted to be civil with Jimmy. It felt like he always wanted to start issues.

“Next time, keep your hands off the captain’s things.” He looked down at you, not bothering to spare Daisuke a glance as he walked away.

As you lay down, hungry and tired. You wished you would’ve taken up Daisuke’s offer sooner. With Jimmy as Tulpar’s new captain, he kept that code scanner on his hip. Personally, you’d like to stay away from him as much as you could. Now more than ever.

Things felt better when you all had first boarded.

Walking along the halls, you make it to the bunks. The soft sound of humming enters the small hallway. The door closest to the hall was open. With pins borrowed from the medical room, Daisuke stands on his cot to hang up polaroids.

All the photos were marked with a date and most of them had you in the frame somehow. There were other pictures as well. Sunsets, nature, food, everything was worth capturing. He had a real talent for it. It seemed he had already snapped some photos of the ship as well. Even one with a surprised looking Anya.

Daisuke didn’t notice you enter his room, too caught up in his mind. The pushpin falls from his fingers once you spoke up.

“You decided to decorate, huh? Usually, the others live out of their suitcase.”

It was a bit of an exaggeration. Everyone brought at least one personal item from home. Anya had her books which she read often. A mix of psychology and her medical textbooks. Curly brought weights and the pillow off his bed. As much as he’d like to deny it, Swansea’s personal items were mostly photos of his family. Ever the outlier, Jimmy only brought a duffle bag that he refused to let anyone look in.

Plush lips stretch into a smile as Daisuke steps off his cot to pick up the pin. “If I’m going to be here for a year, might as well make the place feel like my bedroom.” Tacking up the last polaroid, he crashed onto the stiff cot. “it’d totally be cozier if I had an actual bed.”

Sitting next to him, you shoot him a teasing grin. “Like it matters. You’ll be in my bed before the night is over.”

“Oh, and what could that mean?” Daisuke’s voice was just as teasing. His arm was warm against your shoulders as he leaned in close. The two of you share a loving kiss. Despite the frigid air of the ship, it was plenty warm.

Swansea felt like he aged a couple of years as he watches the couple practically climb on top of each other. With a deep clear of his throat, the two of you scrambled to look a little more presentable.

“You could at least try to act professional while on the clock.” Swansea huffed, muttering something about kids these days.

Daisuke fixed his hair, though it didn’t look that different, getting up from the cot. “Totally, totally! My bad, boss.” He pulls you up next to himself, wrapping his arm snuggly around your waist.

“Is it time to launch already?” You wondered, absentmindedly leaning into your boyfriend. The hours seemed to pass too quickly for your liking. Another minute passed was another closer to being stuck in space.

Like the stars you were about to reach, Daisuke lit up. “We’re actually going to space. This might be dope for real!”

You’re quickly pulled through the halls. Daisuke runs around, not sure which room he was looking for. “Daisuke, wait! You don’t know where you’re going!”

Behind the two of you rushing away was Swansea left in the dust. He could only hope the rest of the trip wouldn’t be like this.

The axe in your hands heaved one final time. A lone computer finally free from a stubborn chunk of safety foam. A drunken Swansea watched as you chipped away. It was a bit of a struggle to get the axe away from him. With quite a bit of pleading, you were able to get it from him. You knew these computers more than the others. Where to strike without ruining the technology further.

Daisuke stood the closest to your chair, eyeing the small monitor and hoping to help you find something useful. A bit father back was Anya and Swansea. There was a deep pit of dread filling Anya’s stomach. She was nervous about something impending, but just couldn’t pinpoint what. The chance of you finding anything useful sobered Swansea up a bit. However, he still clutched a bottle of mouthwash just in case.

Your eyes scanned diligently, lines of words blending in front of your tired eyes. Lack of proper sleep and food muddling the way you think. But, with one of your computers finally free from the thick wall of foam.

“You really think there will be something useful?” Jimmy rested against the doorframe, the green glow highlighting his eyebags. “For all we know nothing in here works anymore.”

The pit in Anya’s stomach grew deeper.

“There’s still a chance, Jimmy.” Your fingers work over the worn keys with diligence. There had to be something. You were tired of wallowing if there was a sliver of hope shining through the dark clouds above you. “Just let me work.”

“Last time we poked around…” Anya eyes the mouthwash in Swansea’s hand.

“This could be good! Maybe we’ll find a message from corporate?” Daisuke nudged you.

After long loading times and sorting through countless files and links, there was something. A report with a date after Tulpar’s departure. “Oh my god, I found something.”

Jimmy was quick to nudge his way through, wide eyes scanning the screen. “Shit… Read it, hurry up.”

Your mouth was dry as you read the document.

‘Export company “Pony Express” announced bankruptcy. With the return of their final cargo ship “Stellar,” the CEO may now close its doors and open a new chapter of opportunity. The city will miss the cheery face of their equestrian mascot, “Polle.”’

The room was tense, heavy, and suffocating. No one dares to speak, threatening to break the fragile peace that was left on board. The last sliver of hope shattering before your eyes, the words read from your own lips.

“No one,” Anya covers her mouth with her hand. “Is looking for us.” Her body shakes and it feels like bile is about to rise in the back of her throat.

Swansea knew it was pointless, he pops open the cap of mouthwash, taking deep gulps. As far as anyone knew, this ship was floating to hell with no way to get off.

“There must be something else. We… we can’t just give up now guys. What if they, like, didn’t want to worry our families?” Daisuke tried to keep up with his usual cheery tone, but could he even convince himself at this point?

You took in a nervous gulp, moving your shaking fingers to the keyboard. “Right, there could be another,” the sound of smashing glass was deafening. You jumped out of the chair as a fist contacted the screen of the computer. Daisuke pulled you back, shielding your body with his arm.

Almost animalistic, was Jimmy slamming his bleeding knuckles into the monitor. With every punch came another frustrated and angry yell. He didn’t stop until the monitor shot sparks. Blood speckled the dingy white of his undershirt, dripping down to stain the floor.

Labored breathing leaves his lips before he turned to look at the rest of the crew. “Like I could have guessed, this was a waste of our time.” Jimmy’s eyes scanned the various looks surrounding him, ranging from disgruntled to downright horrified.

“Don’t look at me like that. Just like with every problem you all make, I’ll fix this. I can fix it.” He mutters while he slinks down the hallway.

A gag rises from her throat as Anya rushes out of the wrecked IT room. She didn’t know where she was heading, but it had to be anywhere but there.

The rest of your day was spent struggling to salvage any more tech. Lost in your own world, you never noticed Swansea or Daisuke leave the room. Not even when Daisuke kissed your cheek.

Poor Daisuke was left alone after his countless attempts to pull you from the room failed. Eventually, he never came back in.

By the time you decided to give up, night began to fall, if the heavy feeling in your body was anything to go by. Shuffling through the halls was like a graveyard. Dead and lifeless. No crew in sight or the peppy beat of Swansea’s playlist.

Sliding open the door to the lounge, Anya and Daisuke were tucked away in their bedrolls. Swansea and Jimmy were nowhere to be seen, but you could figure where the mechanic was. Drowning himself in mouthwash all while guarding the utility room.

Your legs felt like they were filled with lead as you dropped yourself onto the makeshift bed. Covering yourself with the poor excuse of a blanket, you curl up against Daisuke’s back.

Trembling. That’s what you felt.

Listening closely for a moment, stifled, choked breathing followed. Urgency shot through you. You sat up, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Daisuke, baby? Are you crying?”

He flinched, not expecting you to speak. The silence hung in the air for a while, unwanted and strangely loud. His sniffles were the only thing you could hear. He didn’t want to say anything, hoping you’d just ignore him and go to bed. He was supposed to be carefree Daisuke, not someone that brings the mood down.

Your hand trails up to his face, guiding their way to brush his hair from his damp face. “Please, tell me what’s wrong. Let me help you.”

“It’s nothing!” He rushed out too harshly for his liking. Rising from his side, he scrubs his eyes with his wrist, tone much softer this time. “I’m just a little… spent right now. But, come tomorrow, I’ll be back to full-power Daisuke!” There was an attempt at laughing, however strained it came out.

His mannerisms were skittish like a small animal, avoiding looking at you.

“Daisuke…”

Shoulder’s shaking, his head slightly turns your way. From how puffy his eyes, or rather eye, were, it was clear that he had been crying for a while. His cheeks were splotchy and red, while his eyes were glassy.

“Talk to me, please. You’re usually so open with me.” Your hands were as soft as silk, guiding his body to turn.

Daisuke keeps his head low, not daring to look over at you, lest his poorly kept composure cracks beyond repair. “My feelings are like super messed up right now.” His voice was weak and small. “I want to talk to you. But it’s like if I do, my heart will explode out of my chest and spill all over you.”

Simply thinking brought a fresh wave of tears to Daisuke’s eyes. Seeing his grief made your heart clench and pull. You felt responsible. You helped him get this job. You helped him back his bags. You talked about how fun it could be to traverse space together. And it would be on you for his disappearance.

