#let's hope it continues

[bricreative]

Pretend they’re in some sort of barracks or armory

Part 1 of ?

Part 2 >>

[ellenchain]

kissing the trauma away

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

‘Poseidon left a party in Ethiopia because the sea vibes went rancid after Odysseus set sail’ feels like a bit I would make up, but no. That actually happened.

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[indiegame]

palestinians that have reached out to me & links to donate to them:

• @dodooomar 's gofundme & main post -- verified -- currently at kr156,119 of kr300,000

• @ghaziyounes1967 's gofundme & main post -- verified -- currently at $4,431 of $50,000

• @abood-gaza2 's gofundme & main post -- verified -- currently at $4,824 of $40,000

• @asmaayyad 's gofundme & main post -- verified -- currently at €13,466 of €45,000

• @helpamalm 's gofundme & main post -- unverified -- currently at €332 of €53,000

• @farohablogsworld 's gofundme & main post -- verified by association -- currently at €828 of €32,000

• @fidaa-family2 's gofundme & main post -- verified -- currently at $19,000 of $30,000

• @wafaaresh6 's gofundme & main post -- verified -- currently at $6,104 of $50,000

• @keensaladbanana 's gofundme & main post -- verified by association -- currently at kr3,121 of kr350,000

• @ahmed-ziad 's gofundme & main post -- verified -- currently at £10,017 of £30,000

• @yasermohammad 's gofundme & main post -- verified -- currently at €18,935 of €35,000

• @shadowyavenuetaco 's gofundme & main post -- verified by association -- currently at £3,020 of £50,000

[starflungwaddledee]

🎉wishing you happiness for the holidays, and all the best for a brand new year! 🎀

pulled some mutuals names out of a hat, and drew as many gifts as i could before 2025 hit! here's starstruck spreading a little cheer with her friends; hope you all enjoy! credits under the cut!

characters in order, by row. some have slightly tweaked outfits from their usual to match the festive vibes!

@kamalemons's pink lemonade driblee, @what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me's sir meteor, @aseuki's phemus // @deafeninggardenerpanda's remi dee, @jojo-schmo's elfilis // @das-a-kirby-blog's graffi dee, @eliastheownerof0axolotls's flower waddle dee // and of course @moonverc3x's J bringing a little festive sparkle!

[tategaminu]

I'm genuinely devastated about how unfairly TDP and the team are getting treated. Years of work in the game to get it shut down after four months in a one day notice is miserable and cruel. Shutting it down two days before S7 is miserable and cruel. Netflix is miserable and cruel. I seriously hope the crew finds better partners‚ with the main series, with the game and with the books (because fuck schoolsatic as well honestly)

[secundus-cinaedus]

op turned off reblogs but it's true

[swagveryswagamazinf]

gyus i forogt I had a tumblri think I never posted tjis here hai hello

[casualavocados]

You've never done that when I got close to you before. Why? None of your business. Tell me, or you can't leave.

KISEKI: DEAR TO ME Ep. 10

[illmoraineakoi]

Influencer Arc Bad End: Green's channel gets deleted and we all trade stories on how cool it was to be apart of it while being very sad it's gone, never to return. At least it was good while it lasted :(

Influencer Arc Meh End: Green's channel is left up but no new videos are ever posted. It's never mentioned and barely referenced ever again. It's over almost as soon as it began, and we're all are left to reminisce about how fun it used to be like a particularly fond memory from our long-gone childhoods.

Influencer Arc Best End: Green learns his lesson but keeps the channel, often posting funny little in-universe videos that we can all love and enjoy without the fear of it psychologically ruining him. Life is good :)

[elbiotipo]

Please don't interpret me as saying that Trump is somehow better for Palestine (or for anything else for that matter), you should already know how he is. But the mere fact that it took him to do a ceasefire (which is the bare minimum that humanity demands) and he managed to do it in what, less than a month, when not even president, means that the Biden administration was willingly prolonging a genocidal war, what's more, funding it and supporting, all this time, while lying about seeking peace. This is unforgivable.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

It's all fun and games until...

[Commission for @dontheckinswear]

[fabbyf1]

Gobble Me, Swallow Me (Drip Down The Side Of Me)

“Here’s to the winner,” Oscar said, winking at him and holding his glass up. 

“The fastest man on track,” Max added, grinning at him. 

“The best ass in the place,” Oscar tacked on. 

“And with a mouth that could—” 

“Okay, okay, okay!” Charles laughed loudly, cutting them off before they got themselves in trouble. OR: Why limit yourself to one boyfriend when you can have two? (The last installment of the lestappen+guest series and the long-awaited return of lestapstri. Charles wins in Monaco and in life.)

Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen/Oscar Piastri | 26k | Read on AO3

[tinrange]

I find it really interesting that a majority of romance fans have latched onto seunghyo covering seokryu in the rain with an umbrella, and 'hearing' her talk, as a signifier of their bond and blossoming romance. The show uses classic romance tropes, the wet shoulder and returning to places of childlike innocence, to set a scene and a situation easily lent to romance.

But its not a true reflection of their dynamic, hes not a moony eyed listener to her starry eyed talking, and the romance is the umbrella being discarded.

Love next door goes to great lengths to hammer in the point that theyre both lonely, and that they both exlress to it in different ways. While Seunghyo has shut himself off, become standoffish and seperated himself from those around him, Seokryu has responded by hiding herself in plain sight. She takes the abuse and the gossip, she laughs her way through everything and creates big moments to distract from the little hurts that have chipped away at her and driven her to running away.

Seungryounderstands this, so when hes listening to her under rhe umbrella hes not letting her get it out or being the calm rock she needs, hes frustrated at her posturing and tired for her.

Their connection and history allows him to be childish and mean, but it also lets him peer past what she puts up. And Seokryu has a vast interiority to her, shes aware of the structures around her and that her plight wont be taken seriously. She knows what will get her asked the meast amount of quesyions and shes willing to be misunderstood and judged, to recreate the hostile environments whether it be at work or home, to keep the pain veiled and under control. She has thought twelve steps ahead, and she's preparedly hurt herself to soften the blows.

When theres no covering all she can do is cry. She isnt just running away, shes lying and hiding in those misunderstandings so she doesnt have to come to terms with her own feelings and the unfortunate reality of where shes landed. She needs rest and time to work through it, but dhe cant do it if she wont allow herself to admit her emotions to herself. The romance is seunghyo wanting the sadness, wanting the truth, and wanting it for her instead of himself.

[essektheylyss]

I think Orym is a fascinating character in a way that is often underappreciated, because he is fundamentally a soldier, he was trained as a soldier, and that's... not a bad thing? It has no moral indication, and certainly doesn't imply that Orym is going dark. In fact, in the current circumstances, Orym acting as a soldier is very important and may actually get them through this in one piece.

I do feel that this aspect of his character is frequently approached in the fandom as an afterthought or even swept under the rug, or flat out viewed as a flaw to be overcome (especially given the overall landscape of military conflict in the real world), but being a trained soldier is not inherently indicative of specific morality or ideology. I think it's a judgment that also gets levied against paladins, because, much like any organized forces in fantasy are equated with modern militaries, fantasy worship is equated with Christianity (sometimes in the guise of 'organized religion' with all of its problematic connotations). It's incredibly black and white, and it doesn't fundamentally make sense in much of Exandria, but in this case especially.

You cannot fundamentally map the Tempest Blades onto any real life military, because the task of the Tempest, and Ashari culture as a whole, is protection against both extraplanar threats and also the malicious or misguided intentions of those on the Material Plane trying to fuck with the elemental planes. This is distinctly different even in universe from, for instance, Caleb, who was trained as an assassin in the name of nationalism, or Yasha, who was trained to be a leader in the name of tribalism.

And these two threats that the Ashari are tasked with resisting are both frequent, credible, and existential! Failing at this task is liable to have major sweeping repercussions for the rest of Exandria! It is highly probable that a soldier with Orym's training is expected to need to make incredibly difficult decisions in defense of the common good at more than one point in their life—decisions that would make every person who laughs at the premise of the trolley problem shit their pants.

And crucially, Orym wants his friends to get out of this. He has in fact already promised his entire life to ensure that they do, because he also fundamentally needs them to be able to do what they came for, without hesitation, because the singular mandate that he has devoted himself to is protecting the Material Realm from extraplanar threats, and regardless of the fact that the rest of them do not have the same training, that is also the task that the Hells have chosen.

If Nana Morri can get the Hells out in one piece, regardless of what choices they make, then their personal risk doesn't matter. I imagine that Orym isn't going to tell them that, because given the scope of the threat, there's not necessarily a guarantee that Morri can make that happen, so the rest of the Hells have to make the choice themselves to take the risk and trust that the others have their backs. And in the end, if Orym has to live with that no matter which way fate plays out, he will. He's already had plenty of practice.

They're at war, and that's how soldiers operate. Because when they're behind enemy lines, it's the only way missions get completed and they have a chance of making it back alive.