#like there are big issues with the story on a logic and character level

[fictionadventurer]

I love setting fantasy around and after WWI. It's such a good combination. WWI was a loss-of-innocence on a societal level. There had been this assumption that technology and progress could solve all our problems and make us better people, and then WWI comes and shows us horribly and violently that it does not, and then in the aftermath we have to deal with what this means for us as a society and as people.

Throwing magic into that is a perfect thematic fit, because magic and technology are basically the same thing--people trying to impose their will upon nature. It can do good things or terrible things, but the issue is not necessarily the technology or the magic itself, but the hearts of the people using it, the cost to bring it about, the drain on resources and the effect on the environment and people. In the aftermath of a major conflict, we have to take a long hard look at ourselves and the choices we've made and will continue to make. Are the benefits worth the cost? What is the true nature of man--can we ever trust ourselves again? Have we progressed to a better stage of humanity or reverted back to beasts? There is just so much to explore there. The WWI connection has been built into the genre ever since Tolkien, and it continues to be relevant to our modern world.

[utilitycaster]

I follow someone who peaced out of C3 like a month ago, and while she still throws out the occasional post about it, despite mostly running on ✨vibes✨ since pre-Predathos fight. one of her latest takes caught my attention. The wording was a little messy, but the core argument seemed like it might have a point. She’s saying the biggest issue with the story is a lack of internal logic, which makes the characters feel kind of disconnected from their own world and setting. Her main example was the Schism, like, the general idea that the Titans were bad news for mortals should be widely accepted, and they’re dead so they’re not coming back even if the gods leave. She also argues that the idea that the gods would always choose each other over mortals isn’t really backed up by history. Basically, she thinks Bells Hells ignore some of the fundamental structures of modern religion in Exandria, which in turn makes a lot of their arguments about the gods fall apart.

So I guess I’m wondering does it seem like there’s a lack of internal logic to you? C3 is my first campaign, so I’ve been piecing together older lore as I go, and I can’t tell if this is a niche take or if there’s some bigger context I’m missing.

Yes. Or rather, I have a couple of different guesses as to what happened. In short: I think that either Matt wanted to set up a big dilemma and failed to do the worldbuilding to really support it textually; he didn't have a clear vision of what this would be at all (HUGE fucking mistake, like, actually concerning me re: the potential of a 4th campaign level of mistake and I hope it's not that); or, alternately, and honestly right now my guess is that this was the case, he straight up did not think the characters would be such selfish dickbags and thought going in that this would be a clear "we have to stop Predathos" and intended the familial connections within the Vanguard and the scene in Hearthdell to be added nuance to provide some understanding of the Vanguard not as simply mindless evil monsters but people who have genuine grievances that have been exploited by predatory cult leaders, and was not prepared for a campaign where the party immediately took the Vanguard's side.

Religion in Exandria has never been super formalized or organized. Some of this is, of course, that you don't have to like, convert or even attend services if you have a relationship with a god. But as a result, it means that any exploration of religion as hegemonic falls apart. I am not saying religion needs to fit the regular daily or weekly practices many people irl have (depending on one's levels of observance), and those characters whose powers canonically involve a deity often do observe either restrictions (Caduceus's vegetarianism) or have some form of meditative personal worship, but we never see like, a system of worship outside of Vasselheim, and Vasselheim lacks the powers that the real-world pope has (let alone the medieval era pope). Tuldus was forced by his family to pray, but it's never depicted as part of How All Worshipers of That God are expected to behave. This is really the crux of a lot of problems with this campaign - people keep taking very individualized issues - which are real, but individual - and treating them as a sign of widespread oppression that simply isn't backed up by the text. In fact, the biggest case of widespread religiously-involved oppression is the Empire going after worshipers of illegal Prime Deities (as we see with the Schuesters - the parents are arrested, leaving their young children to fend for themselves) - and the biggest case of widespread proselytizing and missionary work is from the canonically theocratic (and ruled by one person for over a millennium) Kryn Dynasty, which, hilariously, might end up even more powerful given that the Luxon - the source of their religion, their philosophy and cultural practices, and their arcane prowess - has been brought up as relevant to the gods-become-mortal plan by the Raven Queen and seems to not be under any threat from Predathos, and might even get more powerful. Vasselheim's colonial efforts, while certainly not defensible, are small potatoes.

The player character's grievances against the gods all boil down to "I prayed to the gods and they didn't make my life better" while failing to consider that a combination of genuinely wild specific personal circumstances (being Ruidusborn; being the child of an elemental-worship cult with terrible instincts and later running a heist on a Vanguard collaborator; being a shadow sorcerer who caught the eye of an evil Vecna-worshipping wizard in need of a host body) are the root cause. It's like. If your parents kick you out for being gay, that's homophobia, but if your parents are part of a cult that blows itself up and you are orphaned as a result that is not systemic oppression, that is a very specific cult and shitty parents. So that fails to really ground them in the setting. Compare to campaign 2, where Caleb wants to ensure the Volstrucker program is brought to light and eliminated - as he says, no more children on the pyre - vs. here, where arguably Laudna and Ashton are opening the door to far more unregulated cult/evil necromancy shenanigans now entirely unmitigated by the gods. At least Imogen will probably end the Ruidusborn I guess, as a side effect completely unrelated to her actual goals (which are, frankly, unclear) In a campaign that talks about tethers, the characters seem untethered to anything - institution, place, even for the most part family, and only loosely to each other, and it shows in their lack of care.

The other part is that yeah, a lot of things that were given to the Mighty Nein and Vox Machina as "things people would know" aren't given to Bells Hells. Now this could have a mechanical basis, namely, no one has much of a formal education and most of them are also not terribly intelligent on their own. However, it does feel baffling that they can't recognize holy symbols, or don't know the story of the titans at the time of the Schism (which...setting aside the many issues with the concept of "history is written by the victors" which is both inconsistently true in the first place and is frequently used in an anti-intellectual manner to undermine historical study that points out such things as historical racism; just because history might be inaccurate that does not mean that wild speculation otherwise is necessarily true, especially since we do know from EXU Calamity that titans did, indeed, intend to side with the Betrayers against mortals at the start of the Calamity). It furthers this feeling, after Vox Machina being relatively educated even in a story that was not as worldbuilding-focused, and the Mighty Nein having multiple research-oriented characters and a party deeply rooted in a rich world, that Bells Hells feel off and adrift and ignorant, especially since they don't even seem to remember history they lived through such as the Apex War.

Honestly, what I think is most interesting actually is that we don't ever get anyone express a motivation based on structural oppression in-game. Ludinus never got over his parents dying in a war where the options for the Prime Deities were leave mortals to die or fight the Betrayers, knowing there will be devastating casualties, but in setting up his elaborate plot he murdered countless people, destroyed through his communing with Predathos the first rebuilt elven society in Western Wildemount, and participated in actual structural oppression within the Dwendalian empire for literal centuries; he cared not for any widespread liberation and would remain on top, as an archmage, after this imagined revolution, which makes it not much of a revolution worth having. Liliana's problems were caused by Predathos, and many of the Vanguard we see are Ruidusborn. The only other Vanguard we really get to talk to are Bor'Dor, who was oppressed on the basis of his religion and preyed upon by the cult; Tuldus, who see above; and various Paragon's Call members who are mostly just following orders and getting paid. And Bells Hells, when they have the audience of Vasselheim and the rest of the world - a golden opportunity to call out the colonialism - fail to bring up Hearthdell.

In the end, the motivations are all personal pain - in many cases, inflicted, in fact, by Predathos and not the gods - or vengeance. I honestly don't know if the narrative is trying to claim there is something deeper, or if it's simply some of the characters and a chunk of the least knowledgeable fans, but yes, the worldbuilding fails to support a morally complex narrative. It fails to debunk that which was established earlier (and indeed makes the fall of Aeor far more sympathetic than when it was introduced during Campaign 2) and fails to establish any widespread harm the gods did that wasn't the result of someone threatening to kill them. I do not think one can meaningfully debate with someone who puts a boot on your throat, presses down, and claims you're the oppressor when you fight back, nor with someone who argues along those lines, and that's all that fans and Bells Hells have ever done. And yeah we might actually make a world with a formalized hegemonic religion as a result of Bells Hells' actions; it just will be a different god, underscoring that this is either motivated by people who don't know what the fuck is going on; or by vengeance rather than justice.

[preposterousjams]

My opinion on the Latino Jason Todd headcanon

While I do understand ppl's criticism of the latino Jason todd headcanon and how its kind of racist to make the kid with parents with drug problems as the latino one, to me its more of a reclamation BECAUSE of DC's racism.

Read any 80s/90s batman issue that covers gang violence and drugs, most if not ALL of the criminals are poc; black people and latinos visibly make up the majority in the poorer neighbourhoods in Gotham. Aside from the caricaturist way they r drawn/speak, its not THAT weird cause its a reflection of irl big cities where immigrants and marginalised ppl are often forced to live in such situations, (like most of my dominican family lives in the bronx... it aint racist to say dominicans tend to flock there), BUT...the weird part is when the second a sympathetic character comes from that area, he's white and has a name thats "too fancy for the streets".

Obviously, Jason was created to look like the old robin, so I can't say that the whole "diamond in the rough" situation was purposely a tad bit racist, but its still a lil weird (especially with bruce's comment).

If Jason were a part of the overwhelming demographic in his area, the good-kid-in-a-bad-area trope has less connotations. DC is currently trying to fix this trope is by making crime alley whiter, which isn't bad but they could've just yk... humanised the non-white residents.

I also feel like the messed up way Jason was treated post-death is what makes him so relatable to latino readers. His tragic story of dying while trying to save his only living relative is turned into a lesson for newer vigilantes. Jason's particular disdain for abusers on a few occasions was twisted (by both writers and characters) into him always being dumb, reckless, cocky, angry and disobedient, always violent, never having been able to get over his upbringing. None of those things were true (he was a normal level of reckless and cocky like every other robin, not more), but its an easier narrative to digest compared to how it was in reality; a kid who worked so hard and loved even harder, died to save a woman who couldn't care less about his existence. He was an emotional AND smart kid who wanted so bad to help others get better but was remembered as too emotional (in a bad way).

THIS is the reality for many latino diasporas in day to day life; Theres no question that Latino culture is passionate and emotive, but people from other cultures assume that it is followed by instead of logical. both can coexist. emotion does not mean u have no logic. Emotions can be irrational but they aren't inherently that way, and I wouldn't say that the moments where Jason lashed out as a teenager were irrational (in og runs, not rewrites post red hood), they were mostly done to protect someone (going crazy on abusers, disobeying batman to save sheila, that time he got into a fight at school to defend his friend).

A lot of euro-centric culture is OBSESSED with the idea that rationality is separate from feelings and emotions, but not crying at a funeral doesn't mean you're better than those who do. Emotions are the basis of human ethics and morals, they define the way we interact as a collective and ignoring them does not mean they are not there. Theres no winner to a contest of who can feel the less. And the way Jason's emotions are treated (pre-rh, hes definitely unhinged afterwards lol) is so in line with how white culture tends to punish those who aren't ashamed to feel.

I TOTES UNDERSTAND that some ppl who headcanon Jason as latino are doing it for the complete opposite of reasons, like "oh here some angry emotional guy with druggie parents, haha must be latino". Its weird. I dont like it. And its only brought up so he can swear in spanish in some rlly bad text post where his emotions are getting out. But to me there's so much potential for metanarrative and commentary on how latinos are treated in media that can be exemplified through the way his character is treated. Being latino would add SO MUCH DEPTH to his character and his dynamic with the others.

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

Been thinking about Puss in Boots: The Last Wish and what makes Death the Wolf such an effective villain, and like… character design and voice acting is certainly doing a lot there, don't get me wrong, but I think there's something else at play.

Death is the most terrifying character in Puss in Boots, because he's the only one playing the genre straight.

The premise of the Shrek films has always been that they're normal, modern people living in wacky fairytale land.

The evil king uses his magic mirror as a dating app. The fairy godmother uses business cards to contact her clients. Her workers consider unionising over their lack of dental plan.

Puss in Boots 1 kinda broke the mould in that— while there are plenty of modern elements to how the characters act and how their world works— it's more specifically intended to be characters from the world Zorro living in wacky fairytale land. But the point still stands.