Comfort him. That was all your mind could focus on. Every tear that pooled down his cheek was another reason for you to feel awful. It wasn’t the soundest way of thinking, but what else was there? Even the most optimistic of the crew was showing his threads. Unwinding and unraveling before you and yet still trying not to worry anyone.

Your chest pressed against his back while your arms wrapped over his shoulders. Tucking your head against his neck, still wet with tears, you whisper to him. “It’s okay. We don’t have to talk right now. I’m sorry for not being here with you while you felt this way.” You rock his body from side to side. A gesture he was always fond of.

Another round of hushed sobs cut through Daisuke’s throat. He tried to speak but the lump in his throat kept him from letting out anything beside strangled whines.

You felt hopeless. It felt like there was nothing you could do besides listening to his despair. No further words were shared between the two of you. The hours melted together as you slipped in and out of consciousness. At some point in the night, Daisuke curled away from your arms.

You’re the one that helped get him this job.

Soft breathing and the gentle brushing of hair rang tenderly through your bunk. Sleep begs to take you into her arms but all you want to do is play with your boyfriend’s bleached hair. Daisuke’s soft murmur pulls you from the brink of rest.

“I wonder if mom’s thinking about me.” With the quiet tone of his voice, it was like that was a sentence more for himself. “I’m all the way up in space, how wild is that?”

Your fingers pause, shifting your position to look up at him. “I’m sure she is.” You reassured, a small, sleepy smile stretching against your lips. “I bet she’s enjoying the peace and quiet.” Teasing snickers left your lips.

“Yeah, not having to check the mail every day for my packages.” He joked back. Online shopping would get him hooked like a vice. He says the convenience is way too convenient, whatever that means.

You turn yourself to lay on your stomach, meeting his honeyed eyes. “She’s probably counting the days for you to get back. I’m sure she misses you a lot.”

“I bet. It felt like straight torture when you would leave for your hauls.” Daisuke reached to play with your face, tracing your features with the tips of his fingers. “Doesn’t the thought make you sad? Poor Daisuke, left on earth with no one to kiss him and go shopping and spend the night.”

“The horror!” You laughed. The space between the two of you closed, your lips peppering kiss after kiss against his skin. “I missed you every time I had to leave. But it’s nice to know you were always thinking about me.”

Daisuke’s lips go straight for your neck, nipping and kissing a trail down. The neck was such an intimate place. Any chance he got, it’s his ideal place to love. There’s just something so sacred about it. He couldn’t get enough.

Taking a moment to rest his head against your shoulder, Daisuke mumbles into your skin. “Mom will probably insist you come over after the trip. She’ll probably make too much food and you’ll be leaving with a mountain of leftovers again.” A yawn escaped into the air.

“I would kill someone to eat her cooking again.” You mumbled, falling asleep yourself.

Before you drifted off, there was a final sentence spoken in a small voice. “I hope she’s not worried.”

The bottle of mouthwash was clutched tightly in your hand. Mouthwash? That’s it? Your life was worth a bottle of mouthwash. Lost and drifting in space with possibly no chance of returning to Earth, all because of a minty hygiene product.

Swansea had pulled Daisuke away and Anya holed herself up in medical. There was no one to confide in. Trapped with your own thoughts. Alone. Drifting away. The bottle of mouthwash feels heavy in your hands. A sip couldn’t hurt.

“How ya feeling?” Eyes, unfocused and blurry, make out the shape of Jimmy. He takes the bottle from your hands, giving it a small shake. “Hm, you’ve drained the thing.”

The backrest of the couch cradles your pounding head. Your brows furrow as you close your eyes. “What’s it matter to you? You’ve drank it.”

Jimmy tossed the bottle next to you, crossing his arms. “What good is a ship if it’s captain doesn’t check in with his crew?”

“You’re not the captain, Jimmy.”

“Oh, and Curly is?” He gets closer to you, the smell of mint on his breath. “In case you forgot, he tried to kill us! So, I have to take the role of captain. I do more around here than any of you. It seems I’m the only one pulling my weight around here.”

You couldn’t muster the strength to open your eyes. “I don’t believe that.”

Jimmy’s eyes widened. “What? You think I’m not working hard?” His face pulls into a scowl.

“I don’t believe that Curly’s the one that crashed the ship. What motive could he possibly have?” While Jimmy knew Curly longer, this just felt wrong. He seemed like a stable man, could the birthday party have upset him that much?

A magazine falls to the ground. A hand reached to cup the back of bleached hair. “Yeow!” Daisuke flips around on the couch, looking up at you standing above him.  Rolls of streamers were held in your arms, much like the one you threw at him. “Babe, what was that for?”

You smiled at him, partially amused and fully ticked off. “You could stand to help a little. These streamers won’t hang up themselves.”

“Didn’t mean you had to clock me in my noggin. Besides, I hung up streamers already.” Walking up the stairs, he makes a grand gesture of pointing to the wall. A singular, lopsided strand of streamers hangs above one of the doorways. He purposely avoids your pointed look to “admire” his work.

“Daisuke, we get one birthday party a year. This is really the work you want to show for it?” You sighed. The communal birthday party was one of the only times a year where it felt like you could relax on board. Hanging out with your crew and eating a weird semi-liquid cake.

“Whose lame idea was that anyways? Why can’t we all celebrate our birthdays?” Daisuke wondered.

Walking towards the ladder, you shrugged. “Something about the cake making process being delicate, whatever that means. I think they're just cheap.”

Figuring that Daisuke was over hanging up the decorations, you take a step on the ladder. Warmth spreads along your shoulder. “Let me do it.”

“I thought you were done hanging up streamers.” You teased, stepping down to offer him the rolls of streamers.

“Psh, my arms are totally longer, it’ll get done faster. Then, we could make out on the couch until it’s time for the party.” He reasoned.

Perverted ideals aside, Daisuke just wanted to help you. With nothing to buy, spend, and spoil you with, it left one of his main love languages down the drain. Yeah, being handsy was fun and all, but he didn’t want you to believe he was just some horny slacker. Even if it was true.

Not like he could favor one way to love you over the other. Spoiling you in any way was good enough for him. While your dates usually started with him swiping his card and ended with kissing the back seat of his car, acts of service were nice too.

While he couldn’t cook fancy meals, cutting up a bowl of fruit for you to share was still romantic in his eyes. Driving to your office to deliver your lunch. Rubbing your shoulders after spending a long day hunched over a computer.

There weren’t many services he could provide on the ship, but he could at least hang up some streamers.

Anya walks into the lounge with a box of yellow and red party hats in her arms. She takes a moment to admire the decorations with a smile. It quickly falls seeing the two of you on the couch. “Am I interrupting?”

Surprised, Daisuke rises up from the couch with wide eyes. His hair was disheveled, cheeks were flushed, and his Hawaiian shirt was no where to be seen. “Oh, hey. Is it time for the party?”

“Soon.” The nurse rests the box on the dining table, turning to face the couch once more. “You two should get cleaned up. The others should be here in a moment to help finish the preparations.” She kneels down for a moment, picking something up.

Grabbing Daisuke’s hand, you guide him through the lounge, heading for the bathrooms. “Got it, guess we got distracted.” You laughed.

“Don’t you miss your youth, Anya?” Snickering, Daisuke missed the Hawaiian shirt hurtling towards his head. “Augh! Sweet, my shirt!”

Anya shook her head, watching the two of you walk away. The communal birthday parties are enjoyable. She hopes that the captain has fun too.

The dull ringing never leaves. The constant, annoying buzz that won’t go. That’s all Curly could hear. When his crew would speak to him, their voices would sound muffled, drowned out by the ringing.

[soyokaze-sword]

in defence of the Earth Eleven and the whole Tsurufake thing

so. i think we can all agree that the fact no one finds the Tsurugi impostor (whom i'll call Tsurufake from now on) is very frustrating as viewers. however, i think people are a bit too harsh on the Earth Eleven in that regard, so i'd like to give my thoughts on the matter.

very long ranting under the cut:

the fact that Tsurugi was replaced by an importor is made obvious in every way possible for the viewer, and i insist on the word viewer. the scene where Tsurufake replaces him is shown to us, and we see Tsurugi go to Falam Orbius.

i'll first cover Tsurufake's appearance, since it's my weakest point. Tsurufake has purple eyes and eyebags to differenciate him from Tsurugi. and that's something i've always seen as just a way for the viewer to tell them apart? what i mean is that i think the Earth Eleven still sees Tsurugi's usual eye colour, it only exists in the viewer's perception to remind us that this is not the real Tsurugi. remember that the target audience is young children, after all. this makes even more sense in the game, as Tsurufake becomes playable in the postgame, so there needed to be a difference in his portrait and 3d model.

so, the Earth Eleven doesn't see any difference in Tsurugi's appearance. but what about his behaviour? surely this should've triggered a reaction. and it did, but not the one we wanted. before i go through every member likely to figure out Tsurufake one by one, i'd like to make a general statement.

