#i hope they post more at times like this cause i can give at time compared to in the afternoon or evening lol

[producedbysohyun]

Protective

Squid game x reader hcs

Summary: How the squid games characters would be protective over you

Includes: Thanos, In-ho, Gi-hun, Dae-ho, Myung-gi, Hyun-ju (squid game au)

Warnings: mentions of death, might be a little repetitive because I just feel like they would act similar.

Masterlist

a/n: Mb this is pretty short but I haven’t posted in awhile so I wanted to post something (I might add to this as time goes on) !! Please enjoy !!

Thanos:

Let’s just say that if anyone lays a finger on you, they are dead 🤗

You literally don’t have to worry about dying when you are with him

Always has his arm around your shoulder or waist so everyone knows to not try anything with you

During the night he holds onto you so tightly you feel like you could suffocate

He just really doesn’t want anything to happen to you 😔

If you really don’t want to play the games he will cave and vote X

You mean way more to him than money

No matter how bad his debt is

*cough* 1 billion *cough*

In-ho:

Idk how you would get in the game in the first place cause he definitely wouldn’t let you but

Ya you are not dying

Has full control of the game and will do everything he can to make sure you don’t die

Even if it means playing unfairly

Tells the guards to not kill you even if you didn’t pass the game

Definitely tells the guards to give you extra food so you have energy 😭

You’re basically just gonna be playing the games on easy mode

Gi-hun:

Bro has nothing to lose besides you so he’s gonna do everything he possible can to keep you alive

Doesn’t let you go anywhere alone

Beats himself up about not trying harder to end the games because if he did then neither of you would be in this situation right now

Never sleeps because he knows that fights happen at night and he wants to make sure you’re safe

Would immediately put himself in danger if it meant you would be ok

Makes sure you pass the games before even worrying about himself

Dae-ho:

Does not take his eyes or hands off of you

Is not afraid to defend you either verbally or physically

Even tho he is freaked out about the games as well he doesn’t let it get to him and tells himself he has to be brave for you

Always puts your safety above his

Ends up getting no sleep at night because he’s so scared something is gonna happen to you

Always insists on giving you his food even tho he is hungry

In his mind, you matter more.

Myung-gi:

Wanted to keep playing the games but when he figured out you were there he voted for X as he wanted anything but for you to be dead or hurt

Will literally kill anyone who bad mouths you (that one scene when he killed Thanos because he said something about Jun-hee 🤭 rip Thanos 😞)

Doesn’t let you leave his sight for a second

During the special game where the lights went out and everyone was killing each other he just kept you behind him the entire time

Boy was ready to risk his life for you 😭

If you get separated during a game he will probably scold you out of worry before realizing that he’s literally yelling at you for something you couldn’t control

You better believe he won’t let you get separated from him again

Hyun-ju:

Girl would do absolutely anything to keep you alive

Holds your hand 24/7

You guys are NOT getting separated

Doesn’t care about herself

As long as you’re alive she’s ok

Would absolutely crash out if anything happened to you

If you wanted to join the revolt with them she would tell you no instantly

Because if you ended up dying and it was her fault she would never forgive herself

Can’t sleep because she wants to watch over you pt.2 😢

a/n: I hope you guys liked this!! I know I say that requests are closed rn but I will take requests for hcs !! Not for a singular character but if it’s for multiple characters I will gladly write it !!

[sturnmeovr]

Neighbor!Matt Headcanons

✮Neighbor!Matt who ... Brat always calls on as her personal handyman. They live in a shitty apartment building with property owners who could give a fuck less what shape their apartments are in, as long as each unit was livable and nobody would sue them. Matt takes pride in showing up at her door to fix her water pressure for the sixth time this month, anything to see her; anything to keep a smile on that pretty face of hers.

✮ Neighbor!Matt who ... has a secret passion for cooking. It all started one year when he baked Christmas cookies with his mom, quickly sparking a light inside his soul. He loves cooking for his brothers and the few friends he has. Brat loves all the delicious meals he cooks for her just as much as he loves showing her his secret love for cooking, he always makes sure to plate them like a 5-star restaurant would.

✮Neighbor!Matt who ... works a blue collar job for a local construction company. He comes home with stained jeans, dirty hands, and the same brown, three-year-old Carhartt jacket his mom gifted him for Christmas one year. He even picks up odd jobs on the weekends to have extra money in his pocket since living in the big city is so expensive nowadays.

✮ Neighbor!Matt who ... has a horrible sleeping schedule. Even though he works a full time job, he stays up late on his PC, usually playing COD or GTA.

✮Neighbor!Matt who ... has a bedroom directly above Brats. She can hear his every move much like he can hear hers. It doesn't matter if he's screaming at his game or arguing with his brother, she hears everything. Matt often eavesdrops on her phone conversation to her friends when she talks about him.

✮ Neighbor!Matt who ... frequents the diner a few blocks away. The owner is a good family friend, so him and his brothers are always welcomed there, always getting a discount every time they go.

✮ Neighbor!Matt who ... is a logical crash out. He stands for the right causes; no bullying, no hurting women, and no talking to him like he's fucking stupid.

✮ Neighbor!Matt who ... carries Brats drunk ass up to her apartment every other Friday night. She can't handle her liquor, and she has shitty friends, in his opinion. He doesn't mind helping her out whenever she needs it, and he loves it when she asks him to stay to cuddle her all night. She'd always be embarrassed in the morning, but he thought her rosy, red cheeks were adorable.

✮ Neighbor!Matt who ... races downstairs to Brats apartment every time she tries to cook by herself a meal and ends up setting the fire alarm off. Seriously, the girl burns toast.

✮ Neighbor!Matt who ... shares an undeniable, indescribable connection with Brat, whom he thought was just his bitchy downstairs neighbor until he actually got to know her. He'd do anything to make her his and he can't stand that she's so guarded.

♡‧₊˚ Cheys Note - I’ve been posting so much I was gonna give myself a little break but this anon changed my mind 😋 thank you for the love baby. Try not to hit that anonymous switch next time, I love to argue 🫶🏻 anyways I hope everyone enjoys, thanks to everyone who shows love and doesn’t hide behind that anon button. Love & appreciate you guys more than you know! 💚 (I have a masterlist for this au coming soon, click the neighbor!Matt x Brat!Reader tag in the meantime!)

Masterlist

Taglist (comment to be added)

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @chennqingg | divider by @fictive-sl0th

Biker!Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader | No Outbreak AU

Warnings for this Chapter: none, really... some curse words, alcohol, Merle being Merle

Word Count: 1,4k

a/n: Since it's my birthday today, I thought why not give y'all a little gift and post two chapters of LITRM this week. 🤗

I'm a lil' insecure about this chapter, though... I hope you are going to like it! Also, we have small cameos of two well-known TWD characters, hehe. Oh, and Merle, of course.

《 M a s t e r l i s t 》

《 Chapter Three 》 《 Chapter Five 》

Chapter Four...

... in which Daryl takes on a destiny changing job and you desperately try to forget the stranger who had conquered your heart so surprisingly - without success?

It had been two months and two days since Daryl's motorcycle trip through America with the gang and three months and eight days since the night he had spent with you. Now he was back at work; things bouncing back to normalcy.

A grunt left his lips as he realised that his break was over. He took a last drag of his cigarette, before he let the stub fall to the ground; stubbing it out with the heel of his boot. Then the biker returned to his current workplace in the motorcycle shop his brother, Merle, owned.

He picked up where he left off, exchanging the bike's chain, as he suddenly saw Merle approaching him in the corner of his eyes. "Got a job for ya, baby brother," Merle came to stand beside him; a piece of paper dangling between his pointer finger and thumb. Daryl looked up at his brother. With a grunt, he stood from where he was squatting beside the vehicle and wiped his greasy hands on the light blue, baggy overall he wore. "A job, huh?" Daryl said; taking the piece of paper.

It was an offer from a few different motorcycle dealer, who wanted to sell some of their customised bikes. "You wan' me to check 'em out?" Merle nodded; crossing his arms over his chest. Daryl scoffed and shoved the piece of paper into his brother's chest. "Nah. Got better stuff ta do. Go check 'em out yourself or send T-Dog or someone else."