The aim of the Shrek films and spin-offs is to subvert common fairytale tropes for comedic effect. What if the princess fell for the ogre? What if Prince Charming was an entitled dick? What if Goldilocks teamed up with the three bears and started a crime family?

But Death? Death, for the most part, isn't playing that game.

No character questions why he doesn't just kill Puss outright. There are no gags about him being inconvenienced by Jack Horner losing so many men. Nobody makes any self-aware fourth wall breaking jokes about why he bothers with the whole whistling thing.

We all know why he does the whistling thing. It's the same reason why Little Red Riding Hood has to go through the whole "what big eyes/ears/teeth you have, Grandma" rigamarole. The same reason why the wolf takes care to knock before blowing the little pigs' houses down.

The Wolf is scary because he's the only actual fairytale creature in this entire setting. He's not bound by rules of logic or common sense, or his own will, he's bound by the narrative.

And that's also why he backs down at the end.

The first time he and Puss fight, in the bar, Puss is arrogant. The second time, in the Cave, Puss is scared out of his wits. It's the third time, on the wishing star, that Puss learns his lesson. Of course the Wolf backs down after that! The rules say he has to.

But, on another level, there is also the issue of Puss realising that he wants more from his life than just to be a legend.

They say "legends never die", but the most famous part of any given legend tends to be the story of how the hero finally bites the dust.

And "he was such a great fighter that Death himself had to kill him off, personally!" is just the sort of ending that would fit the legend Puss has constructed around himself. In a sense, the Wolf is giving Puss exactly what he proclaims to want— the chance to go down in history.

Puss realising he doesn't want that anymore is the catalyst for sending the Wolf away. Through his own egotistical and reckless attitude, he turned himself into a story and thus summoned a narrative device. Only by choosing to value his life over the legend is he able to escape that trap.

The Wolf's defeat is both the natural ending of the story that he and Puss have been playing out since the film began, and a rejection of the natural ending to the story Puss has been telling about himself since he first became the hero of San Ricardo.

[yingdu-lover]

people comparing eiden and aoba pls stop like-

ik aoba this aoba that yaoi jesus agree ok calm down

but nu carnival is that classic "came for the corn, stayed for the lore" thing. I am not kidding, eiden is one of my top favourite fictional characters ever. corn maybe the thing that lured you into the game but bro...eiden is different. if most anime/donghua viewers didn't have that "purity" bias, nu carnival lore would actually be discussed like...the way we very enthusiastically and intellectually™ discuss link click. corn is not diluting your plot if your plot is strong enough. my link click fever and nu carnival fever started simultaneously and there are reasons why I adore eiden as much as I adore cheng xiaoshi. (lmao their character design sometimes feel so similar)

Eiden's story is a nuanced social commentary, not on your face shit. He is an overworked young man who often works overtime to afford good food. He is struggling to get a satisfying permanent job, his financial hardships are so relatable. IK we can't have (lmao it's 2024) the portrayal of the life narrative of a realistic queer character who scrolls through grindr, hooks up with hot partners and struggles to have a work-private life balance in mainstream anime media so yaoi otome game it is!

(like if it were an overworked heterosexual single woman with identical issues, the feminist lens would have been enough to keep it as a convincing main plot, but a gay young man pursuing his desires no way! I won't even talk about queer women here)

idk what I initially wanted to say but overall mainstream media is very heteronormative and puts way too much premium in monogamy. I think the perks of being an aro-ace-spec is that you can feel how the allosexual essentialist culture is SO bothered by sex and it renders them insane, they almost have an allergic reaction.

y'all who moralise and do 'purifying' rituals for your queer ships - " oh no they are so pure, their they can't have sex-" fuck you. honestly. queer representation is not your weird personal aesthetic and it's problematic!

1. Fetishizing queer characters

2. Doing 'purity rituals' on queer characters

both are equally damaging and tbh queerphobic. They need to have sex to validate they are queer and their love is spiritually higher™ because they have no carnal desire - bro 😭 one thing I can say and that is you are pathetic.

Eiden's vibrant sex life is IMPORTANT to know him as a queer character. It's simply a part of him and the way he bonds with his clan members is important too. But that's simply not the entirety of nu carnival. Eiden as a character just stands out...you distinguish him as that nice fella you would strike a nice conversation and 10 minutes later he is holding you in his arms when you are bawling your eyes out and he is giving you life advice as your personal therapist because...that orphan self made man has seen the cruelties and absurdities of the world and STILL believes in empathy, still wants to fulfill someone's last wish, small or big not because he is naive but he is mature and knows a simple truth : life already throws a lot of shits upon us, let us not create more trauma for us and others.

cheng xiaoshi and eiden would be bestfriends really

same empathy level. both orphans. both struggling young men. The former is naive, the latter is mature but both know how hurting others just logically doesn't make sense. both would do those poignant little things or endanger their own lives to make people believe why against all odds, they matter, their emotions matter, the bondings they had mattered, their last wish before death mattered. this is such a simple trait but in my opinion, one of the most powerful and humane traits a protagonist can ever have.

[heliomanteia]

ngl its nice to finally see some actual analysis/understanding for Calypso compared to the rest of the fandom's immediate hatred and demonizing. All the other gods in Epic do just as terrible things to Odysseus but they get so much adoration from the fandom regardless of that. I'm just so confused on why the sudden hatred for this one goddess in particular came from. I could understand if it was just people reacting emotionally to Calypso's actions, but this feels different from that. What is it about this goddess that makes everyone react borderline violently?

"We need more complex female characters" — "you couldn't even handle Calypso" etc.

Calypso (overall but specifically her Epic self as the musical expands on her feelings) is very, very interesting to me.

I think part of the reason behind the fandom's reaction is the expected knee-jerk response to a character implied to sexually force another person. It's very hard for people to look past that veil and try to analyze the character beyond that surface level. I know that Epic is rather vague with what Calypso did/did not do but I choose to believe at least some physical intimacy is implied by both Love in Paradise and Not Sorry for Loving You. Even if not, it's still imprisonment — something very common in mythology, as you point out, though it's extremely rare that it's coming from a woman towards a man.

I don't know if it's deeper than that or not because Epic portrayed her pretty accurately to the source. People seem to very eagerly accept Circe and Circe's perspective despite it also coming from the place of power imbalance and intimidation, probably because the musical offered her narrative from a more sympathetic side. Maybe it's because most people sympathize with Odysseus? I personally think that he gets exactly what he worked for. I don't hate him but he's also not my poor baby boy either, #TrojanSquad

Also, I would be more willing to side with the "black and white" thinkers if this was a mortal character. Like, I understand people that have very strong feelings about Antinous (sort of, since Epic removed his young(er) age) because he's mortal and he's overstepping boundaries known to him and understood by him. But Calypso is a Goddess/Nymph and there's a lot of theory regarding the reception of the narrative of divine-to-mortal assault/enforcing of anything.

Calypso was not analyzed from her POV before Epic. In the Odyssey, she's a narrative tool: the perfect maiden (literally perfectly concealed! in ancient logic, any man would want her) who has not known anyone prior to Odysseus offering him dwelling, family, and immortality. Odysseus rejecting her is him rejecting every gift a man can have; much like with the Sirens, though then he was held back. The Odyssey is a big, long journey through various obstacles and rejection/overcoming of said obstacles and Calypso has no voice in that story, in a way. We knew nothing about her feelings aside from her showing frustration that Gods seem to have such an issue with Goddesses taking in lovers (much like you do, isn't it ironic).

Epic explores her as unapologetic and her feelings as genuine while also showing her actions as wrong (though she does not agree). I love it. Love fucking sucks sometimes, you know? People do cruel, horrible things justified by love (even Odysseus himself, Mr. "I will do anything to be with my wife, even war crimes"). There's so much to explore about her character because she literally has close to no known lore.

Thank you for sending it in, I'm rotating her in my head.

[jolyne-best-jojo]

What Stands I think the Logical Proposals wavewave family would have:

Soundwave: Hermit Purple. This one's pretty easy, it's got everything a wave of sound could want: break a camera and get photos of a picture anywhere in the world, have a screen to project onto and read minds, just use the vines on a TV screen and get a message like "x is a traitor". Or Moody Blues since being able to see and hear what happened to a singular person would make for great intell depending on who it is.

Shockwave: Gold Experience. Shockwave would love having it, funding becomes a far smaller issue if he can grow the body parts himself. Not to mention the research he'd do testing the limits, how big can the being he grows be relative to the original objects mass? Can he grow an extinct species? And he'd love finding these things out.

Ravage: Harvest. Being the only responsible child is hard, much easier when you have 500 tiny buggers to keep watch on everyone.

Buzzsaw: Kraft Work. Given his weapon building I feel like he'd find some use for being able to store however much kinetic energy in an object he desires then release it all at once.

Laserbeak: Mr. President. With the caveat that he just had the user on him at all times. Laserbeak wants a nap, just pull out Mr. President, hide it, and take a nap in the key room, he can even fill it with all his favourite blankets.

Rumble & Frenzy: Star Platinum & The World. This one's the most obvious, SP and TW stop time for 5 seconds, that's 5 seconds of free prank set up.

Enemy: Survivor. Probably a bit too surface level for his character but it makes sense. He wants enemies, Survivor makes everyone around him so mad they start beating each other to death.

Flip Sides: Sticky Fingers. It's got a pocket dimension to explore long range travel purposes with (idk if it can do that but presumably if Sticky Fingers opened a zipper in one place then went hundreds of miles away and opened another they should connect) and I think Flips would find that interesting.

Beastbox: Man in the Mirror. So long as he has a mirror shard with him he can hide away in the mirror world whenever he's feeling overwhelmed and come back when he feels better.

Slugfest: Pearl Jam. He may not be a cook, but given the positive effects Pearl Jam has on the consumers he'd absolutely learn how to cook to give healing meals to refugees.

Squawktalk: Bohemian Rhapsody. I don't know if It works if it's only audio but it turns fiction to life and what better way to tell your stories then making them real? (Just ignore the part where people are forced to play a part in the stories, usually the one who dies)

Garboil: Earth, Wind and Fire. Technically not a stand (but maybe it is who knows) the shapeshifting would be really handy for painting, don't wanna use a picture or just memory to base a drawing on? Just shapeshift into what you wanna draw.

Overkill: Scary Monsters. It can turn people into dinosaurs. He'd finally have Dino friends that the Autobots don't steal away before begging to hand them back. (Targets of it retain their sentience right? I can't remember)

Howlback: Killer Queen. This isn't because of the fact it's a cat, nor is it about it being able to turn objects into bombs or its tertiary bomb Bites the Dust being able to rewind time an hour. No, this is about Sheer Heart Attack being indestructible and as such the perfect thing to enjoy biting to no end, and honestly what more does Howlback even want in life?

Ratbat: Kiss. Sure, the duplicated objects crash back together after the sticker comes off, but so long as that happens long after he sells them it's not his problem.

Wingthing: I'mma be real, I got nothing, he got killed in the great cassette culling of chapter 36 and he was introduced in that chapter. Weather Report? Because he wanted to know how rain works?

[damnaation]

Ambrosia

There are things older than even the gods, and sometimes those things take issue with the treatment of mortals.

This is the non-vore version of this story. I'm still working on the vore version, but I wanted to get at least this out before the end of the year :)

WARNING: There is a scenario very reminiscent of domestic abuse present in this story, though it is not intentional on the parts of any principal character in the situation. Still, it may be distressing for some readers, so take care. Includes a few brief instances of strangulation and choking.

Gods often did not make sense to mortals. She knew this—a constant, a fact she'd known as long as her short memory lasted. They did not make sense to mortals. 

And they did not love mortals. Feel affection, perhaps, think them cute like a charming pet, but loving would require them to see mortals as an equal. And everyone knows they were not. 

The godly realm itself was confusing—could be dangerous for an unaccompanied mortal. Things followed dream logic here, changing and shifting to match its inhabitants’ needs. Her own room—with a bed alone bigger than the room she'd lived in before, the chamber itself easily the size of an inn’s common room, a closet full of more clothes than she could have ever imagined, and a washroom fit for a palace—stayed the same at least, and she could always find her way back to it when she wanted. Helpful when some days the door opened to a parlor, some days a grand hall, some days a courtyard, and on increasingly common occasions her Lord’s own chambers. 