how likely is this situation to happen? maybe i'm crazy or too socially awkward to understand, but if one of your friends starts acting weird all of a sudden, especially in an unknown environment where the future of the ENTIRE GALAXY is at stake, them having been abducted and replaced by an impostor is the last thing that will come to your mind, right? of course i get that in the world of IE what's unlikely for us isn't so much for them, but STILL. can you really blame them for not thinking about this scenario, when the most obvious answer was that this new environment and the stakes were making Tsurugi anxious?

i see you're still not convinced. so i'll talk about each character who was likely to find out one by one.

let's start with Aoi, Shinsuke and Shindou. Aoi and Shinsuke, despite having been around since the first season, aren't that close to Tsurugi. they've barely interacted alone, so i think it's safe to assume they don't know him well enough to notice. plus Shinsuke's too busy having a repeat of his CS arc to care (why does this character exist).

as for Shindou, in my opinion, it's because they've already grown appart during the first half of Galaxy. while Tsurugi kind of acts as a middle ground between Shindou and Tenma, it quickly becomes obvious's he's on the latter's side. which is why, while Shindou is seen talking to Tsurugi at first, he doesn't do it as much later on. this division, while minor, between the main trio, is what made them grow apart, probably without them even realising. Shindou still puts his full trust on Tsurugi on the field of course, but outside, i'd say he started to feel Tsurugi wouldn't understand if he tried talking to him.

now, on to the biggest part... Tenma. Tenma was the most likely to figure it out, Ozrock even mentions it. Tenma is the one who knows Tsurugi best, who was able to see through his facade and notice his real love for football.

well, first of all, there's the obvious 'Tenma had too much on his plate to worry about Tsurugi'. he's gotta lead a team of beginners in a space tournament that will decide the fate of the entire galaxy. the poor guy never gets to catch a breath in this season.

but, to go beyond that, i'd say that Tenma knowing Tsurugi well actually played against him. because Tenma knows Tsurugi is very quiet and doesn't talk when something's bothering him. so when he saw Tsurufake acting strange, his first instinct was probably "Tsurugi must be feeling really nervous, and miss his brother. i should give him some space". and, again, with so much to worry about already, he didn't try pushing further. it's frustrating of course, but understandable.

and finally, there's Minaho and Konoha. some were probably surprised that Konoha was the one to pick up on Tsurufake's weird behaviour and not Minaho, but i think it actually makes sense. Minaho analyses behavioural paterns and draws conclusions based on them. he needs to watch carefully someone in order to understand how their mind work. but we never see him examining Tsurugi's behaviour. the only thing that could've alerted him was Tsurufake staying away from Tenma, as those two were always together during the first half, but he probably put it on the account of the change of environment and the fact that Tsurufake said he felt sick.

as for Konoha, she doesn't analise, she understands people's heart. she's good at reading emotions. and, of course, while Tsurufake can copy Tsurugi's behaviour, he can't copy his emotions, which is why Konoha notices, FEELS something's off. problem is, she lacks the confidence to trust her instinct. and bad luck makes it so when she decides to tell Sakura, Tsurufake receives Tsurugi's memories, which allows to copy him better. so Konoha immediately thinks she must be seeing things and doesn't look further.

and that's all. while Tetsukado and Ibuki spent some time with Tsurugi in the first half, it's not nearly enough to notice something's off. of course i get why so many people are getting mad over the Earth Eleven not figuring out Tsurugi was replaced. i've actually been there. but i hope i managed to explain well enough how i think it's understandable on their part. galaxy's my favourite season, and while i understand why some didn't like it, i feel like the community is being too harsh at times. maybe i'll make another post to explain my thoughts on the Earth Eleven as the main team, if people are interested.

thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

[kaakelymaakely]

ROTTMNT LEO X READER TEASER 2

Much shorter than the first one lolz. just a snippet of a scene tho *big cheesy smile*

--

“Sorry. can't make it 2nite. upset stomach :("

Your short message blinks at Leo, almost tauntingly so. He uncurls from where he was positioned on his side, instead rolling to splay out on his back, the bed curving to the shape of his shell. He has his phone a few mere inches away from his face, thumbs supporting the weight of it from falling onto his pinched frown. 

You had written to the group chat, the one that included his whole family. It wasn't unusual for you to skip out on movie nights, citing an upset stomach or a raging headache. They would be hypocrites to say anything. Donnie will sit out, locking himself in his lab because of phantom impressions squirming across his backside and soft shell, like maggots digging into soil. Or Mikey, when his wrists sear with a burning pain, as if the skin is flaking off in giant, glowing chunks. Or Raph, because of the raised skin around his eye, the throbbing sensation feeling too similar to alive pulsing, like something was under the surface, threatening to break free.

Leo never sat out on movie nights.

Why would he, when the alternative would be to sit alone in his dark room, dark enough to where he couldn't see his hand in front of his face? It used to be comforting. Used to be the one place he could drop his splitting smile and just sit, devoid of any overwhelming emotions or purposeful overreactions. The curtains are drawn, the spotlights are dimmed, the audience dispersed, and he's alone on stage. But he couldn't get the blood taste out of his mouth, the disgusting sulfur smell that churned his stomach, as he was smashed to pieces again and again until all he could do was perform. Until Leonardo was gone, and all that was left was happy, go-lucky Leo whose basic expression was a snarky grin.

Wipe that grin off your face.

Leo blinks as something buzzes, and suddenly he's ripped from that horrible dark dimension and all he can see is light, light, light, until he finally registers it as his phone illuminating his face. It jingles with an incoming notification. Leo takes in a deep breath because his lungs aren't punctured. Lets it fill his chest because his ribs aren't shattered. And lets it slow the rhythm of his heart because it's surprisingly still pumping blood. Leo isn't dead. 

The phone buzzes again, vibrating his already shaking hand, as his brothers respond with varying levels of support and kindness. Donnie likes your text, Raph sends a simple red heart, and Mikey writes back a heartfelt message. His family isn't dead. And as his phone hums with another notification, Leo releases his breath, because you aren't dead.

"Can you pls come over? I need you here." 

You had texted, but not in the group chat-- instead to him, privately. He practically drops his phone on his face. Those last four words make him squirm with an emotion too big for him to name. He fights back the urge to grin-- the memory of that twisted smile as he cried and bled out onto his family portrait as a far-too-familiar figure rears back to deliver another blow, too fresh on his mind-- and instead places his phone onto his plastron. He tucks his other arm behind his head, propping it up to get a proper view of his ceiling, decorated in his glow-in-the-dark stars. 

Leo traces patterns of constellations. They didn't have stars in the Prison Dimension, just streaks of darkness. He couldn't even properly identify it as any color-- not even black. It was like the sensation of when you closed your eyes, hints and traces of colors threatening to pop up, but none making an appearance. It was a lack of color. A lack of anything. His throat contracts, swallowing back a pained whimper. Fear licks at his stomach, makes itself known in the dryness of his mouth. They don't have stars in the Prison Dimension, he reminds himself. He ignores the fact he's looking at fake stars, and ignores the fact he's beginning to make up his own constellations, and instead goes back to the fact that you texted him out of everyone else.

Why him?

[ragnarockz]

"what would they think if they could see you now, huh?": Agatha walking in on Rio masturbating by humping something and watching her to get to orgasm that way, no penetration. Up to you if it's more humiliation or exhibitionism on Rio's side but Agatha is enjoying the show.

👀

"What would they think if they could see you now, huh?"

Agnes' voice was low, dark. Filled with sleep but also desire, she stood in the dark door frame and watched the shadowed figure of Vidal on top of their bed. Her hips came to a quick stop; head turning to face Agnes at the door. She let out a pathetic whimper and it almost made Agnes' knees buckle.

"Fuck...fuck, Baby I...didn't hear you come up..."

Vidal swallowed hard, trying to catch her breath. She was hunched over a mound of something between her legs; crouched down so that her spine was curved. Agnes only smirked at her, crossed her arms over her chest.

"I fall asleep on the couch and you sneak up here like the desperate little slut that you are to what? Fuck yourself? You got my cock between your legs?"

Vidal moaned again as she turned her head away and brought it down, forehead to the soft mound. There was silence between them then; neither of them daring to make the next move, the next sound. Time felt like it slowly ticked by until Agnes kicked away from the door frame, her hands coming down and shoving into the pockets of her track pants. She made slow strides towards their bed, her gaze never leaving Vidal's body. When she finally got closer, right to the edge, her eyes widened as she saw what Vidal had between her legs.

It was her pillow. Her fucking purple pillow-cased pillow.

"Oh, Babe...you should have just woke me up...I would have let you fuck me instead..."

Agnes cooed as she knelt down just enough so that her mouth was level to Vidal's ear. She watched the agent shake slightly, trying to hold herself off from spilling over the edge. Agnes was going to make sure she pushed as many buttons as she could. Hell, she thought, Vidal deserved it.

"Do you have my cock between your legs? Yes or no?"

"No, Daddy I don't! I swear!"

She was stern, her words coming out sharp like the edge of a knife. Vidal whimpered again, shaking her head against the pillow. Without looking away, Agnes reached out with her left hand to the drawer of her night table. She snapped it open, the sound echoing throughout the room alongside Vidal's heavy breathing. She rummaged around and felt the silicone on her fingers. She snapped the drawer shut.