Merle laughed out loud at his little brother's words. "Ya really think I'd send someone like T-Dog? Lil' piece of shit can be glad that I'll still let 'im work here." "Then ya gotta go yerself," Daryl shrugged his shoulders and focused back on work.

Merle stood beside him for quite a few more moments in silence; just watching. At some point, it got on Daryl's nerves and he looked up at his older brother again; "Wha'?" noticing that he had a shit eating grin on his face. "Ohh, baby brother... You should really give this another think, ya know... 'Cause all of them dealers are in Montana - and from what I heard 'bout your last trip with your lil' friends, you had a lotta fun there, right?"

Daryl scoffed; already disliking this conversation. "Righ', fun."

It wasn't a lie. It was the truth and he couldn't deny it.

Merle's dirty grin widened. "So yer goin'?" Daryl grunted, but nodded; not having the nerves or want to continue this 'discussion'. "Fine. 'M goin'." The older Dixon laughed once again; "Thought ya couldn't resist." giving Daryl a rather harsh clap on the shoulder. "Hope yer havin' just as much fun this time, baby brother. Jus' make sure ya don't get too caught up, eh? I want dem bikes." The biker grumbled under his breath, while Merle walked away; amused by his brother's behaviour.

A few days later, Daryl was on the road again for his almost thirty hours ride to Montana with a stopover in Sioux City, Iowa, where he stayed the night in a motel and continued his journey very early in the morning - until he reached his (first) destination... Miles City. The moon had already replaced the sun, when he threw the keys to his motel room on the bed; angel-winged vest, sunglasses and helmet following. The biker was tired from all the driving and travelling, but he didn't feel like going to bed. Not yet.

He quickly paid the tiny bathroom a visit, before he searched his backpack for his beloved cap, grabbed his run-down wallet and the keys again. Then he made his way to the bar he held very good memories of... 'The Rowdy Raccoon'.

Being way closer to the establishment this time than a few months ago, he could walk and didn't have to drive - which was fortunate, in case he decided to have a few more beers or drinks.

The bar hadn't changed. It was still the same. Nice people, good music and excellent alcohol. Daryl immediately had a good feeling - just like last time. Like a déjà-vu.

His eyes scanned the area; not finding a single familiar face in the crowd, but he didn't care. He was here for the drinks, a round of pool and perhaps to find some company for the night. After getting himself the first beer of the evening, Daryl joined a group of three men, who had just made their way to the pool tables. They were open and friendly; letting him join the game, of course and welcoming him in their circle.

'Start Me Up' by The Rolling Stones was blaring from the old jukebox as Daryl's cue hit the white cue ball on the pool table.

He was definitely in for a long night. That much was clear.

You didn't know why you had decided to go in town this evening. Perhaps it was the urge to escape the same four walls around you and with that your mind - which had become more and more a trap for you the past days and weeks... Tess told you to get over it. Over him. And you tried. God knows you did, but you just couldn't. You felt utterly stupid for holding on to this, but your heart acted on its own will. One night was enough to make you a fool for man, who you barely knew and you'd most likely never see again.

You sighed; grimacing as you stopped at the bar.

I need a drink, you convinced yourself, but deep down you knew that you just went there because it reminded you of him. You weren't able to escape it. It was like an invisible string pulling you in. So, you did what you had already done nth times before... Stepping inside the 'rowdy Raccoon'.

The by now familiar smell of alcohol, cold smoke and a trillion different perfumes hit your nose. Without wasting another thought, you stepped directly over to the bar counter; sliding on one of the stools. "Hey, Y/N," the bartender greeted you with a smile. You became quite good friends over the last few months. "Hey, Magna." "Same as always?" You nodded. "Yeah, please." The woman with inked skin wiped her hands on a towel and immediately went to work.

"There you go, honey," Magna said; placing a glass in front of you. "One Whiskey Cola." "Thanks."

You did some small talk with Magna; trying to not get too lost in your own thoughts - and it worked. In your eyes, it was a success. A step in the right direction - but only mere minutes later, you got thrown off track once again; harder than ever before...

Returning from a visit to the restrooms, Magna placed a second glass of Whiskey Cola in front of you, causing you to frown. "Magna, I didn't-" "I know," the bartender interrupted you immediately. "But that guy over there insisted on buying you a drink. Guess you got a secret admirer." Magna winked; jutting her head into the direction of the pool tables. Still frowning, your eyes followed her gesture - and what you then saw made you question your sanity for a good minute...

Beside the left pool table stood none other than the man who had managed to turn your whole world upside down within a few hours; a cue in his right hand, a beer in the other. He was talking to some other dudes he was playing with - all of them unfamiliar to you and not his motorcycle gang. The signature angel-winged vest, chestnut brown curls and black baseball cap was unmistakable... It was Daryl.

"No fucking way..." You mumbled underneath your breath; still trying to grasp this. You were quite a bit afraid that you were drunk already or dreaming and therefore hallucinating - but when your eyes met those endless blue-grey orbs, you knew it was real. Your thundering heart inside of your chest was enough proof. The world seemed to stop turning around you. All you could see, was the handsome biker across from you - and the beautiful, cheeky little smirk playing around the corners of his mouth.

Like in a trance, you slipped off the bar stool; legs carrying you over to the man in leather and jeans.

"D-Daryl?" You breathed in disbelief, as your hand twitched beside your body; desperately resisting the urge to touch him and see if he was truly real.

The man kept on smirking softly; nodding at you. "Hey, cowgirl. Thought I was never gonna see ya again... 'N yet here we are."

Tags: @dixons-sunshine @angelwings-crossbowstrings @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @imadisneyprincessiswear @loz-3 @fictive-sl0th @erebus-et-eigengrau @belitoxx @coleigh-1205-blog @chaoticevilbakugo @thevegandarkelf @lou12346789 @marvelcasey05 @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @cakesandtom @mayday2007

If you want to be added or removed from this taglist, please let me know!

[afreaks-hangoutspot]

@inthedayswhenlandswerefew MAGGIEEEEEEEE YOU DID IT AGAIN 😭😭😭 GOD I THINK THIS IS THE SIGN I NEEDED TO GO ON A FULL REPOSTING SPREE OF YOUR STUFF SOON OR SOMETHING CAUSE WHAAAT???

Okay, fair warning, probably long ass TL;DR ahead! Need to get this off my chest cause whoo!

Your works are, suffice to say, a joy to read through (and I still have quite a lot to go through since I only discovered you fairly recently!), from start to finish—but something about your endings always seems to stick with me.

I first noticed it when I’d finished Martyrs and, reasonably absolutely destroyed, couldn’t see how it ended off on a ‘hopeful’ note… and then I read it again. Suddenly what was only a pile of pure bittersweet hurt was giving way to my hands as they dug deeper—and it hurt to dig, hurt just the same as it did the first time and maybe even more than that, but I did it anyway—to unveil this absolutely gorgeous thing that felt like holding sunlight in the middle of a snowstorm; like going through a pile of ashes and seeing a newborn phoenix staring up at you, alive, when you thought it could never renew itself again after so much damage was done to it. Like finally coming to terms that a lot has happened in your life and that maybe you’re not the same anymore, but you’ll be okay, you’ll heal. You can heal.

That hope I’d been once so blind to, now sitting there, shining. It’s the same thing with this ending now, and 1968’s.

I’m probably not making any sense, LMAO. It’s 4AM here and I feel like I’m hanging on to Earth by a thread, but I did want to get my thoughts out in case they are understandable. I read something once, though I don’t remember if it was a regular old post or a poem, that said some things just change you; and that maybe you might forget the exact reason why tomorrow, but you’ll always carry that inside you and remember it with a lot of fondness and gratitude when you see the smallest things that remind you of it. I don’t know, I just feel like your work really does that for me.

“Winter will last a year, or two, or five, but you will survive it.” Just… aaaaah I love this so much this excerpt encompasses it perfectly!!! It’s gentle, it doesn’t go setting the stage for a ‘well we’re doomed to suffer eternally ig’ AND I LOVE IT SO SO MUCH 🥹❤️ I think that if I had to choose a song for your writing, it’d be ‘And We Walk After’, just… yup, that was my yap session! Off to bed with my weird ass driveling grandpa antics! Man I’m cringe, but I’m… free, kinda?