…They still weren't certain how to refer to him. He wasn't a god they had followed, his domain the one of performance and lies, and they had always tried to be honest. But they were his—a gift, an offering, traded to obtain his favor. Not that their life was all too pleasant beforehand—a permanent outsider with no family or memories, stuck doing whatever small tasks they could around the inn they had ended up in to pay room and board. At least he didn't require anything of them but their presence. 

Today upon leaving her chambers she found herself standing on a table and near the size of a child's doll compared to her surroundings. The change in perspective made her dizzy for a moment, wobbling in place before she managed to get her balance. 

… His chambers again. The bed looked like a massive sprawling landscape of dunes, big enough to lose themself in, and the floor was so far below as to be unreachable. But luckily they weren't stranded for long, as they could hear footsteps approaching before the door opened to reveal Lord Juniper. His gaze scanned the room, locking onto her with a slight smile as he approached.

“Good morning, my little flower.” He purred, brushing their cheek with the back of a curled finger before carefully scooping them up in his arms. They were only about as tall as his forearm was long—not the largest he'd been in comparison to them, but still more than capable of being easily lifted and carried around. 

She relaxed and let him take her wherever he was planning—he'd never hurt her, and usually respected if she asked to be put down to walk on her own. Even if she felt a bit like a fancy dog when he carried her around.

“Are you hungry, my dear?”

Always with the nicknames, though they supposed it was only fair—using their name would imply they were equals on some level. And at least they were nicer than some of the names they'd been called before, clearly terms of endearment in some form or another. 

“Yes.” He would know if she lied, and she was actually hungry. With a little hum he brushed hair away from her face, turning to leave his chambers with her tucked securely in his elbow. 

This time he stepped directly into the main hall, a large table running down the center with a single place set—a simple bowl and plate that seemed out of place compared to its grandiose surroundings. A soft white bread roll sat on the plate, and the bowl was full of porridge with raisins. Familiar enough, but still far nicer than what she had been used to before.

They still weren't quite sure where the food came from—they'd never seen Juniper eat, and had yet to find anything resembling a kitchen anywhere. Though they supposed gods wouldn't have to eat. 

Her brain went a bit fuzzy when he sat her down—the chair was the right size, as well as the table and dishes, but he hadn't changed anything as far as she could tell. Now, though, he appeared to be at the same scale, or similar enough. 

“Go ahead and eat, darling. I have a few brief things to attend to that would likely bore you to tears.” A hand rested on their shoulder and squeezed gently, and then he was gone. They tried not to be upset—it probably would have been boring, and certainly gone over their head, but…

She'd been here for what felt like ages with hardly anything to do but lie around in indolence. She was bored, with little way of resolving it other than trying to explore the palatial estate, but nothing stayed where it was.

For now, at least, she had breakfast to eat. And maybe when she was done she would see about finding her way to the courtyard.

~~~

Outdoors wasn't much different. No wind, no rain, just a perfectly pleasant warm sunny day. Always the same, with artificial regularity. But there were a few trees and a pond in the courtyard, with a pale stone path to wander and a few benches to sit on. Marginally better than lying around inside waiting for him to return—but only barely. 

They wanted to stand outside in a thunderstorm again, feel the wind and the rain lashing their skin, the deep rumbles of thunder resonating in their chest like a drum. Even the bitter bite of winter frost, as dangerous and unpleasant as it was, would be something different.

The leaves rustled in a mint-scented breeze, startling her out of her thoughts—the first bit of wind she'd felt all day. Sitting up where she'd been lying on one of the benches—trying to decide whether the sky visible in the gaps between the leaves was real or just another, much higher ceiling—, she watched as Juniper coalesced out of nothing, one moment an empty space and the next inhabited by his familiar figure.

… He almost seemed to stumble for a moment, and didn't quite look the same as he did normally. Dark feathers sprouted from his shoulders, glistening in the light with an odd green shimmer, and his hands had become more like scaled talons ending in sharp-looking claws. 

A shiver ran down their spine. They couldn't explain it, but they suddenly felt like they were stuck in a room with a wild animal—a feeling they had never had around him, even when they had been left bound and gagged in his shrine. Something was wrong.

But before she could even try to slip away, his gaze settled on her, a deep pit of dread opening in her stomach. His eyes were slitted like a snake’s, and the grin that spread across his face had none of the warmth in it that she was used to. 

“There you are, pet.” He leered, a forked tongue briefly flicking the air as he prowled towards her with a serpentine grace.

“Wh- what? What are you-” Their words were abruptly cut off by a hand grabbing their throat, tight enough to cut off any air despite their desperate, instinctive clawing at the scaled talon. 

“I don't believe I gave you permission to speak, mortal.” The words came out in a low, furious hiss, the hand around their neck growing larger until his fingers could wrap entirely around it with ease. Their bare feet kicked helplessly as they were lifted off the ground with no more effort than picking up a discarded toy, his cold slit-pupiled gaze flicking from their face to their hands weakly grabbing at his wrist with a sneer of disgust. 

Just as everything started to go black the suffocating grip around her throat vanished with a sickening moment of weightlessness before she fell, hitting the ground with a muffled yelp as pain burst through her leg. A desperate gasp for air led into a coughing fit, curling in on herself in fear as she tried to relieve the burning in her lungs-

“I trust you will remember your place in the future.” They were pinned on their back with a massive hand, putting enough pressure on their battered frame to make them bite back a cry of pain as a sharp claw pressed against their cheek. “Else I may have to cut out your tongue.”

I'm sorry- whatever I did to upset you, I didn't mean it.

She wanted to crawl into her room and hide—better yet, go back to her tiny room at the inn, but there was no way to get back on her own. Not to mention trying to flee might make him even more angry. But she needed to get away-

The ground gave out beneath her, and she was falling once again, though this time she had a much softer landing—staring up at the ceiling of her chamber, watching a single large black feather drift down alongside her. No sign of how she had gotten there, but the developing aches and a burning line of pain on her cheek were enough to know it hadn't been a nightmare. 

They needed to hide. Whatever had pulled them out of his reach had given them time, but if they thought he was angry before this would no doubt leave him furious at their escape. 

He could kill them for it, if not worse. It was never wise to anger a god, even unintentionally. 

With a choked off sob, she began to move, hardly thinking about what she was doing as she pulled the covers from her bed and crawled beneath it, wrapping herself in blankets and curling up in the dark. Everything ached, though her leg and neck bore the worst of it. Squeezing her tear-filled eyes shut with a sniffle, she grimaced at a sudden burning sensation in her cheek, and slowly raised a hand to touch it. 

Their face was wet, and in the dim light that reached into their hiding place they could see red on their fingertips as they pulled them away. He'd scratched them, deep enough to bleed. Now that they were aware of it they could feel a stinging line of pain, but they didn't have any way to properly treat it.

… The skirt of her nightdress had a few rips in it now, and it was simple enough to tear a strip from the bottom hem to wad up and press against the cut, keeping pressure on it in hopes it was minor enough to heal on its own. 

Curled up in the dark, battered and bruised but most of all terrified, she finally let herself cry. He had been kind to her until now, so careful to not harm her even at his largest size. She wasn't even sure what she'd done wrong, it had been a normal day up until he left, but he was clearly furious at her. 

I don't believe I gave you permission to speak. 

I trust you will remember your place in the future.

With a pathetic, raspy whine—their throat burned, and it didn't take much to imagine a bruise in the shape of his hand wrapped around it—they pulled their blankets close, trying to make themself as comfortable as possible even as their ankle throbbed with any movement. If they stayed quiet and obedient, he wouldn't hurt them again, right? That was their only option. He would find them eventually, the building itself responded to his wishes. But they only hoped for a little longer before that point, enough time to compose themself—if speaking out of turn got them this amount of punishment, crying would certainly be worse. 

She wasn't sure how long she lay there, but eventually the tears dried up, leaving an empty hollow feeling interrupted only by the pain of her injuries and a heavy exhaustion. He hadn't come for her, and she couldn't hear anything beyond her chambers. Shuffling to peek out from under the bed, she let out a soft gasp at what she saw—the door to the rest of the palace was gone. The one that always opened to her washroom was still in place, but it was the only interruption in the smooth stone walls.

They'd been locked in their room like a dog in a cage. For some reason that was the final straw, and with a sniffle they pulled a blanket over their head and allowed themself to drift into unconsciousness. If they were asleep at least they wouldn't hurt, and it was unlikely he would drag them out of their hiding spot if he'd really locked them in their room. 

When she awoke it was with a pounding in her temples and a horrible thirst. For a moment she was confused as to why she was lying on the floor, but the jolt of pain that ran through her when she moved quickly reminded her what had happened. Dragging herself out from under her bed, she had to lean against the wall to get to the washroom door, as her ankle hurt whenever she put weight on it—hopefully it wasn't broken, but it was certainly swollen and warm to the touch. 

There was still a pitcher of clean water in their washroom—a habit they kept, even with the magical wash basin and bath that filled from strange keg-taps in the wall. Their reflection hardly looked recognizable���puffy, red-rimmed eyes from crying, the dark purple of bruising around their neck, patchy bits of red like an uneven sunburn on their face and chest, and the cut on their cheek that had started to scab over while they slept. Their hair fell messily around their face, and their gaze seemed sunken and hollow. 

Dropping her head and turning away from the polished mirror, she carefully poured some water from the pitcher into her cupped palm, barely managing to swallow more than a sip without pain. But she was unbearably thirsty, and forced herself to push through the stinging ache until she had her fill.

… A warm bath sounded nice, and would likely ease some of their aches, but the thought of being caught even more helpless than they already were sent a chill down their spine. No, even if he was leaving them to their own devices for now they weren't going to risk it. 

Shuffling back to their bed, they froze at the sight of the black feather still lying on top of it. 

She'd never seen him like that, feathered and scaled with sharp talons. He wasn't human, of course, but he'd always appeared as such, aside from the changes in size. It was just another reminder of how unfathomable he truly was, and how powerless she was against him. 

Another rolling wave of exhaustion overcame them, and once more they shuffled underneath their bed—the longer it went, the more likely he would come looking, and not being immediately visible would give them a bit of warning, at least. 

Of course, who's to say he didn't forget about me? Or that he didn't lock me in here on purpose as punishment—I'll need to eat eventually, and I can't get out if there's no door.

Those thoughts weren't very reassuring, but there wasn't much they could do to change the situation. At least they had water. They could figure out food if it came to that. 

With a heavy, wet sigh she pulled her covers around herself once again and let exhaustion take her. Sleeping on the floor had made her stiff, but it was a small price to pay for some meager amount of safety. 

The next time she awoke was to a growling stomach. This time, at least, she remembered where she was and why—though whether that was a good thing or not was debatable. Her ankle felt stiff, even more so than the rest of her, and her throat still ached. She should probably get up, start trying to figure out how to get food, but couldn't muster up the energy to move. 

Why now? Why wait so long to punish me for overstepping? Why not make it clear from the beginning?

The thoughts wouldn't leave them alone, whirling in their head like a maelstrom to the point they almost missed the sound of a door opening. 

“Little one?”

She froze, a hand clamping over her mouth and hardly daring to breathe lest he hear it, terrified tears starting to well in her eyes. He'd already come looking for her, and while he didn't sound mad she couldn't trust that—the god of lies and performance was no doubt a skilled actor.

“Are you still sleeping? It's quite late-” His words cut off suddenly, and they could both hear and see him step into their room, walking towards their bed. 

The feather. 

“Where did you come from?” He murmured softly, the slightest brush of skin against fabric hinting that he'd picked the feather off their bed. They could see him standing on the other side, only from mid-calf down, but clearly present nonetheless. 

Please just go. Whatever game you're playing, I don't want to be part of it anymore. I want to go home.

Silent tears filled her eyes as she lay there trembling, but he didn't leave. 

“Are you hiding? I only wanted to check on you, I've been worried.”

That didn't make any sense. He'd half strangled them, locked them in their room, and now he was worried about them? Why couldn't he just leave them alone?

All of a sudden their traitorous stomach growled plaintively. All it cared about was that she hadn't eaten since before everything had happened, however long ago that had been. Their eyes widened in terror, and for a brief moment they hoped he hadn't heard, but their hopes were dashed as they saw him pause, stepping back from the bed slightly before shifting as if to kneel down and look.

“Little flower? What are you-”

With a frightened, raspy whine she shoved herself back and away, backing up blindly until she hit the wall and pulling her blankets tighter around herself as if they could shield her from the wrath of a god. She could hear what sounded like a catch in his breath, but surely it was just her own frantic, terrified breathing echoing in her ears. 

Why is he doing this? What's the point of toying with me like this? 

They could hear his footsteps rounding the bed and recoiled, curling in on themself as much as they could with their bruises and stiff muscles.

“Darling, what's-” 

A sudden, crushing silence fell. They could feel his gaze on them, even as they kept their eyes fixed on the floor, head bowed—as close to prostrating themself before him as they could manage at the moment, all but frozen in their fear.

“What happened to you?” His voice was quiet and tense with barely-restrained fury, and she dared not speak for fear of being punished again.

If she even could, as bruised as her throat was. It wouldn't be surprising if she'd lost her voice from the damage, and she had little desire to try. 

A quiet sniffle escaped them as they tried to keep the tears in their eyes from falling, but the sound of him stepping towards them jolted them out of their paralysis. They jerked their head up—it hurt, but being caught unaware was worse—, wide, terrified eyes focusing on his outstretched hand as they pressed themself as far back against the wall as was possible. He gasped, pulling their attention to his face for a brief moment—his gaze moving from their face to their neck, eyes widening slightly—before they remembered what he'd said and dropped their head. 

He'd had feathers again. Just like before.

“I'm sorry- please don't-” She barely managed a hoarse, cracked whisper of a plea before her voice broke, leaving her coughing and whimpering from pain.

A breeze ruffled her hair, and when she hesitantly lifted her gaze from the floor again he was gone, a black feather drifting to the floor again where he once stood.

Seeing it again was the final crack in their composure. With a pathetic sniffle they started to sob, face in their hands as tears streamed down their cheeks. He hadn't hurt them again, at least, but they didn't understand why he was acting like he didn't know what had happened. It was burned into their brain—the terrifying, crushing strength of his hand around their throat, the sickening feeling of weightlessness as they fell, the sharp jolt of impact through their ankle, the pressure pinning them to the ground as he threatened to cut out their tongue the next time they spoke out of turn-

Wrapping her arms around herself, she slumped into a pathetic, sniveling wreck, desperate, heaving breaths wracking her shoulders and making her throat burn as she gasped for air through her tears. 

I want to go home.

By the time they'd cried out all the water they'd managed to drink earlier they felt as if someone had taken a ladle and scooped everything from inside them in the same way one would scrape out a pot. Still the same shape, but completely empty inside aside from a bone-deep exhaustion—and of course the ever present ache of their injuries. They'd managed to crack the scab on their cheek from their sobbing, a small amount of blood beading on their skin that they wiped away with their tears.

… She should get something to drink, but the thought of shuffling to her washroom and back on her ankle—by this point she was fairly certain it was sprained, if not broken—seemed an insurmountable obstacle. Even trying to crawl back into her hiding place under her bed felt like a heavy task, and it wasn't like it would be any more comfortable, so she simply pulled her blankets around her and lay down where she sat, back pressed against the wall with the now returned door in view.