"You're fucking my pillow? You snuck upstairs from the couch after you woke up to...to hump my fucking pillow? God, look at you, Babe...look at fucking you. How fucking desperate can you be?"

Vidal pulled her head up, turning it so that she caught Agnes' eyes. They looked at one another for a second before Vidal pushed her hips back with as much force as she could. She felt the wrinkled and semi-wet fabric brush against her folds, her clit. Her mouth opened and a moan turned scream came out from it; causing shock waves of pleasure through Agnes' body.

She pulled away from the side of the bed and stood there again, looking down at Vidal. It felt like she was choking on her tongue and all she could do was watch. There was Vidal, rocking her hips against her pillow, chasing her high. Vidal could feel the bundle of nerves inside of her firing up again; having been so, so close to orgasm before Agnes appeared in the door frame. Now, she had to start it all up again with an audience.

And the audience? She was chasing her own high, her own pleasure. Unable to stop herself from the sight she was taking in; the beautiful sight of Agent Vidal trying to get herself off onto her pillow wasn't something she could tamp down. Left hand working feverishly past the waistband of her boxers, Agnes used her pointer and middle fingers to rub her clit before sliding them down further. She held her moans back, only wanting Vidal to sound like the desperate one.

The two of them in their room, Agnes standing by the bed and Vidal on top of it, almost felt worlds apart. Vidal chasing her orgasm with the help of Agnes' pillow and Agnes, chasing her own with the help of her own fingers and the constant stream of Vidal's explicit sounds. They both knew they were totally ruined for one another; pleasure seekers that only had to be in the same orbit to achieve it all.

Vidal came first; hard and fast and so, she slumped back over and moaned loudly into Agnes' pillow. Her eyes were closed, face down but she could hear Agnes' fingering herself. She could feel how wet the detective was because of her. Vidal smiled against the pillow, hearing a high-pitched gasp then a low moan and knew right then and there Agnes had come onto her fingers.

Vidal laid there in content until, to her shock, she felt the pillow being ripped out from right underneath her. She felt the cold hitting her skin, the empty crevice of space now under her body. Vidal let out a loud gasp as her body tried to catch itself onto the mattress. Head whipping around to look at Agnes at just what the fuck she thought she was doing; Vidal saw the pillow being flung behind the detective and her now-empty hand coming towards her.

Smack.

Like a cracked whip, the sound punctuated the air before Vidal had realized that Agnes' hand had come down and spanked her across her right ass cheek.

She let out another moan, louder this time, even more desperate. She bit her lip and closed her eyes and heard Agnes talking again, her words making her clit throb with want; with humiliation.

"Look...at...fucking...you...whatwouldtheythink....iftheycould...see you now?"

[barksenji]

Good Friday (An Horrordust One-Shot? Maybe).

if you look hard enough it is.

I rarely write in first person, so I decided to try it out with a Horrordust one-shot from Dust’s perspective. I debated whether to upload this or not, since without a bit of context it might be a little confusing.

This is my version of Dust — “Cap,” as Horror calls him. He’s also the same Dust from Déjà Vu, my own take on Dusttale that I’m currently writing.

Post-Dusttale, after being “hired” by Nightmare to work under him, Dust experiences frequent episodes of complete catatonia or just shuts down entirely. He’s quite isolated but has brief moments of “lucidity” when his symptoms ease up and he’s more willing to chat!

He's a little piece of shit <3

If you’ve seen a drawing of Dust with a rifle he calls Papyrus — yes, that’s Cap. You can check him out here.

Here if you want to read this on AO3!

---

Clatter, footsteps, the deep rumble of his voice, and the sound of alcohol being poured.

Did this guy not know how to keep quiet?

I’d been watching him for a while now; he didn’t seem like someone Nightmare would hire, so I guess I was waiting to see what was so special about him. Weak, starving, and insane — a stark contrast to Killer’s ridiculously high LV and skill.

He seemed quite useless in comparison.

«They’re gonna find out, I swear.»

«Thirty-nine times? No, I’m done.»

Ever since he arrived, the nights stopped being quiet. I’d be annoyed, but in a way it’s relaxing, Papyrus likes the castle’s tomb-like silence and usually has nothing good to say.

«That’s the enemy.»

I didn’t even notice how my eyes drifted toward him, the soft moonlight reflecting off his metallic surface.

Papyrus — the rifle.

It was pretty battered from the harsh conditions of our missions. I’d probably have to do some maintenance on him tomorrow.

Crack!

“SHIT!” echoed in the distance.

Had Horror dropped one of the glasses? Oh, Nightmare was going to be pissed.

I didn’t really care much about the new addition to the team — they all come and go. I stopped caring a long time ago; we all end up the same.

...But I guess I’m curious enough to go see how he’s doing.

It’s rare for me to have enough energy to move at night, but having someone listen to my awful puns wouldn’t hurt. Paps doesn’t like them much, so maybe someone with my sense of humor would be a better audience.

Since, well, we’re technically the same person.

God, how long has it been since I last moved? When was the last mission? I glanced at my hands and saw the magenta liquid staining my gloves. Karma sucks, if things keep going like this, I’ll...

«Are your hands clean?»

No, not yet.

I tried to drag myself out of bed, stumbling to my feet. Everything feels heavier since I got here — maybe it’s just the lack of activity, but I don’t care.

Nightmare’s castle is confusing, it’s made to be that way. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen hallways change places or new doors appear. I’ve never dared to question it; I’m sure it’s just a way to keep us trapped.

But I’ve mapped out most of the rooms by now. And with how noisy this guy is, it only took me a few seconds to spot him.

His lonely figure was hunched over the kitchen counter, liquid from a broken bottle spilling onto the floor. He didn’t seem to care at all as he opened another and drowned himself in alcohol.

“Can I bum one?”

The sharp look he shot me could probably cut through metal.

“You could talk all along?”

“Sadly.”

“Back off. Get yer own bottle.”

“Huh.”

I sat down beside him, snatched the bottle from his hand, and drank shamelessly. I didn’t have the energy to be polite at three in the morning — if he wasn’t going to give me one, then too bad.

“Thanks! How thoughtful, you really didn’t have to,” I teased him. The look on his face was priceless.

I didn’t know much about Horror, but I’d heard he had a bad temper.

And boy, did he.

Before I could react, he grabbed me by my scarf and pulled me close. I blinked a few times, taking in the nasty wound on his head. I wondered: when he showered, did water pool—

“Listen up, asshole. I’m sick of you and the rest of the wannabe emos lurkin’ ‘round here. I want some damn peace, so scram before I make ya.”

“Geez.”

Finally, he loosened his grip, turned away with a sigh, and opened another bottle. I couldn’t help but notice his features — sharper around the edges, rougher, more jagged, if that makes sense.

«Why is there only one word for superstition?»

There was no light in his sockets, just that one red, glowing, rotten eye. His bones were broken in several places — he was taller, but his bones were thinner.

“They call you Horror, right?”

“The name’s Sans.”

“Wow, really? What a surprise.”

Horror didn’t respond.

“They call me Dust. Sometimes Murder.”

He took a swig from his bottle.

“They stopped calling me Murder because it sounded too much like Killer. And also because Dust is a bit more humiliating.”

Yep, he was ignoring me.

Not that I was much of a talker anyway. I didn’t mind, I’d gotten what I wanted: a closer look and a few words out of him. I guess that’s all I needed.

Still, I stayed by his side, I’d already stolen a bottle from him, so I might as well finish it. I wasn’t about to drink alone in my room. Not that I was ever really alone but...

«Living like this toughens us up.»

Whatever you say, Papyrus.

I missed the effect of alcohol. Its shitty taste really numbed the senses in a pleasant way. I never got tired of it since I picked up the habit at Grillby’s.

“Dust, huh?” Horror’s voice broke the silence, sounding just a bit less sharp.

I raised an eyebrow and turned to look him in the eye.

“Ya know, your stench of misery’s real hard to ignore.” Wow, we’d barely started talking and he was already humiliating me.

“Doesn’t that apply to all of us?”

“You wear that misery real well. Outta all these monsters, you radiate the most magic, and I don’t buy for a second that comes from frolickin’ in no damn flower field.”

The one with the most magic? What about Killer?

Right — Killer wasn’t rotting away from Karma.

“What about that hole in your head? Did you earn it frolicking in a flower field?”

Horror chuckled under his breath. “Maybe.”

I’d never seen a Sans so different — he looked hand-drawn, but not in a bad way. Not that we saw many other Sanses; we had to kill them before we could even get a good look.

Without taking my eyes off him, I went to take another swig from the bottle only to find the disappointing taste of air. Shit.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” I said, making the most pathetic attempt at getting down from my chair. “I won’t bother you— Oh.”

Before I could finish, he shoved something into my hands. Part of me half-expected it to be a bomb, so I was a bit disappointed when it was just more alcohol.

He shot me a look and, without a word, kept drinking.

Maybe the loneliness was messing with my head, but he wasn’t bad company. He felt real.