Cannibals [Chapter 10: Arteries and Rain] [Series Finale]

Series summary: You are his sister, his lover, his betrothed despite everyone else’s protests; you have always belonged to Aemond and believe you always will. But on the night he returns from Storm’s End with horrifying news, the trajectories of your lives are irrevocably changed. Will the war of succession make your bond permanent, or destroy the twisted and fanatical love you share?

Chapter warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), blood and violence and death, Alicent desperately trying to bond with her freak children.

Word count: 4.6k

❤️ All my writing can be found HERE! 💙

Tagging: @themoonofthesun @chattylurker @moonfllowerr @ecstaticactus @mrs-starkgaryen, more in comments 🥰

The same hand that once turned a key in the locks of closets and trunks, that moved his game piece across the board until it landed on the same space as yours and sent your bat hurtling back to the start, that shoved you into an ice-flecked stream in the Vale, that yanked you, bruised you, pushed you, trapped you, tore off your clothes, unraveled your braid, committed sins that others believe are beyond redemption; now you grasp for Aemond’s hand and it is not there.

I’ve lost him, you think, splintering like a shell struck with a mallet. I was too late.

Then the Cannibal dives and banks steeply, and your outstretched, searching fingers close around Aemond’s wrist.

He slams into the Cannibal’s side, grabs a jutting black spine with his other hand, and pulls himself upwards to where you are. The ground is closer, the field and the castle and the Gods Eye where the bones of Daemon and Caraxes and Vhagar will spend eternity in the sunless depths. The wind is cold and vicious, howling in your ears. From where the Cannibal torched the Northmen, dark smoke billows into the air and makes your eyes water, makes your lungs burn.

As the Cannibal descends, Aemond speaks to you only once that you can hear. He is still panting, trying to catch his breath from the fall he had believed would kill him. He shouts to you over the roar of the wind and the deafening whirr of dragon wings: “I always knew you were worthy.”

On the shore of the Gods Eye, Cregan Stark is down on his knees. He has surrendered to spare the lives of his remaining men; thousands of soldiers are flocking to yield with him, their empty hands held high in contrition, submitting to the orders of troops carrying Aegon’s banner. You recognize your uncle Gwayne Hightower among them. Criston looks up at you as he holds Cregan at the lakeshore, a blade to his throat. The Cannibal soars past a group of Northmen sprinting for the trees, deserters, cowards, and they are engulfed in flames. As one of the men burns, your dragon scoops him into his mouth and bites down, fangs impaling flesh, jaws crushing bones. There is a muffled scream and then nothing. You feel the Cannibal’s hunger being dulled like you’ve eaten something hot and bloody yourself, boar or venison dripping with grease.

You land near Criston and Cregan Stark, the gales from the Cannibal’s wings rocking the trees and making waves on the dark, enigmatic blue of the lake, a color that reminds you of Aegon’s eyes. The Cannibal is already impatient, lurching from side to side. He wants this stranger off of his back. He will tolerate no one but you.

“You should dismount,” you tell Aemond, and he promptly finds a path to the earth, scrambling down the onyx-black spines that protrude from the dragon’s thorax and taking several hurried strides away. The Cannibal glares at him and growls, steam rising from his flaring nostrils. But he can feel who Aemond is to you—ricochets of animal lust and episodic tenderness and doubt and surety and hatred and love—and so the Cannibal refrains from killing him.

You climb down from your dragon and walk to where Cregan Stark is kneeling. Criston is gaping at you, thunderstruck. Aemond steps closer to you and draws his sword. He carries the weapon that belonged to Aegon before he was burned at Rook’s Rest, the Conqueror’s sword Blackfyre. Aemond is watching you, and you have the impression he is trying to tell you something. You feel echoes of the wounds the past year has left in him: regret, shame, the most inescapable pain he’s ever known. He doesn’t want you to have to feel the same things.

You recall what Mother, standing defiantly behind the iron bars of her cell, once told Rhaenyra: Perhaps you imagine that you will kill every last Green, and all of our loyalists throughout the Seven Kingdoms, millions of people, and therefore you will have no use for bricks upon which to build a lasting peace. But I think that would be a mistake.

Cregan Stark, tall and rugged and with dark hair that runs to his broad shoulders, bows his head. He seems stoic, but his breathing is rapid and you can see his jugular pulsing madly in his throat. He has never met you before, but there’s only one person you could be. “Princess.”

Snowflakes and cinders fall from the sky. Escaped strands of your silver hair blow in the wind. I hate him, you think. But nothing I do now can raise the dead. And there must be a future for those of us who are left. You say to the Warden of the North: “Yield and you will live.”

“We yield,” Cregan Stark agrees immediately, placing his sword on the ground in front of him. It is Valyrian steel; it is called Ice. If he obeys, you will let him keep it. “We will return to the North at once.”

“No,” you say. “You will march south to pledge fealty to the king. And your men will help us rebuild, since their support emboldened Rhaenyra’s treason.”

Behind you, the Cannibal snarls and gnashes his teeth, stained with fresh blood and flecked with shreds of organs. He is the largest claimed dragon in the world. Vhagar is dead, and so are Caraxes and Syrax, Dreamfyre and Meleys, Moondancer, Seasmoke, Vermax, and Arrax. But there are some beasts left as well. Vermithor, Silverwing, and Tessarion are free. Nettles is somewhere far away with her mount Sheepstealer. Sunfyre is healing on Dragonstone. Little Joffrey Velaryon has the young creature Tyraxes, and his silver-haired brother Aegon has Stormcloud. The juvenile Shrykos was orphaned when Jaehaerys died, but Jaehaera still possesses Morghul. And so both the Targaryens and their dragons will live on for generations, and perhaps forever.

“Yes, princess,” Cregan Stark replies, gazing with thinly-veiled horror at the Cannibal, a monster that only someone who has known hatred could see beauty in.

You tell Aemond and Criston: “The Cannibal and I will escort you to King’s Landing to ensure your safety. I’ll keep him as far from your men as I can. I know he unnerves people. Believe me, he doesn’t want to be so close to you either. Not unless he intends to eat you.”