~~~

The chain around their throat was heavy as they knelt on the cold stone floor, trying not to shiver in their thin shift. Their legs were going numb, but they dared not move without permission—they were on a short enough lead already, a fact that distressed them as Juniper reached down to hook a finger around the chain and tug slightly. The loop around their neck tightened, pulling them off balance and causing them to pitch forwards, arms outstretched to keep themself from face planting. 

“I don't believe I told you to move, pet.” His voice was falsely light-hearted, not even trying to hide the vitriol beneath as he twisted the chain around his hand before lifting her off the ground by it. She struggled, hands trying to slip between the links and her skin to get enough room to breathe, but every second that passed left her feeling weaker. Her vision went dark around the edges, lungs burning but unable to relieve it as her desperate writhing slowly died out from lack of air. 

Jolting upright, they sucked in a greedy gasp, hands flying to their neck—no chain, but it still hurt, a dull ache as their breathing slowly started to return to normal. Allowing one hand to drop from their neck, they balled their fist in the sheets beneath them-

Wait. 

She hadn't fallen asleep in her bed.

“I'm sorry.” 

The unexpected voice made her flinch, attention snapping towards the source only for her to freeze in place like a mouse hoping the cat doesn't see it. 

Juniper sat against the wall, as if he'd been keeping watch over her while she'd slept. There was a strange tension in his frame, looking as if he wanted to approach but was restraining himself. Why, she didn't know, but at least this time he appeared entirely human, no feathers or scales and on the same level as her. 

“What?” They whispered, voice still raspy but less painful than trying to speak aloud.

“I promised to look after you and care for you, and you were grievously harmed. In my domain, no less.” As if it should be obvious. As if he wasn't the one who'd done it. 

Directing their stare at the bedcovers, they balled their fists in the blankets. It was unwise to show anger towards him, he could decide to finish what he'd started at the drop of a pin. 

“What happened, little one?”

Her shoulders trembled, but she remained silent, wrapping her arms around herself and keeping her gaze fixed on her blankets. Whatever he was trying to goad her into, she wasn't going to fall for it.

A light touch brushed their hand and they flinched, pulling away on instinct with a frightened gasp. He'd moved without them noticing, now kneeling alongside their bed with a hand hovering in midair for a moment before dropping to his lap. 

“Please, Red.” Her name—one of them, at least—being spoken in that soft, pleading tone made her sniffle, even though she had cried all of the tears she had to spare. 

“Don't know.” She whispered, shifting uncomfortably. Her voice was still rough, and it hurt to speak, but…

He used to make them feel safe. Had promised they were his, that he would care for them. They just wanted to feel safe around him again. They didn't know why he was doing this, but they were loathe to disobey him now.

“Just do your best.”

Worrying her blanket between her hands, she bit her lip for a moment as she tried to put her thoughts in order.

“Yesterday-” was it yesterday? “-went to do something. Came back mad. 

“... said- shouldn't speak without permission.” Her voice broke, and she lifted a hand to touch her aching throat.

Why did he want her to tell him what had happened? Didn't he remember almost killing her? 

Without turning their head they flicked their gaze towards him—he was looking at his own hand, a quiet horror in his voice. “I did this?” 

That made them freeze—was that a trick question? They had been the one to disobey, to overstep, if they blamed him for their shortcomings he would be furious.

“My fault-” They blurted in a panic before breaking into a horrible coughing fit. It felt like their throat was full of nettles, scraping the delicate flesh raw every time they breathed, let alone spoke, and the coughing just made it worse.

“No.” He sounded angry even at the thought, putting a hand on her knee—she stiffened, but didn't pull away as he continued. “Nothing you could do would make you deserve this. I don't… I don't remember anything from yesterday, but it's clear enough I failed in my duty to keep you safe. And for that I am sorry.”

What? 

“God of lies.” She whispered without thinking—but he looked more distressed than angry.

“Not to you. Never to you.” Heaving a sigh, he pulled his hand back—leaving her almost missing the small point of contact, a bit of stability in her confusion. “I wouldn't expect you to forgive me for this- wouldn't want you to. But I will do everything in my power to ensure it doesn't happen again.”

… It would be frightening, they realized, to find out that not only had you lost an entire day, you'd harmed your pet in the course of it. Or however he thought of them. 

“I will go see if any of the others might know what could have caused this. You should eat, little one.” A bowl was gently pressed into their hands, full of warm broth, though they hadn't seen it before now. Regardless, their stomach growled at the sight of it—they were starving. 

“I'll let you rest now, but if you need anything all you have to do is ask.” There was a sad look on his face as he stood, a hand briefly twitching at his side as if he wanted to touch her, but his gaze drifted to the bruise circling her neck again before he disappeared in a cool breeze.

The door was still there—if they wanted to they could leave, but crawling through the ever-changing rooms beyond with an ankle that wouldn't bear their weight sounded nightmarish. So with a little sigh they started to eat, careful and slow at first before hunger overtook them.

The broth was warm and seemed to soothe the ache in her throat some, making it a bit easier to swallow. Perhaps it was hunger from going more than a day without eating, but it might have been the best thing she'd ever tasted, and by the time she finished she was pleasantly full and once again fighting exhaustion. Setting the bowl on the floor next to her bed, she pulled the blankets up and laid down again to rest. 

He hadn't wanted to hurt them. They were still afraid, of course—whatever had made him do so could happen again, and there was still nothing they could do about it, but at least they had some small amount of relief. Letting out a yawn, they closed their eyes, hoping this time they would be able to sleep without interruption.

No dreams disturbed her slumber, just the deep, dark tunnel of exhausted sleep. 

Awareness came slowly, by degrees. She was warm and comfortable, enough she could have easily slipped back into unconsciousness had the waking world not continued to tug at her. A hand gently running through her hair was the next thing she registered, light enough it hadn't woken her but noticeable now as she started to stir.

Blearily cracking an eye open, their gaze slowly focused on Juniper sitting in a chair next to their bed reading a book while brushing his other hand through their hair. Glancing towards them, he paused when he saw they were awake before pulling his hand back. 

“Good morning, darling. How are you feeling?” He murmured, book vanishing as he closed it with a soft clap.

That was a good question. She wasn't as stiff as she'd been before she'd gone to sleep, and her injuries weren't bothering her as much, but she could still feel them. 

Poking her hand out from under the covers, she wiggled it in a so-so fashion.

“Do you need anything, or would you rather I leave you alone?” Well, if he was asking…

Trying—and failing—to suppress a yawn, they sat up and pointed at the door to the washroom, rubbing at their eyes with their other hand. Even though their throat was feeling a bit better, they didn't want to try speaking if they didn't have to.

He chuckled softly as he stood—the chair he'd been using disappearing as he did so. “As you wish.”

She let out a soft, startled noise as he picked her up bridal style—pausing at the sound, but she wasn't scared, or at least not overly scared. Just nervous. After a moment without any protest he started to walk, carrying her into the washroom before setting her down where she could lean on the counter for support. 

“I'll be right outside if you need anything, little flower.” And with that he pulled the door closed, leaving them alone in the room. 

They shuffled their way through their morning ablutions, before pausing to look at the bath. A warm soak would be nice, but would require them to ask for clean clothes—not to mention getting in the tub might be difficult with their ankle. And it would mean leaving Juniper to wait outside until they were done. 

… Maybe just a quick bath. Between all the crying and sleeping on the floor she felt a bit gross, and would rather put as much of it behind her as she could. And this nightdress would probably have to be disposed of, ripped up and dirty as it was. She didn't have the supplies to fix it, and didn't much want to, either.

Looking at themself in the mirror after they disrobed was… uncomfortable. The bruising around their neck was an ugly dark purple, and there were several more bruises scattered across their body that had been hidden from view. A particularly nasty one on their side caught their eye, as they could see the hard line of where one of the stones in the courtyard had pressed into them. 

Blinking away sudden tears, she hopped over to the tub, sitting on the edge and opening the magic tap to allow it to fill with water. A handful of pleasant-smelling herbs and flowers dropped into the water provided a distraction, and once the tub was full enough she closed the tap and slipped into the warm water, sinking down in the oversized tub until the water was halfway up her neck. 

Letting out a pleased little sigh, they tipped their head back and closed their eyes. The warmth soothed the lingering stiffness as well as some of the aches from their bruises, and the nice smell helped them relax as they soaked. 

It was a struggle not to doze off, but as the water started to cool she roused herself and sat up again. Pulling the stopper started the tub draining, and with a tight grip on the side she carefully stood, sat on the rim of the tub to shift her legs out, and shuffled until she could reach the cabinet with towels in it. Wrapping one of them around herself, she leaned on the wall until she got to the door again. 

Clutching their towel to be sure it stayed in place, they opened the door just enough to poke their head out. 

“Need clothes.” It didn't hurt as much, but still left their throat feeling a bit rough and raw. Juniper looked up at them, gaze fixing on a newly visible bruise on their arm for a brief moment. 

“Of course, my dear.” His voice was soft and gentle, giving her a brief nod as he stood and headed to the closet. He was being very accommodating—not that he hadn't before, but it was still strange to her to have a god waiting on her hand and foot. Though she supposed it made sense, if he felt guilty for hurting her. Even if it hadn't been intentional… he still hadn't said if he'd learned anything from speaking with the others. 