Maybe that’s why I came to talk to him.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“Good Friday.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna call you Good Friday.”

“Why?”

“No meat.”

He clicked his tongue, looking away, but not before I caught a small smile on his face. It was a pretty good joke! He didn’t want to be called Horror, so this would do.

“Cap.”

“Cap?”

“Because you’re always glued to a bottle.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, because you‘re clearly sober.”

“No, but you’ve downed a dozen and you’re about to open another.”

“Alcohol wears down quickly.”

Since I got here, I hadn’t managed to connect with anyone. At first, I didn’t even bother with talking — Why would I? I thought leaving the loop was all I needed to feel real again, for people to feel real again…

But that wasn’t the case.

If anything, working with Nightmare made it worse. More suffocating. More consuming.

Back then, it was just Nightmare, Killer, and me. I could’ve refused to work for him, honestly. I had nothing to lose and nothing he could threaten me with. But I was selfish.

«Sans, pay attention to me.»

I was captivated by the idea of alternate universes — they gave me a wider view of reality I couldn’t access on my own.

So I did what he wanted, just to see those places. To look for answers in them. To try to escape somehow. It was the closest thing I had to an exit, but I never had enough time to get anywhere. Nightmare kept a close eye on me.

It turned into a cycle. I’d rot in bed for days, a mission would pop up, they’d drag me out. I’d kill some people, feed the beast, and go right back to square one. It was as isolating as being alone at Grillby’s — maybe even worse.

There was Killer, sure…

«Disgusting.»

But I can’t stand looking at him.

I don’t hate him or anything — I can be many things, but I’m not a hypocrite — he’s just too… similar. To me. To him. The Player. I can’t shake the feeling they might be the same person.

And well, as for me, he and I were the same person.

He’s a reflection of what I could’ve been, for better or worse. And, cowardly as it is, that’s something I’m not ready to face.

Judging by his attitude, he doesn’t like me much either.

So Half-Brain was a breath of fresh air. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had an honest conversation, one where I couldn’t predict every line, one with a real person.

“Got somethin’ on my face?”

“Besides the giant hole? Nope. You’re good.”

He rolled his eyes.

Sorry — rolled his eye. Important distinction.

His expression shifted to something I could only describe as confusion, though my drunk brain wasn’t great at reading emotions.

“…Do I have something on my face?”

“What an interesting eye color.”

Oh.

I rarely showed my eyelights.

Across the multiverse, lots of people seemed to know me better than I knew myself, so I preferred to hide who I was instead of letting people make guesses.

Needless to say, it was hard to care about that after a few bottles.

“Well, you’ve only got one eye and it smells like shit. And Killer looks like a cheap creepypasta knockoff.”

“Yeah, but you look pretty… normal. Thought you’d look more like I did before…” He cut himself off, voice low. “Forget it. How’d you wind up here?”

Well, that was a tough question to answer.

“Nightmare probably sniffed out my misery and decided I’d be a good addition to his little skeleton crew.”

I traced my finger across the surface of the bottle I was holding, staring absently at the lettering on the label.

“I was completely out of it. I couldn’t even form a coherent sentence. Next thing I knew, I was here with a job.”

“And what the hell made you so miserable?”

I looked him in the eye. “Why don’t you tell me first? What made you miserable?”

Brian Trauma leaned back, arms behind his head, staring at the fridge.

“A starvin’ Underground. The Core shit the bed after Frisk left, no juice left to keep it alive.” His gaze darkened. “Seven years of hunger’ll break your mind. Nightmare showed up when I was on the brink of collapse. Had no choice, Queen Undick…”

I choked on my drink. “Queen Undick?!”

«Queen Undick.»

“Ahem! Queen Undyne practically forced me to take the job. Not like I’m scared of her or anything, but Nightmare offered us unlimited food and… what kinda conscience would I have if I just sat on my ass instead of helpin’ my kind?”

I stared at him. I stared hard. If there was one thing I was good at, it was catching people bullshitting me.

“And the hole in your head? I could fit my whole arm in there.”

Cracked Egg shot me a side-eye. “Maybe I’ll tell ya. If you answer my question.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to answer — at this point, I had nothing to hide. I wasn’t ashamed of what I’d done… but it was hard to find the words.

“So? Gonna talk?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Enlighten me.”

I rolled my eyes.

“A human. No, wait. A player. Or something else…”

Maybe a god? Or an alien? No, no, I don’t know… I don’t know what it was.

“They fell into the Underground. And then they killed. Over and over. They rewrote the rules… the rules of my world. I saw it happen. I witnessed it. I tried to stop them, but it didn’t work. Nothing worked.”

«How do you feel?»

“They corrupted everyone. One by one. I couldn’t save anyone, so I focused on getting out of there. I failed at that too — when Nightmare found me, I was alone and tired, and I didn’t resist when he dragged me here.”

Swiss Cheese (because he’s full of holes) responded with a hum. He probably didn’t understand a word of what I said. I didn’t care, I never expected him to.

“So, gonna tell me about the hole?”

“Had a brilliant idea slip right outta my head. Guess my skull couldn’t handle my genius.”

“Be serious.”

“It was a gift from a friend.”

«A gift from a friend.»

“Your friend gives out concussions?”

“Right? A pair of socks would’ve been better.”

It was something I’d noticed before, but hadn’t really thought about until now. The level of magic I could sense from Horror was really low. And sure, it made sense given the whole starvation thing — but it was too low even factoring that in.

He’d probably gained some LV on recent missions, so what was going on?

My focus shifted back to his eye. From the way it was rotting and how it sat in his socket, it definitely wasn’t his.

Hadn’t he said the Core failed?

Queen Undick. A friend. Oh, that was foul.

“Quit it, you’re creepy as hell when you do that shit.” His words snapped me out of my thoughts.

“What?”

“When you sit there starin’ at me like a corpse.”

I guess years alone with the Player had wrecked my social skills.

“I just think a lot.”

“Don’t look like it, but sure.”

A moment of silence.

After finishing his bottle, Horror carelessly set it on the counter and got up from his seat. His bones cracked when they hit the floor — I was amazed he could even stand during fights.

“Talking to you has been a real headache, but I guess I didn’t mind the company. I’m going to bed. I don’t have a liver, but I’m not about to find out if bones rot from booze.”

I’d definitely talk to him again. He was intriguing, in a way. He looked like he shouldn’t be alive, but he was, almost like he defied death out of sheer spite. That was something I could respect.

“Hey, Good Friday.”

I’d braced myself for him to ignore me, so I was pleasantly surprised when he stopped in his tracks.

“Hm?”

“If you ever wanna call me up to get your eye back from the Core, I’d go with you. No hesitation. Fighting Undyne and all that. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Horror whipped his head around to glare at me — I didn’t even bother hiding the satisfied grin on my face. His reaction told me everything I needed to know. The good thing about drinking with people is that drunks can’t control what they spill.

It’s easy to pull info out of them, you just have to connect the dots.

He huffed and stomped off to his room… or maybe somewhere else. I didn’t care. I stayed alone in the kitchen and only then realized I’d have to clean up all the mess Brain-Fry was definitely gonna blame me for.

I sighed.

«You should be careful, these ones are the dangerous ones.»

As if there were people who weren’t dangerous. In the multiverse, there are no harmless people, only people who’ve decided not to cause harm.

«Queen Undick»

«a gift from a friend…»

I laughed at the nickname. Queen Undick, huh? I’d love to meet her.

[skadef]

★ 𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐔𝐑 ★

Summary: You go to some sort of cabinet of curiosities and find a cute hybrid in distress.

CW: Predator-prey dynamics, hyena hybrid, slight "cannibalistic" implication, nothing explicit.

I mechanically walk down the train car.

People crowd around my nose, eager to see a mandrake plant preserved in a jar, and as soon as they lose interest, they pile toward whatever awaits at the end of the hallway. Behind the dense purple curtains, in large letters, it reads: Hybrids. Meet these phenomena of nature!

The light is scarce as soon as I cross the threshold, and a scent of sandalwood and rosehip penetrates my brain. Once you cross that line, I had heard from someone, you’ll be bombarded by all sorts of warnings and meaningless messages on the panels. That’s how it was—just a bunch of nonsense that wasn’t there in the previous section. Avoid getting too close to the artists, one says. Another, which carries more weight, says: No photographs without prior permission. It had curved edges and vibrant colors, but permission was underlined, giving it a solid character that left no room for debate.

I join the crowd. A handful of flies land on a mustard-colored display case, rushing in. They resemble the phenomena that the crowd has paid to see.

From my cramped spot (a space protected by the broad shoulder of an older man and the small body of a girl), I manage to see between the sea of heads in the front row a scaly skin undulating in its place like a yellow handkerchief, and how the audience is seduced by the whistle suddenly emitted by that phenomenon. Not only is it a grand act that receives applause, but also an intimidating one that reminds you why a glass separates it. A hybrid between a human being and a rattlesnake! Vincent, the snake man! reads the inscription.