Criston is sheathing his sword. Aemond is smiling, faint and tentative but proud, so proud.

~~~~~~~~~~

When you arrive it is raining in King’s Landing, cold and misty and grey; soon there will be snow. Winter will last a year, or two, or five, but you will survive it. Aemond is already sending letters to Dorne and the Triarchy to forge trade agreements that will help supply the realm with food. He feels responsible for attending to this. His destruction in the Riverlands has endangered everyone. You rarely speak to Aemond, nothing beyond logistics. You are relieved that he survived, and your fury is waning like a crescent moon…but you don’t know what to say to him. Each time you try, you think of Luca and Jace and all the others, and your words crumble like bodies charred to ashes. Aemond gives you space and silence, but he watches you, and sometimes you overhear him telling the soldiers stories of the Conqueror’s wife Visenya, the same reverence in his voice he’s had since childhood.

At the gate of the Red Keep, Mother rushes out and embraces you first, collides with you, collapses and sobs into your shoulder as you hold her like a good daughter would. She is so thin you fear you will shatter her. Jaehaera and Maelor follow after Mother, so much older than you remember them. Jaehaera runs to embrace you too, but Maelor hesitates by the gate. His sister goes back for him, promises that everything will be okay now, and walks with him to where you are crumpled on the cobblestones with Mother. Jaehaera hugs you tightly, but Maelor is still frowning. Perhaps he does not remember the details, but he knows he has the sense that you once betrayed him.

“I’m so sorry, Maelor,” you whisper. “I would never hurt you. I would burn anyone who tried to.” And he relents and allows you to bundle him into your arms, and once he’s there he finds it feels like home.

Mother is weeping for Helaena and Daeron and Aegon. “Aegon is alive,” you say. “He is wounded, but he is safe and has been in hiding on Dragonstone. Aemond has arranged for a ship to bring him here. You will see him tomorrow or the day after.”

“Long live the king!” Criston shouts, you all echo him, Mother with an astonished smile and tears glistening in her large dark eyes. Her firstborn son is back from the dead. She will have the chance to try to learn to love him properly.

“My girl, my brave girl,” Mother says, touching your face and your hair. Your eyes are savage; you smell like smoke. “What’s happened to you? Rhaenyra told me that you’d given birth to a baby at Heart’s Home, that she and I shared a grandson, but…” She looks around, hoping that a maid will appear carrying an infant with Jace’s pug nose and unruly dark curls. And there is such a child, but not in the land of the living. You explain this, and Mother takes your hand and leads you to the sept, and for the first time in your life you join her without protest. Together you light candles for those who were lost, and a little more of your bitterness burns away as the wax melts into pools and cools like lava that runs into the sea.

The king returns to his city, and the smallfolk pour into the streets to welcome him. He is ashamed of his scars, his infirmity, the fact that he must be carried in a litter, but to them he is a man who has suffered just like they have—maimed and marooned and grieving martyred loved ones—and proved that there is hope for a different sort of future. That first day, Aegon spends ten hours on the Iron Throne listening to the stories of his people and learning what they need, you and Aemond standing on either side of him. Each time the Cannibal flies overhead, growling in a rumble like thunder and casting a vast shadow, they do not shrink away but beam up at him as their protector, their assurance that no further harm can befall King’s Landing. Women embroider him into their blankets and pillowcases. Children carve tiny wooden figurines of him. Cregan Stark and his Northmen bend the knee, as do representatives from scores of other treasonous houses. Aegon pardons them; but he grins wickedly when the Cannibal’s roars quake the Great Hall and battle-hardened warriors tremble.

You wait until Aegon is back to see Rhaenyra. You go to the dungeon with your brothers, Mother, and Criston, and you stand in the same place Rhaenyra did when she agreed to marry you to Jace. You were supposed to save her son. Instead, your love for Aemond condemned him.

What was our marriage for? What was any of this for?

The woman who once aspired to be queen and paid the price in blood is a ghost, hushed and weightless, hunched in a corner with her knees to her chest, her long unkempt silver hair thinning. When she sees you, she crawls to the door of her cell and grips the rusted iron bars with skeletal hands. Her watery eyes are frantic and darting like a trapped animal’s. “My children—”

“They are unharmed and still at the Eyrie with Rhaena,” you say, and Rhaenyra sobs in relief.

“Please let them live,” she begs you hoarsely. It is difficult to reach the Eyrie in the winter, but you could do it on the Cannibal. You could raze the fortress like Aemond burned Heart’s Home.

“Because you showed the same mercy to Helaena and Daeron?” Aegon seethes.

“They are helpless, they are blameless. It was my decision to go to war, not theirs.”

“And you shall atone for it,” Aegon taunts, leaning heavily on his walking stick. “I will take you to Dragonstone and Sunfyre will eat you alive. How do you like that, bitch? He’ll start at your feet and work his way up, and you will feel everything.”

“Jace would want her to be spared,” you say quietly.

“I’m not taking suggestions from the delegation of the dead.”

“I’m serious,” you say. Aegon’s scarred brow furrows, Criston is incredulous. Aemond is watching you thoughtfully, his right hand resting on Blackfyre’s hilt. Only Mother is not startled; instead she is studying Rhaenyra wearily, perhaps wondering if she can stomach the mercy the gods would want her to extend to even the most vile of sinners. “That’s why Jace married me,” you remind them. “So his family might survive even if the Blacks lost the war. And he swore to do the same in return. He was kind to me. When he traveled here to King’s Landing, he ensured that Helaena, Jaehaera, and Maelor were treated well. He would have protected Mother if our side had been defeated.”

“And so you’re proposing…what, that we free her?!” Aegon exclaims.

“Her dragon is gone. Her cause is hopeless. But half the realm fought for her, and if we are to earn their loyalty rather than merely compel it with force, we will need to offer concessions. We could give Driftmark to Joffrey—he is allegedly a Velaryon, after all—and allow Rhaenyra to reside there under guard. When her sons with Daemon are grown, we can marry them into the great houses that allied with us in the war. Both branches of the family will survive, and eventually they will grow back together through marriage, just as Jace and I learned to care for each other.”

“She’s a traitor.” Aegon glares hatefully at Rhaenyra. “She’s a murderer, she’s a monster.”

“She could make the same accusations against Aemond, or you, or me,” you say calmly. “Consider it. Take it to the council. You are the king, and it is your decision either way. But this war began with Targaryens devouring each other. And if we continue to succumb to this fury, this fire…then someday there will be none of us left, and our bloodlines and our dragons will be myths and nothing more.”

You turn to go, and Rhaenyra’s bony hand strikes out from between the bars of her cell and seizes your wrist. In a second, Aemond is there; but you shake your head and he retreats. You are not in danger. Rhaenyra cannot hurt you now.

“Where is Luca?” Rhaenyra asks you, pleading and pitiful, terrified of the answer. “Where’s the baby? No one has spoken of him, not the guards, not the maids. The people don’t seem to know he exists. Is he dead?” The tears that well up and glitter in your eyes reveal the truth before you can say it. Rhaenyra nods, weeping. “Aemond killed him when he burned Heart’s Home, didn’t he?”

Once you lied for Aemond on the night Luke died over Shipbreaker Bay: Luke was an enemy. He perished in combat. And now, just as instinctively, you refuse to disavow him. “No,” you say solemnly, agony choking your words, Aemond looking at you, racked with guilt and entirely mystified. “Luca died of fever three days before the attack. It wasn’t Aemond’s fault.”

“So Jace’s line has ended.” Rhaenyra has lost him all over again. She releases your hand and sinks to the stone floor, kneeling there despondently.

“Yes,” you say, briefly touching a palm to one of her jagged, waifish shoulders. And you feel a flicker of something you would have thought was impossible: sympathy, compassion, kinship. “But you still have Joffrey.” You still have a son of Harwin Strong.

You leave the drafty gloom of the dungeon and return to Maegor’s Holdfast, where life is beginning again. Maids are stripping away every vestige of Rhaenyra’s tenure here. A hundred cats, once brought to the Red Keep by Grandsire, trot lazily through the corridors and groom themselves on windowsills. You take Jaehaera and Maelor with you to collect seashells on the chilly, fog-swept beach and teach them how to make mosaics. You craft one depicting Vhagar for Aemond, and give it to him without a word. He brings you a new roost for bats, forget-me-nots painted onto the oak wood box, a deep blue velvet cover to blot out the daylight.

Each night your bed seems to grow bigger, more lonely, more unnaturally vacant. When you are here…think of me, Aemond once wrote to you; and gradually, like mountains are formed over eons, you do.

~~~~~~~~~~

Several weeks after you arrive home, you bleed for the first time since you gave birth to Luca, your body healed and replenished, your corporal almanac beginning again. Soon you will have another child. Soon your hatred and your grief will fade even further, never disappearing but becoming cool to the touch and clear like glass. The flow of blood is heavy, and your cramps are terrible; but you know what will relieve you.

You find Aemond in the small council chamber, where he spends so much of his time. Sometimes he is in meetings with Aegon and Criston and Mother and the rest of the king’s advisors, sometimes he is examining maps and making calculations. But often he is simply here alone and empty-handed, the weight of the past year mooring him like an anchor does a ship. He does not seem to hear you come in. He is sitting with his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together, his melancholic blue gaze on the floor. He is mourning Vhagar. He is mourning what he once had with you.

You sweep across the room to him, crimson gown, bare feet. You lift Aemond’s chin and say, soft and gentle: “Enough.”

He looks at you as if he’s not sure if this is real. Then after a moment, he smiles. “I missed you.”

“I know.” You flash a mischievous grin, taking several steps back from him. “If I ran, do you think you could catch me?”

“I do.”

“I’m very fast.”

“But you want to be caught.”

Aemond lunges for you; you snatch your hand away just as his fingernails are biting into the vulnerable flesh of your forearm. You bolt to the other side of the small council chamber, careening around the table. Aemond follows, his silver hair flowing behind him, his boots thumping against the floor. He grabs you, hurls you against the wall, pins you there with his hips as he rips off his black leather tunic and kisses you messily, deeply, gulping down all the time he’s lost. Your hair is torn from its braid. Your pulse is racing, low moans spilling from your lips. Aemond is not taken aback at all when he reaches under your scarlet gown to find a bundle of bloodied rags tucked between your thighs. He whisks them away and replaces them with his right hand, rough and forceful.