Distracted by their thoughts, they were startled when he held a bundle of cloth out to them. They hadn't realized he was back, and taking it required a bit of fiddling—leaning their shoulder against the wall to keep their balance while they held their towel up with one hand and took the clothes with the other. “Thank you.”

“You don't need to speak if it hurts.” Juniper murmured, pausing with his hand still in the air for a moment before dropping it and sitting back down in a chair that appeared out of nowhere. “But go ahead and get dressed.”

It was only polite to say thank you, she thought, closing the door and sitting down to hopefully make it easier. He'd grabbed another nightdress, the fabric soft and comfortable in her hands as she set it down to put on her underthings—and tried not to think too much about that. Once she was dressed she shuffled to get her good leg under her and stood, opening the door once again—he was already standing on the other side offering her an arm for balance, which she gladly accepted.

“Feeling better?” They nodded, most of their attention focused on the awkward hops that would be needed to get back to their bed—until they felt his arm move and they were suddenly swept off their feet, grabbing at him and letting out a startled yelp that came out as more of a broken squeak. 

He froze at the sound, giving her a look that she would almost describe as panicked if she didn't know better. “Did I hurt you?”

She could practically hear the unspoken addition floating in the air as she shook her head. “Startled.”

Their heart was still racing as they tried to force away the jolt of fear that had spiked through their veins—they weren't hurt, he was just picking them up. So they didn't have to worry about their ankle. 

“Alright.” With a final, searching look, he carried her back to her bed, setting her down as delicately as if she was made of glass before kneeling down alongside the bed. “Are you hungry?”

After a moment of thought she nodded—yes, but she also wanted to talk, and maybe get answers as to what had happened.

Once again, he produced a bowl of food from nowhere—this time some kind of oatmeal. It smelled good, and was still warm as he set it in their lap.

“What happened?” They whispered, tilting their head as they took a bite. He sighed, almost seeming to deflate as he looked away from them for a moment. 

“... There are things much older than the gods, little one. And sometimes, they can… worm their way through the cracks. Most of us are able to shake off their influence without much trouble, but…”

Falling silent for a moment, his gaze once again drifted to her, and he reached out for a moment before dropping his hand again and leaning back on his heels.

“I was mortal once, did you know that? It would have been several centuries ago—an actor who caught the attention of a god.” That made her pause, spoon in her mouth as she gave him a baffled look. Humans could become gods?

Her expression made him chuckle, a brief smile crossing his face before he continued, voice growing somber as he went. “A few centuries is nothing—I'm quite young compared to most of the others. And… I was vulnerable. The old things, the ones that hide in the dark—they are older than you could imagine, and they feel the only place for humans is subservience. I suppose they thought I had been too permissive with you, and chose to make a point. And for that, I will never be able to forgive myself. I failed in my duty to keep you safe.”

… She wasn't very hungry anymore. Setting her spoon down, she wrapped her arms around herself in an anxious embrace—it could happen again. Whatever old thing had a grudge against her might decide to hurt her again, and there was little she could do about it. 

“Would you want me to return you to your place in the mortal world?”

Their head snapped towards him in shock, words spilling from them without even thinking. “No! There's nothi-”

Breaking off into a pained coughing fit, they wheezed for breath as they hunched over, a hand clutching at their burning throat. The mattress dipped beside them, and after a moment hands gently settled on their back and shoulder. 

And then, with a warm sensation the pain faded. Not gone, not entirely, but manageable—rounded over rather than sharp, jagged edges. Enough she could catch her breath again, blinking tears out of her eyes as she tried to settle her breathing.

“I'm not much of a healer, I'm afraid. It's not my particular sphere of influence.” Juniper murmured—he was tense where he sat next to her, as if he expected her to pull away from him at any moment. But whatever he was doing made her injuries feel better, so with a soft sigh she leaned against him and let her eyes close—and after a few seconds he put his arm around her shoulder to hold her close.

A comfortable silence fell for a few moments before he spoke again.

“I won't force you to leave if you wish to stay.” That sent a wave of relief rushing through them—they had little to go back to. Surely their place at the inn had been filled ages ago, and they didn't know if they would be able to find somewhere else to stay. “I simply wanted to give you the choice, if you… if you no longer felt safe with me.”

Their heart squeezed in their chest at his words, faltering and unsure, as if he expected to be rejected at any moment—as if he wasn't a god, with powers beyond their wildest imagination. They shook their head, curling against his side with a quiet whisper. 

“I want to stay.” 

She could feel tension drain from him after she spoke—it must get lonely without anyone around, and she doubted human offerings in his name were very common—, his free hand brushing a lock of hair back behind her ear and hovering for a moment over the healing cut on her cheek. “Of course, my dear. Whatever you ask.”

His hand was warm as he took theirs, brushing his thumb over the back of their palm in silence before speaking again. 

“There are… options to heal your injuries. I could ask one of the others who oversees that domain, or I could simply continue to do what I can myself—you'll recover faster than normal, but I can't heal them immediately. Or…”

He paused, squeezing her hand slightly as he gave her a searching look before turning away, brows furrowed in thought.

“... I could give you ambrosia—food of the gods. It would heal you, but you would no longer be entirely mortal. And… that is not a choice I would ask you to make lightly.”

He was human once. Was it a choice he'd made himself, or one forced upon him? Did he miss it?

The thought of being around another god frightened them—he was permissive of their irreverent behavior, but they were well aware now that wasn't a sentiment universally shared. They didn't want to draw any more ire and risk a worse fate; bruises and scrapes would heal. And the thought of losing their humanity…

He was giving her a choice, at least. But the idea of it was beyond her imagination—would she be unaging, or simply immortal? What other effects might it have on her?

Would she forget what it was like to be human? That thought above all else terrified her—she had so few memories already, to lose what little she had might as well be the end of her. 

Gaze settling on their intertwined hands in her lap, she squeezed his hand slightly before whispering, “Just you.”

He paused for a moment, but acquiesced with a soft sigh. “If that's what you wish.”

Of course, they knew he would have to leave them at some point to attend to… whatever duties gods had. But that had been when things had gone bad last time. He'd come back not himself.

“Something on your mind, little one?” He'd slowly been pulling them closer until they were practically sitting in his lap, his hand gently stroking their back—light enough not to bother any of their healing bruises, but still enough to feel. The question made them pause, trying to think of how to respond in as few words as possible. 

“Been here- don't people need you?”

Pressing his face to the top of her head—a kiss? it felt like it, but surely not—, Juniper hummed softly before letting go of her hand to cup her cheek. “At the moment, there's a frustrated London playwright struggling with his next scene, but that's far less pressing than my acolyte being injured. He will find inspiration in time, and his works will be better for it. You, however, are in no state to be left alone.”

She opened her mouth to protest, though wasn't sure what she would say—he was right, she was injured and in a rough state—, but he pressed a finger to her lips before continuing—voice soft, with an edge of tension in it, almost like guilt.

“Darling, you can't walk. It’s my duty to care for you.” His touch was gentle as he stroked their cheek with his fingers, pausing for a moment at their jaw—no doubt looking at the bruise circling their throat like a collar. 

The lightest brush against their neck made them jolt, recoiling and grabbing at their throat with a harsh wheeze—clawed fingers wrapped tight, cutting off their breath and lifting them from the ground as they struggled helplessly-

Gasping desperately for breath she curled into herself at the sudden flash of memory, but as the panic slowly faded and her breathing leveled out, her mind began to clear. Reality slowly slipped back in around the edges.

The faint smell of mint lingered around them, but they were no longer wrapped in a gentle embrace—raising their head, eyes wide, they expected to find he'd left them once again-

But her gaze quickly settled on his form sitting against the wall, eyes fixed on his hands—one curled into a loose fist and the other wrapped around his wrist. For a brief moment his fingers glimmered with a dark iridescence, but it was gone after a blink. 

“I'm sorry.” His voice was quiet, soft with the kind of meticulous even tone that hinted to a great deal of emotion being forcibly restrained, dark gaze finally flicking up to look at them. “Are you alright?”

Well, they weren't hurt any worse than they had been. A little shaken by their episode, perhaps, but mostly alright. They nodded, a knot of guilt tightening in their chest—he had been trying to help, and they couldn't even manage to keep themself together. Surely he would get tired of it eventually, walking on eggshells to keep from frightening them. They were hardly of much use now, or even good company. And he had plenty of followers, even if few of them truly knew it. He had no real need to keep them around.

“M’sorry.” She rasped out, wrapping her arms around herself in a weak attempt at comfort.

“Oh, my dear. It's not your fault, I shouldn't have pushed so soon.” His reassurance didn't make her feel much better, not with the withdrawn expression on his face. She'd just messed up again. 

Seems like the only thing they were capable of as of late. 

Juniper stood, giving them a sad glance—these past few days were the most they'd been alone since coming here, and it seemed that they weren't the only one affected—before stepping towards the door.

“I should leave you to your meal.”

Right—the half eaten bowl of oatmeal was still in her lap, still lukewarm. She wasn't particularly hungry anymore, but she'd never been one to refuse food when it was offered.

But she didn't want to be alone, either. Being around him still left part of her nervous, flighty, expecting to be punished, but at least she would know if something happened again. Wouldn't be caught unaware.

“Please stay?”

He paused, hand on the door as he turned back to them with a searching look. Whatever he was looking for he seemed to find, since he dropped his hand and turned to face them.

“If that's what you want, little one.” They nodded, spoon in their mouth after another bite of their oatmeal. That put a soft smile on his face, making his way back to the side of the bed and kneeling down to gaze up at them before holding his hand out.

“Could I see your ankle?” He asked gently, head slightly tilted to the side in a way that reminded her of a curious dog. She hummed under her breath, carefully turning to the side so she could sit on the edge of the bed. 

She hadn't actually looked at her ankle since she'd been injured. It was clearly swollen compared to her other one, stiff and painful if she jostled it too much, with an inflamed red discoloration. Juniper drew in a sharp breath at the sight, sitting idle for a moment before reaching out to wrap his hand around the joint. 

“How did this happen?” They were pretty sure they knew what he was really asking.

“Fell.” It wasn't technically a lie—they did fall. After they were dropped, but that's still falling.

He sighed, bringing his other hand up to cup their ankle and resting his forehead on their knee. “I know that's not all of it. Omission is still a lie, little one.”

Setting her now-empty bowl to the side, she wrapped her arms around herself, worrying her lip between her teeth for a moment in thought. Her throat was starting to ache again, even with what he'd been able to do to help. Her ankle was feeling better now though, an odd tingling warmth suffusing it and loosening the tight pain knotted in the joint.

“...Dropped.”

He stilled, freezing so completely they couldn't even see him breathe—did he need to?—before looking up at them with a distressed look on his face. 

“I'm sorry. None of this would have happened if I hadn't taken you from the mortal world.” That made them fall still, averting their gaze from his to the disheveled blankets at their side. 

It wasn't like she'd had any other option. If he hadn't, the band of thieves who'd offered her to him may very well have just killed her instead. No witness left behind to identify them, and the blood spilt in his shrine would technically be a sacrifice. 

“Would've died otherwise.” She mumbled, swallowing uncomfortably—the rasping feeling had returned, a dull ache in her throat that made it ever more apparent she'd pushed too hard.

His hands tightened around their leg, enough to send small prickles of pain through the already injured joint. 

“I would never allow such a thing.” They flinched at the raised volume, curling into themself like a woodlouse but unable to pull free of the grip on their ankle. Dark feathers and sharp claws swirled at the edges of their vision, and they were so very small in the face of an angry god.

Thunder rumbled in the distance—the first change in the perfectly temperate weather since she'd been here—, but she was frozen in place, barely able to hear it over the echoing of her racing heart in her ears. Her chest ached, a suffocating tightness squeezing around her lungs as she trembled in place.

They were nothing but an insect in a maelstrom, an insignificantly tiny thing that could be batted away and crushed without even a thought. Hardly worth bothering with, let alone caring about. 

Breathe. 

She gasped, sucking in a lungful of air as the single word filled her mind and shoved everything to the wayside. The ache in her chest was steadily diminishing, and after a moment she realized there was a hand pressed flat to her breastbone.