When the general enthusiasm is suffocated by the muffled cry of a baby, Vincent does something else; something that elicits a collective “awww,” along with a second round of applause; he’s gentle, and as soon as he does it, the baby falls silent. Is that his rattle? I sneak through a hole and then I see it. He is shaking his snake rattle in front of the baby’s eyes.

A hypnotic movement.

Symbol of infinity.

I don’t realize how amazed I am until I hear myself within the sudden chorus of tense voices. We have become a single entity, trying to figure out together what the trick is. We search for the invisible thread, the prosthetic, or the disguise. But nothing can be done when the eyes see what is evident at first glance.

A feeling stirs our bodies, it concentrates like a gas capsule the more we stimulate those corners of morbid nature that make us human. Some of these creatures behind the glass seem to respond to our excitement; Pete the Crab walks in circles in his cubicle, nervous. Or perhaps irritated. No matter how many legs he walks on, his torso is still human. His hands, two sturdy pincers. His appearance is so terrifying it repels the audience. The same happens with the woman with a gaunt face, walrus tusks, and a fish tail, who desperately performs tricks and pantomimes, despite them being a complete failure.

I keep staring at her, though without looking.

My senses are occupied with something invisible, something I’ve already observed with enough attention. It’s impossible to ignore, like a drip falling toward your face while lying in bed; a sound similar to when a heavy blow hits metal (or rather, a series of blows). I look in all directions, frustrated because I can’t tell where it’s coming from. And for a fleeting moment, as I sharpen my hearing, I think I hear, in addition, a very human groan.

It’s a hoarse, visceral, even mocking groan.

I wonder if I imagined it when I hear it again, this time a little louder. Apparently, it is speaking specifically to me, saying: Follow me. I stop in front of that wall at the end of the path, which isn’t really a wall, but another partition, poorly disguised. It could have blended into the slats if the door weren’t ajar. It’s as if it’s shouting aloud: No entry for unauthorized personnel. Which, in my view, meant an invitation, a sort of signal telling me that, come what may, I should enter.

Yes, I had to do it. Accept the invitation.

In an effort to make sure no one is watching, I turn my head left and right repeatedly. I do it as if I were about to cross a path full of bedbugs.

No one shouts for me to stop, and a sharp sense of danger pierces me as I brush against the rough surface and push. The door slams shut, muffling any external noise in that small room. Now I am alone with the dense silence and the earthy, woody scent of sandalwood, which regains its shattered strength.

I see nothing but murmurs of light that filter through the ceiling, forming tiny white dots on the floor; I’ve always had the impression that the dust of fairies floated in those suspended threads. It gives the place a feverish dreamlike mask that serves to daze me.

As my eyes adjust, I notice the bars of the cage.

Inside, a crouched figure takes a few steps back, making me grip the camera I had fastened to my waist with tightly pressed fingers. The flash helps me figure out what it is: A hybrid. A new one, as expected. The image of his face freezes in the air and stays imprinted on my retina for a few seconds afterward. Who would have guessed that those wide-open eyes (now turned into two bright dots in the dimness) had been following every one of my movements from the very beginning?

The erratic rise and fall of his chest tells me he has been banging against the bars (in a vain attempt to escape) and that this was the noise I had heard before.

He’s not at all happy about being treated as merchandise, and his bruised cheek makes it clear he’s fought back.

I take another photo. Fascinated. This time with the intention of keeping it later, while internally savoring the warning: No photographs without prior permission. I’m sure this one is twice as valuable as any I might have taken outside, with or without permission.

I take another photo, and another, and another.

He closes his eyes for a second and presses himself against the wall, distancing himself as much as he can from me.

He looks like a scolded dog, his furry round ears have flattened against his skull, and if he has a tail, I’m convinced he’s hiding it between his legs. There’s something in that gesture that appeals to my human side, perhaps thinking it’s his best way of coping with the intervention… of protecting himself from the flash of the camera.

“Who are you?”

He asks with a certain hostility hidden beneath: he still furrows his brow like a martyr. But you can see the hate somewhere, waiting to rise to the surface, depending on whether or not I’m helpful to him.

I tell him I paid for a ticket to get on and that I like cardamom tea and the bracelet they give you at the entrance. Apprehension makes him bite his nails, although deep down you can tell it’s an act of restraint. Is he holding himself back? I’m scared of not being able to stop, for whatever reason, that verbal vomit.

I tell him that the door was ajar and that it piqued my curiosity, that I didn’t expect to find anyone (a lie), that I…

“Can you get me out of here?” His eyes, filled with pleading, search for any confirmation, but they run face-first into the doubt on my face.

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” He hastily interrupts, with a certain demand in his tone that would go unnoticed by most people.

No.

He pleads again, rubbing his forehead, a single motion adding fifty years to his shoulders, though he can’t look me in the eye once his arm drops, a sign of defeat, and he goes back to looking as young as he truly is.

I suppose he will find more comfort in staring at the tip of his sneakers or checking the bloodstained shirt than in me. From his inscrutable expression, he’s thinking about something, and the pang of danger (persistent until that moment) tells me I shouldn’t get him out of there.

I say nothing. Indecision governs me the more I look at him.

I know where the key is, he says.

Don’t listen to him, says the voice of reason.

“Where is it?” I know my words serve as a confirmation for him, or at least, if we were talking about convincing me, he already has half of the ground gained.

“Yes. It’s… in… in…”

The vase. I fumble around, following his instructions, and find the key wrapped in a rectangular cloth. When I insert it into the lock, I hear his sigh loudly and clearly; he seems exultant, arms akimbo, cheeks flushed.

For a moment, he had clung to the bars, letting me see his sharp black claws. I remember thinking that if he wanted, he could spill my guts onto the ground.

One scratch would be enough.

As he leaves, I notice his body is bigger than it seemed inside the cage. No. Not a cage, a grim cell. He pats his hands on his thighs and thanks me, with no trace of the emotion he'd expressed earlier. When he looks at me, hundreds of needles prick my skin, and I have to squirm, uncomfortable with the avalanche of everything I can’t understand, can’t name, but that lurks behind his pupil, making those eyes glow.

Oh.

I realize too late that he’s a hyena. Not merely a simple mutt as I had originally thought. He has a gangly, predatory look that makes him playfully tilt his head forward, perhaps sniffing my fear in the air. He likes it because he smiles at me, showing an enormous row of teeth, an angular projection on his face.

“You know, the leftovers they give me here are crap, and you must be really tasty.”

★ I'm sorry if there are errors in the wording:( English isn't my first language so maybe I hace many mistakes but would love to learn so please correct me!

[watchnrant]

Quake: Veil of Deception

Series Concept:

Quake: Veil of Deception continues from Matthew Rosenberg’s Secret Warriors, centering on Daisy Johnson, aka Quake, as she navigates the complex world of espionage and hidden threats in the wake of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s collapse. The series integrates the events of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, particularly the Power Broker storyline, while maintaining the mystery of Sharon Carter’s true identity as the Power Broker—known only to the audience.

Premise:

Following the events of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Daisy Johnson is drawn into a dangerous new mission when she uncovers a growing black market for advanced weapons and technology, spearheaded by a mysterious figure known only as the Power Broker. Daisy’s investigation takes her to Madripoor, where she must navigate a world of criminals, mercenaries, and rogue operatives. Unbeknownst to Daisy, the Power Broker is Sharon Carter, a former ally whose true motives remain hidden from everyone but the audience.

Plot Outline:

Arc 1: The Shadows of Madripoor

After receiving intelligence from an old S.H.I.E.L.D. contact, Daisy learns of a new threat emerging from Madripoor—a city now under the control of the enigmatic Power Broker. Daisy’s mission is to infiltrate the criminal underworld and gather information about the Power Broker’s operations. However, she’s unaware that the Power Broker is Sharon Carter, who is carefully orchestrating her plans while maintaining her cover as a simple arms dealer.

Throughout this arc, Sharon appears to Daisy as an ally, offering her assistance in navigating the treacherous environment of Madripoor. The audience, however, knows that Sharon is manipulating events from behind the scenes, ensuring that her true identity remains concealed while she uses Daisy to eliminate her rivals and secure her position.

Arc 2: The Broker’s Web

As Daisy delves deeper into the Power Broker’s network, she begins to uncover disturbing evidence of super-soldier experimentation and the illegal trade of S.H.I.E.L.D. technology. Suspicion grows as Daisy notices inconsistencies in Sharon’s behavior and the way events seem to play out to the Power Broker’s advantage. Yet, every time Daisy gets close to uncovering the truth, Sharon skillfully redirects her suspicions elsewhere, maintaining her facade.

Sharon, as the Power Broker, strategically feeds Daisy just enough information to keep her off balance, leading her into conflicts with other criminal organizations in Madripoor. All the while, Sharon’s endgame—control of a new breed of super-soldiers—draws closer to fruition.

Arc 3: Unseen Enemies

Daisy’s investigation uncovers a deeper conspiracy involving the remnants of Hydra and rogue S.H.I.E.L.D. agents working for the Power Broker. The tension between Daisy and Sharon builds, as Sharon’s cover begins to show cracks under the pressure of Daisy’s relentless pursuit of the truth.