It’s been a year since he’s touched you this way, and you’ve had a child since then. You stop him, a palm pressed to his chest. Suddenly, you are self-conscious. You must warn him. “I don’t look the same as I used to. I don’t feel the same.”

“You’re still you,” Aemond says tenderly. His thumbprint traces the arc of your jaw, skims down the front of your throat, ghosts delicately over the scar that begins at your collarbone. This is where he mended you with a needle and thread; this is where he almost lost you. “You belong to me, you always will. Nothing can change that.” Then he kisses you again, and you are drunk in it, warm all over and melting into the forbidden ancient magic you share, the violence and the hatred and the devotion and the love, the insatiable hunger that thuds in your tangled arteries.

Aemond drags you to the table and throws you down onto it. You can feel bruises blooming like violets beneath your skin, the hot euphoric pressure of trapped blood. You try to crawl away from him, scratching your way across the table. Aemond grips your ankles and hauls you closer, wrenches you onto your back, pushes your thighs apart and buries his fingers in you—slick lust and clotted blood, muscles loosening with desperate need—and unlaces his trousers with his other hand so at last he can take you as a husband would. He leans down over the table and seizes your jaw to hold you still, watching your face as he pushes himself inside you, knowing that he’s not hurting you, knowing that you are whole again after a year of having pieces carved away.

Aemond thrusts carefully at first, and then hard and deep, and you hook your arms around his neck and pull yourself upright so you can taste him, whisper to him, moan and whimper into his sweat-damp throat. Aemond tugs down your bodice so he can stroke and bite at your breasts. And you feast on each other until you are both satiated and gasping for air, your blood staining his skin and trickling down his legs, the table painted with smudges of viscous red. Before you leave together for a bath murky with soap and steam, Aemond drags his tongue over the wood, drinking your copper and iron and youth and desire; and when he smiles at you with blood on his lips and chin, you lick his face clean.