“I'm sorry. You weren't breathing- I don't like doing that.” Juniper murmured, clear reticence in his voice. As their heart slowed to a more steady pace he pulled his hand away, redirecting his attention while they settled themself—another episode. Twice within an hour, now. 

“What?” He'd done something to get them out of it, the command having overwhelmed the panic they'd been caught in. Was that something he was capable of? He'd never done it before. 

“I can be… very persuasive if I choose to be. Especially to you.” He sighed, finally glancing up at her—still kneeling alongside her bed, as if she was the goddess and he a humble supplicant. “You were offered to me. Mine to do with as I wished. But I never wanted to force you into anything—whatever you did, I wanted it to be your choice.”

Chewing her lip, she mulled over what he'd said—and hadn't said. It was enough of an answer anyways, he didn't need to spell it out.

“Can make me not scared?”

That made him pause, brow furrowing in thought. “I'm… not sure. I wouldn't want to do anything I couldn't reverse. And if there was another incident…”

They didn't need him to elaborate. Some part of them knew he was being reasonable, but they were so tired of being scared—the creeping boredom from before was far more preferable than the constant fits and lingering dread in the back of their mind.

“Please.” Their voice cracked, and they knew they must've been a pathetic sight, battered and bruised with unwashed, unbrushed hair and tear stains on their face, throat aching from how much they'd spoken in the hoarse whisper they were restricted to.

And he rarely denied her anything she actually asked for.

“Oh, darling-” Juniper straightened up on his knees, reaching out with a moment of hesitation before gently cradling her face. “I'll do what I can, little one.”

Pulling her head down slightly, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before murmuring something against her skin. She couldn't hear what he'd said, but that didn't matter. 

The effect was immediate, tension leaching from their body as they unconsciously leaned into his hands. Still awake and aware, but for the first time in days not carrying their fear and anxiety like a rock on their back. 

“Better?”

Blinking her eyes open—she hadn't realized she'd closed them in the first place—she glanced towards Juniper before giving a small nod.

“Excellent.” Smiling gently at them, he brushed his thumbs over their cheeks before continuing. “If you're willing, I've also thought of something that could help your injuries as well.”

Tilting their head, they let out a soft, curious noise—easier than speaking, and it got the point across.

“Well- if you were small enough for me to hold, it would be simpler for me to help with everything at once.” He paused, gaze flicking to her neck again before glancing away as he dropped his hands to rest on her knee. “But… I can tell- those bruises aren't from hands your size.”

He was right, of course. She couldn't deny that. But what he was saying made sense—and the thought didn't scare her as much as she expected. A little apprehensive, yes, but the blind panic she'd experienced twice today was absent. Whatever he'd done to calm her was working.

And the promise of not hurting anymore was a tempting one. With a rough hum they put their hand over his, squeezing slightly to get his attention and giving him a small smile when he looked up at them. 

“Alright, my dear. If you're certain.” He was quick to get to his feet, squeezing their hand in return before letting go to pick them up—though he paused before actually doing so. “It would be… easier in my chambers, is that alright?”

Another nod—only seeing her own room for the past several days had begun to grow tiring, even if it seemed like a sanctuary at the time. Or perhaps a prison—she still wasn't entirely sure why her door had vanished. If it had been the other, or something else.

“Door was gone.” She mumbled as he lifted her from her bed. “Thought- was bein’ punished.”

His hold tightened for the briefest of moments in response before he spoke. “The realm responds to the wishes of its inhabitants. I was unable to find an entrance until the first time I saw you, despite my attempts, and you are the only other one here.”

… Oh. 

How long had they been able to affect things, they wondered. Was that how they'd gotten back to their room in the first place? 

Juniper paused in front of her door, looking down at her with a steely expression. “I don't want to command you, but I need your word that you will tell me if you are uncomfortable or distressed. Understood?”

The firm tone in his voice was unusual, but they nodded, a shiver running down their back as they did so. He studied them for a few seconds longer before seeming satisfied, giving them a small nod in return as he opened the door. 

A familiar wave of vertigo overcame her and she squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on breathing through the dizziness until it passed. It wasn't the worst she'd experienced, and faded fairly quickly as she shook her head slightly before blinking her eyes open. 

Their breath hitched briefly, one hand clutching at their chest for a moment at catching a glimpse of the floor far below. If they fell-

With a quick, full-body shake she leaned back, closing her eyes again to try to calm herself. She hadn't even looked at him, just the height alone had been too much. But she wasn't insensate with fear, just a bit unnerved.

“Little flower?” There was a slight note of reproach in his tone—he'd told them to tell him if they were uncomfortable.

“M'okay. Just- high.” It wasn't a lie, they were more afraid of the drop than anything else. Keeping their eyes closed for the time being was probably a good idea.

“Alright.” Silence reigned for a moment, before his hands shifted around her. She bit back a startled noise, managing to quell her reaction to simply tensing as his hold changed to cradle her securely. Not crushing, but enough to keep her from feeling like she was going to fall, a solid surface at her back as he carefully stroked her shoulder with his thumb. “Better?”

They nodded, leaning into his touch with a quiet hum. Warm and—as long as they didn't see how far they were from the ground—comfortable, the now-recognizable soft tingling sensation of magic—?—soothing their aches. 

The swaying rhythm of his steps made them perk up slightly, but he didn't go far before falling still once more. 

“Hold on for a moment, little one.” His hold changed, pressing her gently against the solid surface at her back as gravity shifted until she was lying down rather than sitting. “You should be able to look again.”

Blinking her eyes open curiously, she peeked out past his hands—now cupped over her like a cave—to find Juniper laid on the bed in his chambers, with her placed squarely on his chest. The floor was now thoroughly obscured by the expanse of sheets, but the difference in elevation between them and where she was perched was small enough to not unnerve her. 

“It was more comfortable than standing, and not as high for you.” They could feel his voice rumble through his chest as he spoke like a distant roll of thunder. With a little hum they sat down, leaning into his hand and peering up towards his face. 

Still looked human, despite his size. The incident was the first time he hadn't, at least that she was aware of. She'd been blindfolded when she was offered to him, however long ago that had been.

“Had feathers. N’claws.” They murmured, gaze dropping to their hands as they wrung the hem of their nightdress. Their voice was still rough, but it didn't hurt as much to speak at least. 

He was silent at first, a dark look briefly flashing across his face but his touch was gentle as he brushed his thumb over the healing cut on their cheek. “I can, if I so chose. Ravens and snakes are my sacred animals.”

That made sense, they supposed. As much sense as anything else here did—it wasn't as if he was human anymore, and ancient gods were sometimes shown with animal traits.

“... I do want to know what exactly happened.” She snapped her attention back towards him, a hand drifting to her throat subconsciously. Of course he did, he would want to prevent any further harm to his pet. 

“Not immediately. It can wait until you've recovered.” He carefully pushed her arm down with a finger before cupping his hand around her back, stroking her shoulder lightly with his thumb. “Right now you need rest.”

With a quiet hum they lifted their hand to touch his thumb—he went still as they touched him, but didn't pull back. They didn't push him away, just wanted to ground themself a bit. 

A yawn interrupted her thought process, and they felt him chuckle under his breath. The multiple nights of poor sleep seemed to be catching up with her, as a sudden weight seemed to settle across her entire body. She rubbed at her eye with the heel of her palm, pausing for a moment as he ruffled her hair with a finger. 

“You look tired, little bird.” The hand draped around them felt heavier, encouraging them into lying down and curling up on his chest. Some still faintly nervous part of them wondered if he wasn't making them feel so tired, but even if he was they no doubt needed the sleep anyway.

She yawned, letting her eyes close and beginning to drift along with the up-and-down motion of his breathing and rhythmic sounds of his heartbeat as he stroked her back. It was nice to feel relaxed and comfortable again, not hiding away and terrified of making a misstep.

… He breathed? 

Cracking an eye open, they shifted to look up at him, quirking their eyebrow and patting his chest in a silent question.

“Yes?” He looked confused for a moment, and they put their hand against their own chest and took an exaggerated breath. His face lit up in understanding, before looking almost embarrassed. “Ah- I thought something a bit more human might help you be more at ease. I can stop if you want.”

Oh. That was thoughtful. 

Shaking her head with a little smile, she snuggled back down under his hand, letting out a content sigh and closing her eyes again. A nap sounded nice, especially now with the aches from her bruises and scrapes softened and distanced by his magic. And once she stopped holding on to consciousness, she was quick to slip under into a warm, comfortable, dreamless haze of sleep.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

If you had to pinpoint the main issue of MLB, the root of all evil if you may (aside from Astruc), what would it be?

If we're going super high level, it would be narrative consistency (I believe this is a synonym for "narrative coherence" or, at least, I've always used them pretty interchangeably and googling one finds you stuff on the other). I wanted to get an official definition of this term and wikipedia gave me this from a larger article on the theory of narrative paradigm:

Narrative coherence is the degree to which a story makes sense. Coherent stories are internally consistent, with sufficient detail, strong characters, and free of significant surprises. The ability to assess coherence is learned and improves with experience. Individuals assess a story's adherence by comparing it with similar stories. The ultimate test of narrative sense is whether the characters act reliably. If figures show continuity throughout their thoughts, motives, and actions, acceptance increases. However, characters behaving uncharacteristically destroy acceptance.

I also found a pretty good overview of the topic on the blog of a random editor. You can follow that link to read the whole thing, but I wanted to highlight this section on characters as I thought it was particularly relevant to the stuff I talk about on this blog:

Your characters will have their own personalities and behaviours that the reader will become familiar with as the story develops, so if you deviate from these patterns, the reader will notice. That’s why it’s important to maintain character consistency – that they would act in a way that is right and in keeping with their personality, rather than making them act out of character to make elements of the story fit.

As you can hopefully see from the above sources, the stuff I've talk about on here, and just generally thinking about the show, most of the issues with Miraculous have to do with the show being narratively incoherent. Characters do whatever the writers want them to do. Plot lines get dropped and picked back up then dropped (Lila) with no rhyme or reason. Big, meaningful setups lead to nothing (Gabriel learning all the temp heroes identities). Twists come out of nowhere (Kagami being a senti). They all indicate that something is majorly wrong here.

I am not involved in the production of this show, so I cannot tell you where all of these issues come from. It may be that the writing staff doesn't know what they're doing or it could be that unknown forces like marketing are driving the writers to do things that they'd rather not or it could be a mix of the two. For example, I'm pretty sure the magical charms we get in season four were only added to sell stuff like this and this, which is why I try to approach this show without pointing fingers at anyone too specific unless there's some hard evidence to back up what I'm saying. All I know is that this show has a massive writing problem and I'll end with a little advice on how I avoid this issue. It may or may not work for you. It all depends on your writing style.

When you sit down to write a story, it's very normal to not have a clear path for how to get from story point A to story point B. You don't need to find that path before you start writing. You just need to keep in mind that B is your goal and start figuring out how to logically get there.

I often describe this process as taking a journey with a known destination, but no planned route. However, just like with a road trip, the further you go, the more limited your options become because of the choices you made. If you skipped stopping at an interesting city or landmark, you can't change that fact and we're not turning the car around just so you can get a picture next to the big ball of string. You had your chance and you missed it. Accept that and move on.

Similarly, as you write your story, you have to own the choices you've already made on your journey. If you choose to let a character in on a massive secret (Alya learning Ladybug's identity), then you have to fully own how that choice would impact all elements of the story (Alya's opinion of Lila) not just the short sighted elements you wanted it to impact (note how Lila's not a thing in season four? Almost like they didn't plan out how to handle her and Alya at the same time?) Own the route you committed to and find a way to tell the next part of the story in a way that feels like it's on the same route and you'll be fine.

Does that mean occasionally having to give up on cool ideas that you really liked? Yep, but that's the nature of story telling. It's part of the reason why people are told to "kill their darlings." That's just a thing you have to learn to do if you want to be a good writer.

[cbrownjc]

As an older fan, I’m starting to get some major Sherlock-vibes from the show, in the sense that fans are coming up with all these big-brained theories to explain weak writing that we have to have faith will come to fruition in some future season. Why make the change to Lestat saving Louis? Why is Louis seemingly stronger than Armand?  Why have the Loustat reunion, only for Louis to leave and challenge the entire vampire world (despite the fact that he’s apparently in a better place mentally-speaking)? Why publish under Daniel’s name, when that would clearly paint a target on his back, especially now that he’s a vampire? What’s going on with Daniel’s eyes?