In a twist, Bucky Barnes arrives in Madripoor, having been tipped off by an anonymous source (Sharon herself, unbeknownst to him). Bucky’s arrival complicates matters further, as he and Daisy team up to track down the Power Broker, both unaware that the person they are looking for is right under their noses.

The audience is treated to moments where Sharon, under the guise of helping Daisy and Bucky, subtly manipulates events to ensure her plans stay on track. Her duplicity adds tension to every interaction, with the readers aware of the looming revelation that could shatter Daisy and Bucky’s trust.

Arc 4: The Shattered Mask

In the final arc, Daisy closes in on the Power Broker’s operations, forcing Sharon to take increasingly drastic measures to protect her identity. Daisy discovers that the Power Broker’s true objective is not just power, but the creation of a new order where those like her—those with enhanced abilities—are under her control.

As the confrontation draws near, Sharon is forced to confront the possibility that she can no longer keep her identity a secret. The arc culminates in a high-stakes showdown at an old S.H.I.E.L.D. facility in Madripoor, where Daisy, Bucky, and Sharon face off against the Power Broker’s forces.

During the final battle, Daisy comes within a breath of uncovering Sharon’s secret, but Sharon manages to maintain her cover by making a calculated sacrifice—destroying evidence and framing a third party as the Power Broker, leaving her true identity intact for now. The audience is left on edge, knowing that Daisy has been deceived, but also aware that Sharon’s secret is hanging by a thread.

Arc 5: Reflections in the Dark

In the aftermath, Daisy reflects on her mission, troubled by the lingering mysteries and the sense that something is not quite right. Sharon, meanwhile, returns to her dual life, continuing her work as the Power Broker, but now with a heightened awareness of how close she came to being exposed.

The series ends with a promise of future conflict—Daisy is more determined than ever to uncover the truth about the Power Broker, while Sharon, watching from the shadows, knows that her greatest challenge is yet to come. The closing scene hints at a new threat emerging, one that could force Sharon to reveal her true identity or risk everything she has built.

Characters:

Daisy Johnson/Quake: The central protagonist, driven by her sense of justice and her complex feelings about S.H.I.E.L.D.’s legacy. Her journey is one of discovery, both external and internal, as she seeks to uncover the truth about the Power Broker.

Sharon Carter/Power Broker: The secret antagonist, whose true identity as the Power Broker is known only to the audience. Sharon’s dual role adds layers of tension, as she carefully maneuvers to keep her cover intact while pursuing her own goals.

Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier: An ally whose involvement complicates the narrative, adding depth and history to the story. Bucky’s presence forces both Daisy and Sharon to confront their pasts.

Supporting Cast: Various characters from the underworld of Madripoor, former S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and new allies who add to the intrigue and complexity of the story.

Tone and Style:

The series maintains a dark, espionage-driven tone, with a focus on character dynamics and psychological tension. The duality of Sharon Carter’s character, combined with Daisy’s relentless pursuit of justice, creates a narrative rich in suspense and moral ambiguity. The art style would reflect this, with a noir-inspired aesthetic that underscores the shadowy, often deceptive nature of the world in which these characters operate.

[ride-thedragon]

Imagine all the tasty drama we could've enjoyed if we hadn't been so fixated on Rhaenyra and Alicent with their whole "girlboss" saga. Especially in "The Blacks," there was so much potential in delving into the kids' lives.

Take Jace, Luke, Baela, and Rhaena, for instance, each navigating their own conflicts after their parents' hasty marriage following the deaths of Laenor and Laena. Baela and Rhaena could have harbored deep resentment toward Rhaenyra for replacing their beloved mother. Baela might still hold her father, Daemon, in high regard but feel betrayed by his favoritism towards Rhaenyra. The tension of Baela resenting Rhaenyra while loving Jace? Pure gold! Rhaena...isolated from her sister, neglected by her father, and full of loathing for Rhaenyra. Her development could’ve been so much more interesting, showcasing her growth in diplomacy, strategy, and politics. They could have shown us how she risked her life to claim a dragon! (Why does it have to be off-screen?!) Rhaenys and Corlys’ feelings towards the boys could've been so interesting! Did Corlys come to care for them genuinely, or only Luke? Did he view a grandchild or a political piece? How did Jace and Luke feel about their younger brothers, who look like true Targaryens? Did they harbor resentment towards them? The way Jace and Luke view Daemon, their new stepfather, could’ve been interesting too. Luke loses Laenor, and Jace loses not one father figure but two, Laenor and Harwin. And Daemon is so much different from Laenor... Watching Jace start to embrace his Targaryen roots, distancing himself from his Velaryon identity, would’ve been gripping! Did Jace push Luke to do the same, making them both painfully aware of their heritage and appearance? When did Luke start referring to Laenor as "Ser Laenor" instead of "father"? Did they ever feel guilty just for existing, knowing they’d never be enough? Ah, the juicy drama we missed out on!

I, too, wish they cared about the team black faction as a bunch of characters who are different with the same goal. They just don't seem to think any conflict can be allowed or that any character interactions matter past love interests, Daemon and Rhaenyra, which is just incredibly unfortunate.

Jace's anger this season being framed as wrong is so unfortunate because, in all honesty, what has he done that is so wrong? I would've killed to see him trying to bring Corlys into the fold.

None of the kids get to react, and when they do, it's never in a fair light because it can't last long enough before we as the audience forget they are a family, I guess. Season one was a rush to the start line, which I get, but season 2 has been so incredibly lacking. All the greens interact this season, past important relationships, and we see the way they play the game. Alicent and Larys were actively manipulating Aegon. We don't have anything close to that for the team black kids. Although they kinda are throwing Helaena to the wayside, we can still turn her around.

With the blacks, every relationship is strained to no real end because we don't get conflict. We are still left assuming 6 episodes in.

I don't like it at all, and I do think it's one of the bigger issues with the season. A lot of folks say it's boring or nothing is happening, but they took what should've been an introspective and character driven season and made it about the 'main characters'. I hope it pays off, but I'm halfway checked out, watching them rip Rhaena away and trying to mould her into Nettles and Baela.

To next season!

[kaveat]

This post was inspired by lucky lefties district deep dive, so please go watch. I left a similar post in a comment under her video but I wanted to expand on it since I spend an unhealthy amount of time thinking about the career districts.

I’ve seen people online with the opinion that 4 is different from the other Career districts somehow. That they either aren’t prone to sending up volunteers or that their tributes aren’t as cut throat.

I personally hate this theory however I can see why people have come to such a conclusion.

In the books the two district 4 tributes are never named and both die very early on despite having supposedly trained their whole lives to survive this sort of thing. Also I doubt the movie helps as in the films the male district 4 tribute is extremely young and is killed by Cato during the bloodbath.

The girl dies later to the tracker jackers along with Glimmer and I think the impression people form because of that is something must be different about 4. Why else would their tributes be so young and die so early?

In the books Katniss does however, mention that it is strange that the district 4 male died so early on and we know he’s 18 unlike in the films, and it’s not hard to imagine that the girl from 4 was simply unprepared when the nest fell on her like Glimmer.

However, I also think the district 4 Victors we end up meeting only serve to confuse people further. We don’t meet many of the district 4 victors but the ones we do see aren’t exactly what you would expect from a career district. Mags who is extremely old, fragile and kind by the time we come to meet her in catching fire and Annie who is described frequently to have suffered a complete mental collapse during her own games.

They’re not exactly the paragon of strength, intimidation and glory that we associate with Careers like Gloss or Enobaria.

Finnick is definitely the most stereotypical career out of all of them, at least in appearances and stature, but throughout the books we learn that he is incredibly kind and gentle despite what we’re lead to believe spending most of the first few days in the games caring for Mags and ensuring Katniss’ safety by playing up her pregnancy for the Capitol.

It’s hard for us as the audience to really reconcile the fact that 4 is like 1 and 2 because we actually get to know the tributes from their and we learn that they aren’t as one dimensional as we’re lead to believe with the others.

So yes I do believe all 3 were careers. I think Mags probably formed a pack similar to the one we see Coral forming in Tbosas she was probably an earlier example of a career. Meanwhile Annie I believe suffered a similar breakdown to Cato after Clove died.

I don’t like how people assume that just because she was well trained and prepared that she somehow wasn’t still susceptible to trauma. If she was a career then we can assume she grew up close with her partner and like how Cato and Clove had a close relationship. Watching him die so brutally would’ve had an affect on any teenager career or not.

Finnick is definitely the hardest to see being a career ironically enough and that’s simply by virtue of the fact that he was 14 years old when he was reaped.

If the whole point of career tributes is to ensure your district wins and is granted the food and wealth that the Capitol gifts to the victors as a reward then why let a 14 year old child volunteer?

The only reasons I can think of is

1. Either he was some sort of prodigy (though I still find this confusing as wouldn’t waiting for him to turn 18 and sending him up with assurance that he might win not be better than sending a half trained 14 year old and hoping he’ll be the first?)

2. He got unlucky. Maybe the reaping system is employed some years or they don’t always manage to get volunteers, though I find this unlikely it is definitely a possibility.