Later that night in the hour of the wolf, his tasks of governance behind him, Aemond comes to your chambers and climbs into bed beside you. And he holds you like he did when you were a girl he had shoved into a frigid stream in the Vale, burning up with fever as The Stranger stood in your doorway.

~~~~~~~~~~

You are married on Dragonstone. You and Aemond ask for Aegon’s permission and no one else’s. You want Mother there even if you fear she will not be able to hide her disappointment, but she and Criston attend and make no complaints, standing together amidst the black volcanic rocks and the mist, murmuring back and forth about the many oddities of your house. You don’t mind; you are glad they have each other. It is very lonely to be surrounded by creatures so different from yourself.

Jaehaera and Maelor giggle as they chase minnows and skittering red crabs around the tidepools. Aegon watches them from where he is sprawled on the wet sand swigging his wine, smiling wistfully, effusively admiring the seashells they bring him, heaps overflowing in their tiny hands. When Vermithor roars from the other side of the island, Maelor looks up and gazes intently through the fog as if someone has called his name. Perhaps one day he will claim the Bronze Fury. When you return to Maegor’s Holdfast, you will give him the small oak dragon that Aegon once carved for you.

Afterwards you tell Mother, blood from the ancient Valyrian ceremony still drying on your lips: “You were right.”

She is puzzled, her brow crinkling as she dabs gingerly at your wound with her green handkerchief, embroidered with the Hightower of Oldtown. “About what, dear?”

“A year ago, I didn’t know anything besides how it had always been with Aemond. I didn’t really have a choice in the matter. But now I do.”

Mother distracts herself by tending to your lip, some infinitesimal way in which she can mend you. Her white hands are wrinkled and frail. Her coppery hair thrashes in the cruel wind. “You being happy brings me peace.”

Your voice goes quiet, somber, ashamed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save Helaena and Daeron. I’m sorry I failed.”

“Oh, darling, it wasn’t your fault. We tried, didn’t we?” Mother says, smiling sadly and cradling your cheek. And then she tells you for the first time in your life: “I’m proud of you.”

During the short journey home, you sail past the island of Driftmark, where Rhaenyra, her three surviving sons, and Rhaena now reside with the council’s assent. As you peer over the side of the ship, you spy sapphire dorsal fins of sailfish rising up through the frothing surf, and you lift Maelor so he can see them too. In King’s Landing, there are statues being chiseled out of marble to be placed throughout the city, not just effigies of Jaehaerys and Helaena and Daeron but also Jace, Luke, Baela. The old wounds must be stitched closed. The realm must be united again. The Targaryens must not allow their hunger for fire and blood to turn inwards, lest the last of the Valyrians and all their dragons perish from the earth. Your first son will be named Lucerion after the child you lost; Aemond has already promised this. Jaehaera, sweet and benign like her dead mother, has been betrothed to Jace’s brother Joffrey.

When his wings have healed enough, Sunfyre flies home to King’s Landing to be with Aegon. When fragments of Vhagar’s bones and teeth wash up on the shore of the Gods Eye, Aemond has them brought south so he can burn them. The Cannibal does not slumber in the Dragonpit, nor does he seek you out for comfort or companionship. He ranges far and only comes to you when kindling threats make you hateful again. There are rebellions in the Riverlands where Aemond has made generations of enemies, but Harrenhal and its vassals are always loyal. Since the day you claimed the Cannibal, you are rarely ill. Your chills and fevers and headaches have vanished like a dead language no one is left to remember.

One day summer will return, and there will be roses and blue jays in the garden again, ladybugs and dragonflies and forget-me-nots. But tonight snow is falling outside, hushed and powdery, and you are reminded of when you were at Heart’s Home with Luca and Jace and Lady Caro. You miss being able to talk to Jace; you are grievously aware of the absence of Luca’s fledgling weight in your arms. Aemond knows this, and he understands that you are in need of a distraction.

On the floor of your bedchamber as a sweltering fire crackles in the hearth, the five of you are gathered around the board. Jaehaera and Maelor are finally old enough to play. Jaehaera has inherited Helaena’s yellow butterfly; Maelor’s game piece is Daeron’s purple shadowcat. Your new bats are scrabbling out of their roost and gliding through the window you’ve left open for them. Their names are Ocean, Sorrow, Stream, Winter, Dreams, Rain, Peace.

Presently, it is Jaehaera’s turn. She tosses the dice but they tumble too far, clattering across the room. Aegon helps her fetch them. Maelor asks if you will help him make a mosaic of Vermithor the Bronze Fury, and of course you agree.

“I love you,” you say to Maelor as you comb your fingers through his white-blonde hair, and he stares up at you, bewildered. Perhaps no one has ever told him this before. You say it again, smiling. “I love you.”

Now it’s Aemond’s turn. He rolls the dice, pretends to misread nine dots as ten, lands on Aegon’s space and sends his piece back to the start instead of yours.

[mari-lair]

i feel kinda embarrassed about skimming over the tbhk stuff for the isat stuff cause like you're having so much fun with it and whatnot and im not choosing to leave it later

and thing is idk when later is

it could straight up be never

additionally idk how to start tbhk so like please help me out >-<

No need Anon, you don't have to like everything I post, if you're here for isat you are here for that! And all is good in the world.

if you are genuinely curious though here is a warning/ how to get into.

first the warning: tbhk got VERY different vibes from isat.

The characters mental health will deteriorate over time and arguments are how most issues are fixes, but i doubt most characters will get a happy ending. A big chunk of their issues will not be addressed or explicitly stated (they are all around 15 yo, they are not nearly as mature as the isat cast). Fond family is not the focus, romance is! And all of the main romances are varying levels of unhealthy and selfish. All of them. For every nice quality someone has, they have an equally as hurtful one (be it to themselves, to others, or both)

Also here are some trigger warnings: allude to suicide, death, sexual harassment, psychological abuse, choking, feelings of dehumanization and lack of hope or even identity (a big part of the cast is already dead and some humans have issues), horror imagery cause of the supernaturals and curses, heavy allude to child abuse (a character is a child soldier but we never go in detail about his past on it), and someone gets eaten alive (not cannibalism cause it was a demon + most of it was censored but still that scene was chilling)

If that still interests you, I suggest the manga cause while the anime is serviceable they don't have art as good as the manga, the lines and the expressions one of my favorites, i love the art style, like LOOK AT THIS:

the scenarios are cool too it's not just the expressions/way they 'move' with their whole body

and if you like isat the lack of colors of the manga very likely won't be a turn off

The anime also make the fatal mistake of not including a very short arc (2 chapters) where it both properly introduces one of my favorite characters, and gives one of the main guys A BIG character development. I don't want to spoil the arc or what character i'm talking so i'll just show the title.

overall the manga have more detail and I personally want to eat up every character quirk and little crumbs of depth that I can.

The manga have a whole 120 chapters and isn't finished though. So if you want a test drive to see if you like the overall vibes you can check the pilot, which have 3 chapters and while it is very different from the main story, the vibes/writing is similar.

If don't want a test drive/have patience for slow build ups, here is the first chapter of the official tbhk manga

[weirdocat83]

Canon divergence Arcane au!! Post-apocalypse AU!! (Ofc with a side of timebomb)

Based on the part of season 2 where Viktor is literally taking over the world and also the alternate universe where he literally succeeded.

I think it’d be interesting to see a jinx/ekko/jayce team up. Would they get along? Absolutely not. Jinx literally blew up the council room and Jayce created hextech which contributed to a loss of wealth for the undercity. Jinx and Jayce would kill each other if not for the fact that they’re probably the only people who have survived.

If you’re asking why jinx, Ekko and Jayce, it’s because Jinx and Ekko could conceivably avoid Viktor’s control (we literally see jinx avoid it and Ekko has the Z-drive) and Viktor straight up has a soft spot for Jayce and while the Viktor who is Actively Causing the apocalypse may not show it, AU Viktor could have shown him how to survive in the Apocalypse. Also Jinx and Ekko just have incentive to keep him alive considering he’s probably the one who would know how to kill Viktor best (considering the whole AU thing and being his partner for Years)

I think this kind of au would be an interesting way to dissect the darker parts of their characters.

We see a lot of that from jinx in the show and I do think she would struggle to find the will to Stay Alive when literally everyone else is gone. Tbh I think she’d mostly be there on spite and murderous intent for Viktor. She is in Survival Mode which, all things considered, isn’t a bad thing in the Apocalypse. To an extent, they all are. The apocalypse def made her crazy less strange and more helpful. The ability to make weaponry out of basically anything and a willingness to blow up anything that moves is useful all things considered.

Ekko is grappling with the fact that pretty much all the firelights are dead or won’t last long while also trying to keep Jinx and Jayce from killing each other (intentionally or not). He’s lost a lot of people in a short amount of time and is Not Coping Well. He’s always focusing on what’s in front of him but it’s all kind of really bad rn tbh. He’s more temperamental than usual and it matches up badly most of the time with Jinx. She knows this logically but also doesn’t really know what to do abt it. Sometimes to get their minds off everything they talk abt traveling far away from everything where Viktor hasn’t reached yet and living the rest of their lives peacefully. They know it’s practically a pipe dream but sometimes a dream can be all you need to hold out some hope. Ekko is usually the strategist, planning where they go and when. In battle/right before he can give brief warnings because of the Z-drive and has had to adapt to using more force than he’s used to in order kill Viktor’s minion things.

Jayce is… weird honestly. He just went through one apocalypse to get back to another which is arguably worse. He’s prepared and knows what this is like but sometimes the “rich kid” personality still shines through. Like, he’ll eat raw food and sleep on the floor but he’ll still complain abt how he misses his bed and the feasts the kirammans used to throw. I feel like he’d learn a lot abt the undercity from mostly Ekko but also jinx. Jayce being pretty useless without a proper lab would be pretty funny when Jinx and Ekko have always operated without one. Jayce is usually the one getting resources like food/shelter.

I think it’d be interesting to see them fight and interact together considering they’re all so different and we never really see them together in canon.

Ekko and Jinx spend a lot of time together in this au both out of necessity and because they know each other better than anyone. Sometimes their relationship reminds Jayce of his and Viktor’s ‘partnership’. Jayce would get closer to the two even if he’ll never truly understand them. I think Jayce and Jinx would go from “I am two seconds from murdering your ass” to a weird type of sibling-ish relationship. Meanwhile Jayce and Ekko would be bonding while planning what to do next. Also every time Jayce mentions Viktor, Jinx and Ekko both look at him in the “I Know What You Are” type of way. They know better than anyone that just because someone is your enemy, that doesn’t mean you stop loving them.