The whole “spite” thing seems like a clear mis-direct, but with only like 8-ish episodes a season and Dubai-era Devil’s Minion being 100% subtext so far, I don’t think the writing team can do DM justice. All the inconsistencies seem like they’re being written off because it’s the unreliable narrator show, when they’re actually just plot holes.

Like…I 100% think the writing team forgot makers can’t telepathically talk to their fledglings, and that’s why they had to add in the throwaway line of Lestat actually whispering to Louis in 1x02. There was no hidden reason we were meant to find, it was just inconsistent internal logic justified because Louis can’t remember anything correctly.

IDK. I don’t want to be a downer, but a lot of my hype for the show just kinda fizzled out with the finale. I'm still gonna watch S3, but I think I'm just gonna wait til the whole thing comes out this time.

Hi!

So I never watched Sherlock nor was every in that fandom, though I did hear about some things after the fact. So I can't compare it to that fandom. But I can compare things to another book series that was being adapted fandom I was in which was Game of Thrones. And I think wrt things we are at least nowhere near that level of things and theorising. Yet.

Maybe because, unlike ASOIAF all the VC books are written and done. So that's a plus.

And see, the thing is? I can actually see a lot of methods to the madness of some of the things you've listed. Especially given the nature of how the story in the show is told through POVs. Where the issue comes into it is not ever knowing if what you are seeing is true, false, or just an interpretation of the truth -- as in Louis' POV of the play-trial rehearsal.

And I'd really like to know if how they ended this season is how they plan to end every season when a full book has been adapted? Something that wraps up the main character arc and story, but just leaves a host of other questions that, if we weren't getting a Season 3, would have never been answered. And who knows if they will all be answered in Season 3? As far as Devil's Minion goes, or Armand himself, I'm not expecting it to be now, given that Season 3 is The Vampire Lestat adaptation and Armand is a straight-up villain/antagonist in that book and Daniel doesn't appear in it at all, so anything we get with him will be extra anyway.

Now, as to whether Rolin Jones and the writers have a plan, Rolin says he pitched an 8-Season (or so) Arc to AMC before he was given the show to run. So at the moment? That is the only solid thing we have to go on right now wrt if there actually IS a play or not for the show.

But see (and oh boy, please forgive me as am I about to go into a big digression here), plotting a TV show is much harder to do than a book or a movie. TV writing is way more organic given that unforeseen circumstances can occur that you've never planned for when you go into a new season of TV production. Such as the studio asking you to split the first book you're adapting into 2 seasons instead of one, leaving you with only a month to rewrite the scripts. Or, a writer's strike and then an actors' strike a few weeks later, delaying production for months. Both of which happened to IWTV wrt Season 1 and then Season 2.

So organic things beyond the show's control are why it is much harder to plan out every little detail of a TV show in advance over multiple seasons. Take another AMC show, Breaking Bad. It's known that Season 2 of that show was intricately plotted out in advance but then, after that, the writers plotted and wrote the rest of the show as things came along for the remaining seasons, with no grand design to it -- even though the creator of the show, Vince Gilligan, knew way in advance how the show was going to end. And the show was able to get there, to that ending, without having a meticulous plan over seasons on how to do so.

I mean, the character of Jesse on Breaking Bad was originally supposed to die at the end of the first season. But instead, he lived through the whole damn thing. That was not planned at all.

And I think that might very well be the situation we have going here wrt IWTV. I think there are larger things they already know in advance about the show -- which books out of all of them will adapted into full stories vs which will only get references. Which characters in the show will make it into the show as full characters vs which characters will either be cut or combined with other existing characters (as Sam Ried revealed in his interview with Autumn Brown that that is going to happen -- that some characters will be combined with others). And what end point they want each of the main four characters -- Louis, Lestat, Armadn, and Daniel -- to be at when they get to at least Season 8. (If not Season 10, which is what AMC wants, 10 seasons). I think those are things Rolin and the writers very much know.

But I don't think the show has every single little detail plotted out for every little thing wrt how they are going to get to certain things. Not super far in advance at any rate.

I do think they'll purposefully put in seeds for later -- that they very much know they are going to need later -- though I think at most they do it one season ahead if it's a little thing. I very much do think that is what the things from episodes 1x02 and 1x03 very much were, since Season 1 and 2 were supposed to just be one season originally. Or the fight in 1x05 only being shown from Claudia's POV. I think that was also deliberate and they are very much planning on visiting it once again in Season 3, as they did in Season 2.

But I also think there are some things the show has not plotted way in advance and only figured out when they are writing that particular episode. Or maybe just decided to do that season as they were writing it, and not before then. Just like how almost every other TV show works, even ones that might very well know the ending they are working toward.

So I in no way think the show has figured and plotted out every single moment and beat of Armand and Daniel's relationship. Why? Not only because much of it happened in the past -- which yes I very much still think it did -- which covers 12 years of time, but because if you look at this clip, Rolin Jones kind of hints that they haven't plotted it out completely point for point even though there are some things they've thought and figured out:

video credit: Rei Gorrei on Twitter

So as far as Devil's Minion goes, I think Rolin and Co -- mostly Rolin -- has an endpoint for it in mind. But how they get to that endpoint is probably not planned out to the letter, super far in advance. And something they very likely just come up with as they are writing that particular season. At most? I'd say they've put things in this season that will be relevant next season and that's it.

So, I'm not going to say they can't do it justice. Not yet. I frankly don't have enough data to call that in a yes or no fashion since we haven't seen anything adapted from it aside from the 3-4 days Daniel spent in a cage, which is just the very start of how Devil's Minion begins. Basically one or two paragraphs. That's all they've really adapted when it comes to it at the moment.

And hey, it's okay if you feel down about all of this. If it helps, I'd say try and take a pragmatic approach to the show season by season, and if you feel it's better to binge it than watch it episode by episode for a time, that's good too. This is going to be a long journey after all.

[queenvhagar]

Honestly, I don't really know how show runners feel about how they adapted this series, like it really hurts me as a fan because that was one of the interesting parts of Targ history and at the same time, while GRRM does have his bias, still F&B still shows you that nope, but sides are wrong in this and people suffered, especially the smallfolk.

I don't even want to compare because it would be unfair, but whenever I see bad adaptations, I am reminded of one of my favorite anime/Light novels. It's called 86 and like the adaptation, animation, CGI, the music, the story? 💯 (I'm not trying to promote it or anything, but if you already are an anime fan or if you are willing to watch mecha, then this one is so fkng worth it to watch)

I don't know if I remembered it correctly, but I think the animation staff also added some original scenes, but still stayed true to the story and characters and even with production issues because it was released during covid, they were so dedicated that when the anime was paused for a while, it returned after 86 days and the whole run was 486 days.. like you know for 86. The author even cried with how good the novels were adapted. But how about these big name companies?

It's either they just treat adaptations as another profit making thing without regard to the fans (and have the gall to be angry if criticized) or they make it a biased fan service but make all characters OOC and change the whole damn story (like if I wanted fan service, that's where fanfiction should come). Sad to say but great adaptations are so hard to find these days.

Well, I've dropped the show since Episode 3 and I have no high hopes for Dunk and Egg. 🤷‍♀️

Very true very true. HBO sees it as a money maker. Ryan Condal and Sarah Hess think they can improve upon the existing story by adding OCs, removing essential characters, changing entire characterizations and plots, ignoring in-universe logic, and pushing a surface level 2017 read of white feminism. GRRM's intentions to explore the history and portray a gray conflict with gray sides died when he gave HBO adaptation rights to his work and all he can do is blog vaguely about his disappointment while still not finishing the book series he started 30 years ago...

Disappointments abound for ASOIAF book fans who actually care about the stories, the characters, the world, the themes. It's so over and it feels like this is what the universe is telling us:

[toskarin]

A while back I feel like you mentioned an RPG that offered a villainous route that went full tilt and really delivered... to the point where most people felt bad about playing it.

I'm curious, how would you design an evil/villainous story that feels good to play while being unquestionably evil?

this ended up being rambly so it's below a break to save your dash

I think a big part of villain routes that a lot of games slip up on is assuming that the average player can act in self interest without reverting to a metagame mindset, because what actually encourages people to be selfishly villainous tends to play out in the long term, and games with structured stories can just be walked away from

in other words, a lot of the issue comes down to something inherent to interactive narratives: when the easiest path forward is checking out, your player will almost always check out. a nihilistic villain arc rarely works if you want emotional investment from the player, because a nihilistic player is going to check out

this means that, in my opinion, a good villain route that makes you feel bad usually falls into one of two categories:

"I know I am no longer fighting for the greater good or the many, but I like this character enough to want to work in their interest specifically"

"everyone but me is wrong and I, personally, could fix everything if I just had their cooperation. even if I have to force it"

but there's an interesting exception to this that you mentioned in the ask: Tyranny, up until the end (lol), manages to be a game about committing lesser-and-greater evils. through making it clear how much worse noncompliance or indecision could make things, Tyranny nudges the player towards doing objectively awful things on purpose. and it makes them feel bad!

now, to make a villain route that feels good to play, we could just expect the player to check out and make a game that revolves around simply fighting the forces of good (see: Overlord) and making them annoying, but I'd argue that even that feels out of spirit. at that point, you're just looking for snarky ways to dress up the same old villain and hero roles in different colours

so what then? well, to get a villain route that feels good to play, I'd personally revisit those two aforementioned categories. the second one was actually handled pretty well in Wrath of the Righteous and there are shades of the first in Heaven's Feel. why did they work without making the player feel like complete shit?

corruption

there's almost nobody whose moral code aligns automatically with "villainous" acts, so you have to ease a player into accepting them from a baseline. you've gotta go from good intentions, ignorance, denial, justification, and then finally land on that nihilism that was so impossible to kindle safely until that point. give the player something logical and moral to pursue, then just something logical, then just something emotional, and then ride emotion to the end

it's a fine line to tread and you run the risk of coward's pitfalls along the way (making the "good" characters villainous to justify the player acting against them being a common one), but I'd definitely go about it that way. corrupting the player is very rewarding on an emotional payoff level!

[utilitycaster]

Here’s my C3 hot take: I think Matt just messed up. I think att just didn’t do a good job DMing this one, and I’m sad but I don’t think the players could have solved the problems entirely on their own. The lack of a session zero makes no sense, but more to the point I think Matt just has to much Catholic Trauma tm to have told this story. His blind spot to religion v. Personal worship in his world building is to big to stick this one. His excitement about the culmination of these narratives after 9 years made him play story beats to close to his chest looking to surprise and shock his players, and also, because he was so tied to it, he didn’t pivot, or change the story to guide the players through. The pacing, especially at the beginning feels like he was entirely to excited to get to the clever plot.

Honestly… and this makes me sad, a lot of the issues feel like he sort of started believing his own mythology. I am so happy for him to be self confident but this all feels like a story guided by someone who thinks their terribly clever and so don’t have to rely on the same level of hard work, collaboration, prep, planning etc. of previous works (and also wanted to be novel, I just think of their original campaign announcement where they said “anything might happen” and sigh a little).

My bit of hope? That’s a really easy thing to come back from! I hope they reflect and improve going forward!

p.s. this isn’t to say the others couldn’t have made things BETTER, they could have, for sure.

Hi anon,

I disagree with most of this. Most crucially, this is not the form of campaign I think would come of Catholic religious trauma. Matt's mentioned he was raised nominally Catholic but he's also mentioned his parents were artists, hippies, and D&D players, and he seems to be on pretty good terms with them. I think this is a vast overstep on your part that came from basically nowhere, especially since the logical outcome of a Catholic Trauma campaign would in fact be one that actually did portray Vasselheim as a vast controlling force within the world regulating the worship of the gods across it. A pretty massive hole in the worldbuilding, at least as this campaign demands we see it, is that we really haven't seen religion as an oppressive force except in one highly specific case, and even that was spearheaded by mortals and not the gods and is indistinguishable from a purely political land grab. Like, the blind spot you mention is actually a sign that he was not raised particularly religious; someone who was raised strictly Catholic would be extremely aware of religion as a highly organized hierarchy with clear rules and a vast worldwide network and not "a few missionaries who didn't kill anyone or even forcibly convert anyone, Vasselheim seen as a good meeting spot for a worldwide conference, and Ludinus's grievances are all highly personal." Like, the Catholic Trauma version of Exandria has Vasselheim at war with the Empire for their banning of half of the prime deities, or going full Inquisition/Crusade on Hearthdell.