3. Or (and this is more of a personal theory btw) like 1, 4 tries to play the social game with the Capitol and figured sending an attractive, prodigy 14 year old would stir up interest (and provide Finnick with a good storyline for interviews) while also ensuring lots of sponsorships based on his looks.

I personally believe the third theory though there’s not much evidence so I would take it with several grains of salt.

However even with all that sorted I believe that district 4 does train their tributes in a slightly different way then 1 and 2 however I think this comes more from a place of culture and propaganda than anything else.

Since district 4 runs the fishing industry they obviously have access to the ocean. They’re one of the only districts to do so barring maybe 5 and even then 4 has access on a much larger scale. This is bad for the Capitol.

Of course it’s said that Panem is the only surviving nation from after the world changed but they could easily be lying and either way, having a whole district with the potential to utilise the only bit of the world the Capitol doesn’t and cannot have complete control over if they ever decide to rebel means that district 4 is a threat.

I think that the Capitol places a lot of emphasis on inter personal relationships in the district, I also believe that like 11 they are probably heavily monitored, especially on the ocean and that whippings, beatings and executions are probably commonplace as the Capitol wants to discourage any attempts at escape.

I think district 4 has a very close knit community, and that the Captiol does everything it can to tie them to their homeland, establishing roots and connections that mean many people in district 4 don’t want to leave their home.

However I think this is also a double entendre because the close sense of community between district 4 citizens means that they get especially frustrated when their children die in the games and while I’m not saying that the other districts don’t care about their kids as much, something we see, at least in district 12, is a very defeatist attitude towards the games. The kids reaped there have given up before they’ve even made it into the arena and I imagine it’s similar with a lot of the other poorer districts, just accepting their grim reality and not bothering to try and fight. It’s implied in catching fire that 4 outright rebels and on Katniss’ victory tour she describes them as one of the districts angry at the Capitol. I believe this is because the strong emphasis on community bonds and connections means that the citizens in district 4 don’t take the abuse lying down so much as other districts like 12.

This is why I also believe the district 4 focuses primarily on survival when training volunteers. And I don’t mean survival techniques like how to start a fire or stop an infection because I don’t think the Capitol would allow those types of skills to be taught, but I think district 4 basically teaches their tributes to do anything they can to make it home.

We see it with Coral in Tbosas movie where she breaks down sobbing about how all her kills couldn’t have been for nothing. I think this feeling of doing what you have to to make it home ends up being a driving factor behind their teachings.

They’re taught to put morals aside and that even if they’re in an alliance the only one safe to trust is their own partner. Maybe they’re also taught to use whatever they can to endear them to the Capitol, whether that be their looks or their skills in the arena.

So while they’re equally as indoctrinated as 1 and 2 I believe that a lot of their training is focused on doing whatever they need to in order to live.

[kynimdraws]

Top lane diff standoff TFW my obsession with an au pairing spills over to the main Runeterra hc-verse despite these characters not having actual interaction voicelines LOL

If you actually wanna read about this hc of Yone and K'sante meeting please read the TL;DR under the cut

The defeat of the Cobra-Lion and his meetup with Tope (in "Everything We Should Have Said") closed an important chapter in K'sante's life. Despite this, he still desires to further improve himself as Nazumah's greatest warrior-hunter. After all, he always is open for learning.

His brief conversations with nomadic tribes/merchants that pass through Nazumah and tales of the wandering Icathian weaponmaster (Jax) motivates him. With the blessing of the leaders of his homeland, he sets out on his journey.

He travels past the familiar sands/oases of the desert and the fringes of the remains of Icathia. This is how he meets other champion characters like Jax, Sivir, Akshan, and specifically Taliyah.

Taliyah tells about her mentor Yasuo, who had hailed from a distant land called Ionia and had recently separated from him. K'sante had been fairly directionless with his travels, so this suggestion is taken to heart.

This journey to Ionia of course was very fruitful as he sees other lands and their cultures. He passes through the dense forests of Ixtal (Rengar), the technological marvels of Piltover/Zaun (Jayce, Camille), the wild streets of Bilgewater (Nilah)…and finally Ionia.

K'sante luckily is able to get audience with Sett by just boldly participating in his fighting pit just a few days after reaching Navori. The two strike a friendship after their fight ends in a tie (K'sante still thinks Sett is an immature boy but that's another conversation). After hearing K'sante's purpose of his trip, Sett suggests visiting the Ionian temples/monasteries, the centers of martial arts.

It is a given that through this entire trip, K'sante always stops to help anyone that is in trouble. His trek in Ionia doesn't change any of this, but he does notice that some of the things he is fighting are more…spiritual/ephemeral, a contrast to the more physical monsters/vagabonds he has known for so long. Due to the Shuriman Empire's history of rejecting spiritual beliefs, Nazumah was still slowly trying to regain that school of thought. K'sante cherishes this oppurtunity.

In one of the Ionian villages he stopped by, K'sante volunteers to help hunt down some demons. The chieftain of the village briefs him on what he can do, and remarks about how a mysterious masked man had been stalking around the area when these demons started appearing.

"We do not know much about this figure, but he has always appeared with the presence of the demons and azakana…it is possible he is the cause of it all. His masks may be summoning the malevolent spirits to make us suffer. Beware of lone man with many masks, stranger."

K'sante accepts this precaution well enough. After all, he was an experienced warrior. If needed, he will just fight and defeat this masked man. That night, he goes on patrol as he planned. Suddenly he senses another presence following him.

Turning around sharply, K'sante sees what he assumes is the supposed masked man that had control over demons. The man had a red mask with glowing eyes, and exuded a strange aura. Before K'sante can move, the mysterious figure runs his crimson sword through him. K'sante gasps and thinks he is dead, but feels no pain or sees blood....just coldness. He hears the masked man murmur something before withdrawing the sword. Soon a mask materializes from the masked man's hand.

"A small azakana, significantly weakend over time." the masked man simply speaks before he starts to walk away. Confused but wanting to know what the hell happened, K'sante grabs the masked man's arm, demanding what that was about.

"I simply am purging this land from azakana. Your spirit had actually mostly overcome the nightmare that had threatened to overwhelm you...but I thought it would be good to finish the job for you myself."

Hearing this, K'sante demands the masked man to teach his technique of hunting down this...supposed "azakana." The masked man tries to pull away saying this is a task only he can do, but K'sante is more stubborn and refuses to let go. Yone could have disassociated from the situation by having his spirit be unbound, but a part of him is intrigued by this stranger's strong will...a will that could weaken azakana without his help.

"I suppose I can teach you a few things. What is your name?"

"K'sante, a warrior-hunter of Nazumah."

"...Yone. Just Yone."

To be contd... here

[10hourshift]

Ok so I just remembered I wanted to make this (and also don't want it to be too long) but bear with me

Something something, I think that for a story that sure loves using eyes and the face as narrative devices it's kinda weird that meg ALWAYS keeps her bang covering her eye.

What I mean is that for a big number of characters these things (the eyes and the face) are used as a way to show different faces of the same character. Some examples from the top of my head are loon and his growth shown as him uncovering his eyes (and even if it's not becoming a new person or whatever, it's like him finally gaining courage to face the world or smth) and Cami, who always has her eyes covered, and added to that she gives a mysterious vibe to both the other characters and the audience. Who later, when we get to know her in her song, we can finally see her "true" self, and with that, her eyes. And when her "shadow eyes" appear, we can figure out that she has some struggles too (idk it's been a while since my last rewatch). (There are other minor examples, like the introduction of Fred and owynn, or when Bonnie decides to take his glasses off, but I don't want to drag this too long :p)

Because of this I wonder why it is that the series is too strict about meg's eye. The one time her eye shows up (not counting that one image of her as a kid and the bleeding eye) is in a music video (important bc only the audience sees this). This was kinda funny to me (I think ever since I saw it from the first time but ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯) bc in "no más" the song that is really about her overcoming her inner conflicts and whatnot her eye is never visible, (only at the start her bang is lifted but her eyes are closed so it doesn't count). And even after that, she doesn't have any changes in her looks. She keeps the same old hairstyle and keeps covering her eye. Even in zer0, she still has her bang, though the hairdo change is pretty cute imo, but I keep my point, WHY IS THE EYE ALWAYS COVERED???

The reason is never explicitly said, though, it's safe to assume that it has to do with her Big Past Trauma, either in a literal way (eye damaged or draws too much attention, so it's better to keep covered) or a narrative way (something related to shadows??, maybe???). So, this and the already mentioned obsession of the series to keep her eye hidden* is kinda strange to me bc it makes me wonder why it is so damn important to keep her face hidden? And also, what would need to happen for her to show her face??

*the reason I'm so persistent that is "the series" who keeps her eye hidden is bc meg is not often seen actively trying to hide her eye. But her default characteristic is her bang over like half of her face.

Tbh I don't have anything convincing enough to conclude this. As is mostly a ramble about some silly detail that bothers me a little too much. So feel free to add your thoughts if you want to, I just wanted to ramble a bit about this xd

Have an image of genderbent meg I found on the wiki for the trouble