[hewasverycinematic]

Psychological warfare has been committed

So in-ho is my second favourite character from S2 of squid game (After the salesman cause daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn)

anyway

he's so complex and layered so I thought I'd list all the times I noticed him just fucking with Gi-hun

Sang-woo styling

So the first one has been said before many a time and it's how he's obviously styled his hair similar to Sang-woo. This works in two ways; One being that he's showing familiarity to Gi-hun, making him instantly comfortable around him, but ALSO that he should not be trusted in the same way Sang-woo definitely shouldn't have been. But also in a way that's so subconscious to Gi-hun that he wouldn't even register it. The other way this works is that the fluffiness makes him seem literally soft just from looking at him, making not only Gi-hun trust him but the rest of their little squad. So even if Gi-huns sub-conscious kicks in with the "maybe lets not trust him, he looks like that dude who betrayed me last time and he's got that same number as someone else I shouldn't have trusted" he would look insane (Rightly so.) This also makes Jung-bae not telling him he's suspicious of 001 even more painful.

Mingle

Then grabbing his best friend in the mingle game. Not much to say on this one, I originally thought it was odd bc why Jung-bae? It makes itself clear by the end of the season that he needed Jung-bae to stay alive for the gut punch at the end. It's also very clear, however, that Dae-ho would 100000% have paired up with him, so why did In-ho need to take him specifically? Well, he knows there's not being enough rooms for everyone. So he knew he would probably have to kill someone and this also makes sure Gi-hun doesn't see this side of him and cause tension/distrust early on. (He saw his reaction with Sang-woo and the glass bridge remember)

X O

He originally votes to continue the game, telling Gi-hun that he did it because of him. This really is a double blow, because he's basically shifting the blame of the games continuing onto Gi-hun. If he hadn't been there to give faith to "Young-il", he possibly would've voted X and this set of games would have ended. But he's also, once again, makes Gi-hun believe he has the power to make change and help people. The tone in which he speaks to him, whilst also being a bit told off, makes him come across as meek and clueless i.e. harmless. He does this alot in front of Gi-hun, the amount of times he apologises and says he must've misunderstood or didn't know adds to this.

The second time he votes, he changes to X. And, again, says it's because of Gi-hun. Repeating the same steps as before backwards, but getting the exact same result. Gi-huns ego is boosted (literally showing he can change O's minds) and appearing powerless as a follower.

Late night talking

Narratively, I love this scene, we get to hear directly from In-ho his motivations for going into the first game. But we also get to see how messed up he is that he's lying about something so deep and personal. Using it as a way to get closer to Gi-hun, appearing to let his guard down, I honestly think In-ho needed that conversation as he seemed to have disappeared to Jun-ho before he could properly grieve and process. Then again there's a gap in his history that we as the audience do not know about. After he won and before becoming the Front Man (I'll probably make another post on my theories for S3) In terms of Gi-hun this conversation is probably the one which solidifies his trust in 001 as he's showing he does care about someone so much he is willing to risk his life and ensure others death. The reasoning mirroring Gi-huns in the first series, they are one and the same in that aspect. But it's so evil because In-ho knows all this and uses their shared grief against him.

"We'll have to hope more of the other side died"

After the Mingle game, Gi-hun suggests counting how many people are left on each side, and In-ho responds with "We'll have to hope more people from the other side died". This instantly made me think of the scene in the first season where Ji-Yeong is mock praying that they can send more people to their deaths for their own survival. This is so on the nose that I'm surprised Gi-hun didn't pick up what In-ho was putting down. He's slowly drip-feeding into Gi-hun that he's thinking the exact way the hosts want them to. Us vs. them as opposed to us vs. the machine, which is a direct link to when the frontman tells Gi-hun that the games won't change unless the world does. He's also got a slight smirk in his eyes which is essentially him internally going "I told ya so"

"Is that really what you want?

Before the third vote Gi-hun & co are discussing how to make sure they win the vote. Whilst Gi-hun wants to go over to try and persuade them to change from O to X, In-ho says "If we provoke them now, we may end up in a big fight before we even get to vote. Is that what you want Gi-hun"

And then after the tied vote and during the conversation of The Plan�� Gi-hun asks "Are you going to kill each other all night and hope you survive? Is that what you want Young-il?"

This is so ironic because they're saying the exact same thing back to each other "Are you sure you want to fight?" Which has sooo many layers. Yes, they're talking about the players being split into X vs. O but what Gi-hun doesn't realise yet is that he is the O (player) and In-ho is the X (host). As In-ho says as the frontman, the games only work if there are players. And the games stop if there's no one to host (If society changes and there's no wealth disparity making VIPs obsolete).

And that's just the literal meaning of what they've said. The fact that this is the first time Gi-hun has repeated In-hos' behaviour, in a somewhat catty way and not in an "I'm just like you, you should trust me" way. It still shows how similar the two are. I think this is why people theorise that Gi-hun will be the next front man. I think the point is that during the rebellion, he already is the frontman, just to the players following his orders.

Also, can I just add the cinematography of the beam separating the two is *chefs kiss*

Repeating Jung-bae

So we all saw the jealous look In-ho had when listening in to Gi-hun and Jung-baes conversation. I, actually, think he saw it as another way to toy with Gi-hun later on as we see. In the conversation with Jung-bae they're laughing about how much of a cheapskate Gi-hun was when they were friends. In-ho is in a totally non 457 way showing he can be the same as his best friend, but with it being such a common thing to say, if this wasn't a show it'd be something to easily overlook. With it being a show, I cannot overlook the parallel.

Rebellion things

Smaller things I noticed:

When discussing the special game he only said "you" instead of "we" - "How are you going to get the guns" etc.

Until he says "Small sacrifice for the greater good? In that case, I'm with you" - Further pointing out how similar they have become.

He didn't shoot the guards when they were in the stairwell/corridor unless he was speaking. Possibly to cover up the fact he wasn't shooting - Was he saving ammo? Doubt it - Says he's nearly out of ammo without checking - Not wanting to be hit in the crossfire? Maybe

Saving Gi-hun

So he saves Gi-hun twice, once when he's about to be shot and again when he shoots Jung-bae instead. I don't believe this is just because he's grown fond of him but because, as Gi-hun said in the limo, the games are so much more entertaining for the VIPs with him in. Unfortunately, I have to speculate that him being in there has caused more money to be donated by the VIPs, further upholding the games. The reality is Gi-hun was never going to be killed. He has plot armour both for us and the VIPs watching.

The final fuckery from In-ho as Young-il is the "Are you sure" with the most suspicious look on his face. People kept saying that that was the ammo that shot Jung-bae, but it wasn't, it wasn't even the same gun. It was really the last of the ammo they had, and giving it to In-ho was just leaving them defenceless, being the catalyst to the retreat and end of Jung-baes life.

Other sass

Joking about the umbrella dalgona as if he wasn't watching

"Besides, we've got a previous winner with us" as if he wasn't also a winner

Making dad jokes about his name

Disappearing in mingle to reenforce to Gi-hun that he cares about his wellbeing

unrelated note: people saying why would he kill his own guards, as we see with no-eul, they're seen the same as the players. (trash) he doesn't care about them either

[hermanoga]

I relate to Lu Guang a bit too personally. And whether that's for better or for worse I don't really know.

For me, timeloop and timelines are metaphors for how we cope with PTSD. Lu guang's character flower is forget-me-not. It's about remembrance. Even though the object of melancholy is cheng xiaoshi, I think it's more about lu guang's perception of his personal grief that's being portrayed here.

Talking from my experience and the meagre knowledge I have about subjective perception of time, reconstructive memory is the most significant tool to negotiate with one's trauma. While coping with PTSD, we

1. Continually revisit the same traumatic memory again and again even though it's traumatic enough to immobilize us to the point of causing physical agony

2. We dissociate. Even though fundamentally our cognitive system functions in such a way that constantly blur the division between reality and imagination (meaning that none of us in any state can have a concrete sense of absolute, objective and non-fragmented reality, our sense of reality is a version of reality which we subconsciously create, hence our subjective biases are mixed with the version of reality we create), post traumatic encounters with this cognitive function feels jarring.

The multiple timelines we have seen so far may really have been the overlapping of different lines/stages of reconstructive memories Lu Guang has created so far for himself. Two poles of the spectrum of extreme grief are the death of the person grieving or the person finally being successful to manage to overcome the loop of trauma.

With some amount of needed sobriety, I can say...Cheng Xiaoshi really died. And his death is really unchangeable. Up until Yingdu episode 3, this is my most honest theory. I hate to say this but...it is a doomed love story that was doomed even before the narrative began. Or probably it was never about love at all, but about grief and reconciling with our grief? Omg Given vibes.

If the storytelling shifts in a way where I will feel : wait, the timeloop is actually happening and it's beyond lu guang's mindscape and memories and it is really fantasy and supernatural so I should change my spectacles and DIVE IN...then it's a different story (which I personally yearn for)

what should I say? Lu Guang reminds me of a phase of me I have already left behind and grown out of it for good. It will be realistic to make it a story of grief and reconciliation but...well that's just too sad. There is no other justification, it's just sad. I know good literature/art is not escape from real problems but rather poses a mirror to it but...it's just...sad...

...

was it my fault that I came here expecting an epic Achillean love story? maybe. And that will be... *sigh*. I'll think twice before choosing any media which is not 'canonically' a love story.

I came to watch link click with those expectations. Like mdzs? there are impossible perils and inhuman agony of separation but somehow...they get their deserved happy ending at the end.

The rhetoric of "probably...in the next life, we will meet each other again" is well good and fantastic but the problem is I will not be the same person in my next life writing this Tumblr meta. I am a fragile human, I only live for once. (I also dream that in my next life I will overthrow capitalism but ykw that's saved for the next life and I can't really have full authority over what my next meal will be)