I want to be clear: when I accuse fans of projecting religious trauma it's because they outright have said shit like "I always like when a narrative kills the gods bc I'm a white southerner who was raised Christian". I do not say it just because they are affiliated with a specific religious denomination.

I also don't think the issue is so much believing his own mythology as much as the one major correct thing you said, which is the lack of not just a session zero but a heavy hand in character development, coupled with a very specific plot he wanted for this campaign. Campaign 1 worked because he tailored a campaign heavily to the interests and stories of the characters, and built a world around them. Campaign 2 similarly allowed for that same give-and-take; characters like Trent and Uk'otoa and Marion and the Gentleman came from the backstories the players came up with. Some of the players' ideas were changed as part of that heavier hand in character creation. The guidance for that campaign (morally gray and complex) was actually accurate, and when the characters took a sharp turn away from the planned story, Matt was able to pivot quite gracefully.

The problem really is that it's clear Matt had a very developed vision of this campaign and didn't realize that the characters of Bells Hells largely failed to fit within it. I don't think hard work wasn't done (I think there was in fact a TON of prep that we haven't seen, eg, I 100% believe Matt has an extensive amount of work done on Otohan, Ozo Cruth, Marquet, the Apex War, etc that Bells Hells simply did not see); I think, in fact, that like three hours of work that probably would have resulted in scrapping or drastically changing the characters to fit the intended story would have fixed the vast majority of problems here. It is only, frankly, because the characters are such a bad fit that the issues we're talking about (little establishment of organized religion vs. personal practice) even became issues! But it's literally that - it's not realizing that even a longform campaign can live or die on character creation. It might even be that too much prep was done ahead of time and he was too unwilling to abandon it.

[creative-hanyou-girl]

I don't know if anyone else feels this way but I think a big reason why I'm so chill about the changes made to the PJO show from the books is because I kind of look at each other as their own seperate canon.

Like, I read a lot of anime and manga, and anime adaptations have a huge habit for changing plot points for various reasons, and as a fan of said anime and manga, I've found that I can enjoy both versions of the same story even with the differences when I look at them as their own universe or canon. That's not to say I don't want them to be faithful or true to the source material, but if a scene or situation plays out differently for a logical or entertaining reason, than I can still appreciate that deviation from the manga even if I still like the other original version of that part more. And I can even like the reversal way if I feel an anime does something better than even the manga. But if I want to, I can look at certain moments as more canon than others because I got 2 different versions of that same scene or moment.

And, I don't know, I kind of apply that reasoning to the PJO series as well, mainly with the books, the show, and even the musical (not the movies put that right back where it came from). So far I'm loving the TV show, and while I miss some of the things they changed (like the pink poodle), this adaptation really is doing a great job with staying true to the heart and spirit of the original book that I personally am not even really bothered by the changes, especially when I remember that the books will always still be there with it's own version, or canon, of events.

Like, I will say 1 thing I adore in the books that isn't really in the show is the fact that a lot of Percy and Annabeth's "rivalry" during TLT has more to do with the rivalry between Poseidon and Athena. I just really like on how this adds a level of "forbidden friendship/love" to their relationship 'cause I personally eat the forbidden relationship trope up, especially when it's done well like with Percabeth.

Yet, even if this isn't really the reason percabeth have beef with each other in the show, I can still appreciate and enjoy that according to the show's canon, they have issues because they genuinely have problems with each other as actual people rather than their parents' rivalry, because at the end of the day, that's the PJO TV show canon, and I can always turn to the books for that version of Percabeth's "rivalry", as that is the PJO book canon.

Same goes for the characters too. I will always have and love my dark haired Percy and blond haired Annabeth in the books, but I can also welcome and love Walker's Percy and Leah's Annabeth from the show. And so far, they along with Aryan are KILLING IT as those characters.

I can love both versions of the characters.

I can love both versions of the same story.

I can look at both versions as they own seperate canon or mix them together if I so wish too (especially since both versions of PJO are written by the same guy)

And that's ok. The adaptation doesn't have to be a complete copy of the books. It doesn't have to have things play out eactly the same way. The characters don't have to look exactly the way they are described as in the books. And that's ok. I will still always have the books to love and appreciate, but I can also start to love and appreciate the new adaptation for it's new spin and twists to the same story that sets it apart as it's own canon while still staying true to the spirit of its predecessor.

Anyway, sorry if I'm not making a lot of sense. I just think the people complaining about the changes in the show are looking at it all the wrong way. The show has it's own canon just as the books have their own canon, or even the musical. At the end of the day, isn't that kind of cool to have different versions of the same story and characters? Doesn't it give you so many more options to look at the story in different ways that you can prefer or choose from? Doesn't it give you new versions of canon that you choose from? And really, as long as the PJO adaptation, or any adaptation for that matter, stays true to the heart and spirit of the original story and characters, do the changes made really matter?

[aotopmha]

General spoilery thoughts on all of Dawntrail!

Current thoughts on Wuk Lamat!

I like her, but I think they pushed her too much.

I talked about this in one of my impression posts, but you can't force your audience to like a character. You have to let the characters be who they are and then let the audience decide. This is entirely just really clunky and frustrating writing.

To also address another elephant in the room, this was my issue with Lyse, as well.

I think Wuk at least avoids some issues Lyse's character had in terms of writing.

She's a sheltered royal rather than someone who never lived in her country and she has actual solid relationships within that country, so the emotional core at least makes stronger sense. She is one of the people she is setting out to lead and at the very least, it is initially to stop a much worse candidate from ascending the throne.

But once the framing turns to her actually being deserving of the throne, I had trouble believing it all the way through, no matter how her character actually changed and I think this comes back to the narrative pushing her so much. She was the new leader because the story wanted her to be not because her growth logically lead to it.

The other big issue I have with both is just how certain aspects of them just have no nuance and those parts without nuance take over their character. Lyse's flaws at the start of Stormblood were droned over and over. And that's fine. But any one-dimensional character traits eventually become uninteresting, be it flaws or positives.

I like that Lyse's self-righteousness and insecurity is addressed even if it's not always consistent; I think she pretty firmly at least loses the self-pity that's so prevalent at the start of her arc. She becomes hyper self-aware, but the most prevalent struggle she started with is gone.

Yes, she still "fails" at a bunch of stuff beuse circumstsnces still put her in an awkward position, but at least she puts in the work to help and fix issues without constantly doubting herself. And that part is pretty consistent.

And this is same for Wuk and her naiveté and belief in happiness. It's just so one-note that it becomes uninteresting.

But I also like that Wuk ends up as the empathic big sister and learns to be serious when it matters. I like that she appoints her brother alongside her and learns to admit to her flaws. But like Lyse, it is unfortunately not always consistent. The empathy and seriousness sticks, but other stuff is shaky.

They're both incredibly messy in terms of writing, but I think I can say I at least enjoy Wuk a bunch more because of what Dawntrail is trying to be, which is a Shounen Manga with some complexity added into the mix somewhere at the level 97ish point.

A big overarching issue with Stormblood to me was that it had the serious threat of the Empire constantly in the background while trying to be an adventure story.

Dawntrail's much smaller-scale internal political conflict removes that urgency and by doing that makes the adventure and the downtime associated with it much more logical. The adventure is the point.

It's not trying to be a grand epic at least until half-way through, so I was not expecting it to be; I realised this the moment I saw how they presented the Rite of Succession as a journey to collect tablets. And Wuk Lamat is at least much more suitable to lead this story.

The Tl;dr is that I like her, but just like Lyse, the writing surrounding her has some pretty obvious flaws and this is jarring because character writing is usually one of this narrative's strong aspects.

But just like Stormblood, I think we have some really stand-out side characters that have a lot of potential.

I'll talk about them in another post.

[toujokaname]

Game master / Episode 7

Author: Akira

Characters: Rinne, Hiiro, HiMERU, Tatsumi, Aira, Takashi, Mayoi, Kohaku

"So, what I'm saying is, don't just settle for surface-level thinking. Keep questioning things over and over."

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[ Read on my site for a better viewing experience using Ois~su ♪ ]

Season: Winter

Location: Secluded Village

Later that night. The start time of the Matrix fourth match, in a corner of Amagi Village.

Rinne: —It's the Matrix fourth match, a test of courage showdown!

Hiiro: ......

Rinne: Heeey, ain't your reactions too dull?

Don't you get it? In this showdown, we'll be competing in "reaction performance," so to speak.

Idols and comedians are technically different jobs, but they're expected to pull off similar tricks, especially on variety shows.

And that's a must-have skill for idols.

No matter how good you are at singing or dancing, if you suck at banter or cracking jokes, you won't be seen as a first-class idol.

That's why we compete in this. I've said it many times, Matrix is a competition between Crazy:B and ALKALOID, to see which are the superior idols.

HiMERU: —HiMERU understands the logic. However, that's a weak point of his.

Tatsumi: It's one of mine as well. But you don't need to worry, HiMERU-san is an amusing person to look at.

HiMERU: Are you mocking HiMERU?

Aira: Hey! Instead of brushing it off like it's no big deal, I think we need to talk about "this problem" more!

Hiiro: Umu. Since we came to this village for work, it's inevitable that work progress takes priority in some aspects.

But, if you leave questions unanswered, we won't be able to perform at our best.

To ensure Matrix progresses smoothly, I believe issues should be addressed promptly.

Rinne: Gyahaha, you've gotten real good at making excuses, Otouto-kun.

Nah, you've been like that since you were a kid.

Always spouting these clever-sounding arguments you didn't even get.

"Adults are always right. The law is always right. What's right is right, so Nii-san should obey it, too," right?

Hiiro: Rather than dealing with the consequences of breaking the rules, I think it's easier to just follow them.

Rinne: It depends on the kind of rule. For example, suppose me, Ai-chan, or someone you love commits a crime punishable by death, right?

In that case, would you be able to follow the rules and execute us? Because that's the law? Because what's right is right?

Hiiro: That's such an extreme example, Nii-san...

Rinne: That it is. But even the most trivial argument, when you dig deep into it, becomes a crucial issue that affects our lives and the world.

So, what I'm saying is, don't just settle for surface-level thinking. Keep questioning things over and over.

Rinne: Besides. Otouto-kun and the others seem to think it's a problem, but wasn't "that person" properly explained to them?

Takashi: ......

Mayoi: Hawawa... Truly, this is a big problem. Tiny Hiiro-san is just far too adorable...☆

Tatsumi: That's true, but is that really the problem here...?

Rinne: Then what's the problem? Like I said, this boy's name is Takashi Amagi—

The child born between me and Anzu-chan.

Kohaku: T-That's why we ain't buyin' that explanation, y'know?!

HiMERU: Indeed. It's an utterly implausible story.

Rinne: Huuh? How can you be so sure it's impossible? You guys don't know, right? How close Anzu-chan and I are—

HiMERU: HiMERU was under the impression that you were merely colleagues, hence his confusion?

Kohaku: Yeah... Let's say, for the sake of argument, that this kid really is the child between Rinne-han and Anzu-han. It's a stretch to think they're total strangers, right?

Mayoi: In that case, the Amagi family's blood, or rather, genes, are too overpowering...

Kohaku: But even then, it's still a problem. Surely you haven't forgotten. We're still idols even if we're a tad rotten, y'know?

Did ya reckon we'd just shrug and be like, "Oh, he's got a kid? Sure, whatever," and let it slide?

Tatsumi: In fact, if it is true, it would be a major controversy.

Poor Niki-san was so shocked he ended up bedridden. Perhaps he can't move because he ate too much dinner.

HiMERU: Even that amount wouldn't satisfy him, in Shiina's case.

However, it is understandable that Shiina was upset. For Amag—Rinne, Shiina is his longest-standing companion here, aside from his younger brother.

Even Shiina, whom one could call his dear wife of many years, was caught off guard, so it's difficult to fathom such an improbable story.

[ ☆ ]

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