Vulnerability and acknowledgement of vulnerability is central to link click and honestly it gives it the most power. Fragility of human existence, mundane or grand, is portrayed in a very poignant way. And love is just an emotion that somehow persists in remembering our deceased loved ones ...*me getting all cranky when love is not a metaphor for revolution that defies the rules of the universe*

well, honestly, ugh, I don't have much hope for Shiguang sailing. So much focus on Lu Guang's grief makes my chest heavy and tired to some extent (I am NOT criticising link click and calling it bad, NO). Love is so central to link click that if I have to reconcile with myself at the end saying : it's ok, it's a good show, great show, everything is good just don't ever think about shiguang...but HOW THE FUCK AM I NOT SUPPOSED TO THINK ABOUT SHIGUANG. Why did you make them obviously gay and so hamlet-horatio coded in love. tragic chinese time traveller boyfriends?

[averlym]

litany of the martyrs (click for better resolution!)

[karleksmumskladdkaka]

Diabolik Lovers Dark Fate Vol. 3 Chapter of the Last Quarter — Short Story Translation

A short, sweet, and comedic tale about the Mukami brothers being supportive siblings… and nearly committing accidental fratricide in the process. Meanwhile, Yui watches with increasing concern as the disaster unfolds.

Please refrain from using or reposting the translation anywhere without my permission.

[Note: The story is written in Yui's POV.]

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅✮⋆⋅

"Uh...something's wrong..."

Kou-kun groaned as he stared down at the pot.

"Should I help after all?"

"Eve, you mustn't get involved...okay? Just quietly watch over us."

Even though he said that, an increasingly terrible smell was spreading throughout the kitchen. Despite being told not to interfere, I was starting to get a bit worried.

"Maybe it needs some sugar-chan!?"

"Ah!!"

Before I could stop him, Yuma-kun dumped several sugar cubes into the pot, filling the room with a foul stench. I felt a sense of despair.

The whole mess had started when Ruki-kun injured his hand.

"Ruki-kun always cooks for us, so let's all pitch in today!"

And so, Kou-kun's plan of making dinner ended up as disastrously as I had feared.

"...This is...?"

"Well... It's supposed to be curry..."

Kou-kun glanced at me as if pleading for help. When I looked at Yuma-kun and Azusa-kun, they averted their eyes. In short, something horrible had been created. Its color was... to put it nicely, pitch black. After tasting it, Yuma-kun commented nonsensically that it was "bittersweetsalty". Dubbed "Mukami Brothers' Style Curry" it had transformed into a mysterious substance resembling anything but curry. Just by looking at it, anyone would instantly recognize it as inedible.

Yet, Ruki-kun was peering at the plates lined up on the table with a happy look on his face.

"Maybe it's better if we don't eat this..."

In spite of Kou-kun's uneasiness, Ruki-kun scooped up the substance with a spoon and brought it to his mouth.

". . ."

"It's disgusting."

We all shared the same fear. That even though he's immortal, Ruki-kun might die from this.

Despite his words, Ruki-kun's expression suddenly relaxed. We stared at him in amazement.

"R-Ruki-kun...!!"

"Ruki..."

"Ruki...! Damn it! Yer such a...!"

The three brothers, seemingly drained, collapsed to their knees on the spot. Ruki-kun simply watched them in silence as he continued to eat.

And then, afterwards—Ruki-kun was bedridden for three days and nights. Even though Vampires aren't supposed to get sick...

Seeing this, his brothers made a firm vow to themselves. They would never try to cook again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅✮⋆⋅

[accio-victuuri]

5/23/2024 zsww fake rumor house

this doesn’t make that much sense at all, for now. tho i’m waiting on some type of confirmation for the last part if we see xz at some point giving away fruits to the crew lol. and i love it when the convo or overheard conversation is all xz. i guess that’s why it was posted 10:05.

🐰: That’s it?

🐰: I don’t think so

🐰: take a look

🐰: Send it over, it’s not suitable for you

🐰: It looks long even when I wear it

🐰: No

🐰: If I sign it up for you, will you buy this?

fans are guessing that what xz meant with the it looks long even when he wears it is the jamy wee jeans.

🐰: Got it

🐰: I’ve paid you all, don’t cheat

🐰:You bought it

🐰:You! It’s you!

🐰:Send it to me and let me take a look first

🐰: don’t listen?

🐰:Okay, hang up

🐰:No

🐰: Oh no, it’s started

🐰:much better

🐰: Not so fragile, are you a part-time worker?

🐰: Hey hey hey

🐰: Hang up👋🏼

I was coaxed by my boss in three minutes, 6, I thought I was going to have to be a good person today. Hey, we are giving out benefits at noon, follow and eat pears, it’s so sweet

It was sent by express delivery. It arrived very quickly... Is this thing necessary? I don't understand.

source

[dykedvonte]

I think the most baffling thing about the Tulpar as a vessel to me is the fact that the ship really did only have a one way communication system.

I know it was cheap but even the most basic of vessels regarding major transport would have some way, shape or form for outside communication. Not only that but there was absolutely no form of innate emergency signal to show they may have been offline or in trouble despite clearly having a system to dock credits if they went off course. It's another factor that really shows that bad situations are made to get worse by design. One person who is required to relay all information to the crew and make all the choices without feedback. No way to update or call for help in case of a dire situation. No way to inform of inner personal conflicts and acquire procedures accordingly.

It really is like they are all in some sort of fucked up solitary confinement. They have their own world with strict roles that are meaningless in the end, as long as the cargo makes it, it doesn't matter what happens on that ship to the company. They don't want to hear anything and will come to conclusions on what happened based on how much pay they can withhold from the workers. Even what they do send is short, sterile and corporate to the extent it was likely written and sent out with a command by some random unmanned computer in an office.

There's something to be said about how unfair it is to force absolute power and control onto one person when you as an entity could do so much more to offload it but I've said it many times before so I won't again.

[lord-squiggletits]

Y'know the thing about writing feral/unhinged versions of Orion/Optimus, is that you can't go too far into the feral/unhinged direction to a point where OP's core character traits are lost or become too diminished. After all, in a multiple-continuity franchise like TF, part of what makes the stories make sense is that even if details change (sometimes major details), the characters are still recognizably themselves to one degree or another. (Although this isn't always the case due to executive meddling or some characters being such blank slates from their initial G1 appearances that there's basically nothing to model them off of, but I digress.)

It's pretty much another reason why I love IDW1 Optimus, bc he literally is a canonical feral/unhinged Optimus who's unhinged as a direct consequence of who he is as a person and what he's been through. Like, he still has those fundamental character traits of trying his best to be moral and make good choices, trying to be a role model, etc, except after 4 million years of war and untreated depression he's basically holding onto his sense of self by his fingertips. So when he "goes feral" e.g. losing his temper and beating up/killing people or saying hurtful things, he's feral in a way that's directly tied to his normal personality and not just as a random quirk he has.

IDW OP's feral moments arise from the gaps between "Optimus' attempts to be who he thinks he needs to be" and "the reality of the world that he can't fix/seems to only make worse" that cause him to lose hope, or become cynical, or lose his temper. But in this case, the unhinged-ness makes perfect sense because it arises out of Optimus trying and failing to be the best person or to make the most morally good choices he's trying to make. Basically, the "feral/unhinged" label is just another way of me trying to say that he's not just unhinged because he's weird or because he's a bad person, but because it's an emotional reaction (more like an emotional explosion due to pent-up emotions) to the context he exists in.

I'd also say that IDW OP's personality being generally reserved/stoic and (trying to be) noble works in tandem with those moments he has of going feral because it makes him more realistic. His psyche is treated in a way where the writers are like, "Hey what if the pressure of having to be everyone's idol and be the best person in the galaxy at all times actually broke Optimus down mentally and emotionally?" It makes IDW OP far more relatable. Instead of naturally being a perfect Christ-like figure who never wavers in his morals or convictions and is just naturally a nice person who always has the wisest and best answer, being a good person is something that IDW OP has to consciously strive to be. Even when he feels like it's useless, or the cycle of violence will never stop, or any attempts he makes to help only ends up with things becoming worse.

And I feel like this does a service not only to IDW Optimus as a character, but also as a sort of moral/philosophical perspective for the reader to ponder upon? I feel like culture at large (or at least my experience of it) tends to believe that "goodness" in a person is simply an innate feature that people are born/not born with, and that being "good" means that you must be good at all times, both in your actions as well as the way you feel emotionally about yourself and the world. Like, there's a tendency for our vision of "a good person" to be good in every aspect at all times without having to try to be a good person. So I think IDW Optimus' character stands as a good example of how someone can be good at heart but still struggle to maintain those feelings of optimism and hope and justice. It's a good idea to have such a paragon of a character (in-universe and out-of-universe) be so conflicted and to even be mistaken, misguided, or make things worse because it shows that goodness is as much about "trying to behave/act in a way that is good" and not just "existing as an innately good person."

It's way more realistic for a person to want to be good, try to be good, and sometimes/often fail than it is for them to just be a good person. I enjoy the fact that IDW Optimus is both a good person at heart, but also has to strive to be a good person and live up to other people's expectations of what they see in him. I like how he wants to be a good person and change society for the better, but he also spends a good amount of time either feeling hopeless and alone or being angry at/detached from other people because of how frustrated they make him. He's realistically portrayed as someone who wants to be good and hopeful and change things for the better, but is also mentally and emotionally broken by that burden because of how impossible it is for him to Fix Everything and be the Perfect Prime/Leader/Autobot that people see him as. It's this fascinating mixture of "yes, this is who he is as a person" but also "there are things he desires to be that he could never possibly become or live up to."

This got really far off based from feral/unhinged Optimus sdklfjaslkdlfkas. The TLDR is that if people want unhinged OP, I feel like they should give IDW OP a chance because he IS unhinged but he's unhinged in a way that's a realistic/thematic representation of how being an Absolute Good is impossible. And how being a good person isn't just about Existing And You Are A Good Person, but rather goodness is a constant state of flux in which you adjust, you make mistakes, you lose your temper and feel hopeless, but then you pick yourself up and try again.

Also IDW OP really likes climbing in dangerous wilderness and jumping out of flying vehicles which I think is very feral and sexy of him to do.

[mintandcreme]

:)

[queer-pagan-witch]

One day I will learn, that just because the bottle is low, does not mean I need to finish off the bottle.

[itspileofgoodthings]

.