#this is really well done. this animation is really good

[kaiser1ns]

#. 店長はメイド様 ！

featuring 𝘀𝗮𝗷𝗮 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝘀 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

fluff + angst + hurt with comfort. equal parts chaos, cute, and crackhead energy and you're right in the middle of it all, the unofficial babysitter-manager of the saja boys. somehow, being a maid ended up on your resume, too.

CHECK OUT THE SERIES MASTERLIST

HOW IT ALL BEGAN you can't believe this. how did you lose a bet to JINU, of all people? you knew the moment he flashed that smug grin and shuffled the uno deck, that something was off, because he just made you draw not one or four, but twenty cards. you're 99% sure he had a second pile tucked into his hoodie sleeves, and you're 1000% sure someone helped him cheat, most likely BABY, who accidentally knocked over the draw pile every five seconds.

behind you, ROMANCE is gently patting your back like you just got stood up for a date. ABBY gives you a headpat, which somehow makes you feel even smaller. and MYSTERY hands you a cold soda like it's some kind of reward just for putting in an effort.

“this is not fair, jinu!” you said, or rather shouted, slamming your uno cards onto the table like you've lost everything important in this life. maybe because you really have lost any respect for him, and whatever dignity you had left. “you cheated!”

“woah, hey now,” he says with this fake tone full of innocence and justice, raising his hands like he's some criminal who robbed the bank. “don't make assumptions if you can't prove them. you lost name-ssi, now pay up.”

you can't believe this is happening. how? when? what? why?

your punishment is even worse than losing the card game. you have to be the maid for an entire day. not just a maid…his maid. you didn’t even want to ask how he had prepared a maid outfit so fast. did he plan this all along? 

jinu shoved you into a room, as he just grins. the audacity. “come on, don’t keep your master waiting~”

“you’re weird,” that's all you managed to say before the door closed completely. it's just you and the dress that was on the hanger. a maid outfit. a real maid outfit with ruffles, ribbons, a little apron … and a fluffy cat tail. oh, no, he didn't. it’s already embarrassing enough that you lost to a cheater in a card game, and now this.

when you look in the mirror, you have to admit... it’s not that bad. it fits suspiciously well. actually, you look good, but that doesn’t change the fact that you now have to say things like welcome home, master~ and giggle like an anime girl with no self respect who exists only for the fanservice. hopefully, you'll have a well-deserved break from idiots like them after this disaster.

stepping out into the living room, and the reaction is not what you expected.

romance literally explodes into floating pink hearts. he’s glowing like a firework, with sparkles and glitter. how does he do that? baby chokes on his energy drink and drops it on the floor. abby suddenly buttons up his shirt like he needs protection. mystery stares at the table because he doesn't want to look at you. and jinu just stares at you like his brain just short-circuited. wait, is he blushing?

“ew,” you mutter, covering yourself with your arms, even though the outfit isn’t even that revealing. “don’t act like i wanted this. you made me do it.”

he walks up to you with that stupid little smirk, then plops something on your head. a fluffy headband with cat ears.

“there,” he says, adjusting it while maintaining eye contact with you. if you could gouge his eyes out with the black ribbon from your corset, you would have done it already. “that should do.”

you’re going to kill him. perform an exorcism, spray him with the emergency water bottle, smash a cake in his face. only after you survive the next twenty-four hours of saying ‘master’ every time someone asks you for service.

ORDER ONE: MORE TEA PLEASE! it started rather normal, really. just you sitting on the swivel chair in the kitchen, your hands lightly tapping the kitchen island with your nails in a soothing little rhythm. it was calm and quiet, manageable for now. you hoped it would stay this way.

but knowing him, or rather, knowing them, nothing is ever as it should be. it’s like they were summoned straight out of the ninth circle of hell and deposited into the mortal world solely to destroy your peace. you always wondered if they were demons. very possible, especially jinu. is he their power-hungry demon lord? honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was.

still, you tried to enjoy the calm while it lasted. emphasis on tried.

because a voice came in a low tone, like a whisper, right in your ear—

“boo~”

you jumped out of the chair and slapped the intruder with so much force that the sharp smack echoed through the kitchen, followed by a dramatic yelp of pain and agony.

“ow! what was that for?” you turned to see jinu holding his face, his hair slightly tousled from the attack, looking at you like you’d just committed a sin that would be hard to forgive. and then, you started laughing. yes, laughing directly in his face. 

“deserved~,” you said, arms crossed smugly, then muttered under your nose calling him an asshole, bastard, jerk, a demon spawn. the usual nicknames you have for him. he rubbed his face like he was collecting evidence for a lawsuit, then locked eyes with you. except it wasn’t a normal look. no, no—it was the jinu look. the smug kind, the dangerous kind, the infuriating kind.

“what did you call me?” he asked, pretending to be offended, what a drama queen. “i think you should read the instructions again.”

hold up …instructions? what instructions? were you in a fever dream or some prank show with a secret camera?

“i’m not calling you that,” you muttered, breaking eye contact immediately because if you looked at him any longer, your soul would start to leave your body. he raised a brow. “you know you should do everything i tell you to, right?”

you sighed, disappointed, without a shred of will to live and full of regret. “yes, i know.”

he leaned in a little. “yes, who?”

this was it. this was your villain origin story. not counting anything that's happened so far: the photo shoot with abby, the dates with romance, the secret cuddling sessions with mystery, the hot sauce from baby. no, it was this.

“yes…master.”

he giggled. oh no he just didn't giggle like a girl who just pulled her bias photocard. even worse because the torture didn’t stop there.

“can i have more tea, please?” he asked sweetly, stretching like a smug little prince on the couch, legs up on the table expecting to get the royal treatment he oh-so deserved.

you smiled through gritted teeth. “would you like green, herb, or black tea? i think the last one matches your intentions, mind, and soul, master.”

he blinked for a few seconds, then shrugged, ignoring your comment. jinu will spare you the punishment this time, you will still mess up again anyway. “herb, and add honey too.” fine. herb it is. you served it with a sweet smile, placed it gently on the table in front of him like a polite little servant.

and then you waited for the moment the cup touched his lips, he let out the most heavenly, high-pitched shriek. it was music to your ears. it's so nice to watch him suffer after he thought he was the boss.

justice is served. so was the tea, burning hot by yours truly.

ORDER TWO: CINDERELLA REINCARNATION it had only been four hours since your shift started, and somehow, you were already reconsidering your life choices. you’d been cooking, cleaning, folding clothes, brewing teas, blending smoothies, and responding to every ridiculous whim of master jinu. a phrase that made you want to eat a poisonous apple like snow white. master and jinu should never be in the same sentence, in fact, they shouldn’t even be in the same dictionary.

you were currently mopping the kitchen floor, all because someone decided you weren’t working hard enough and just so happened to spill their entire drink right in front of you. who was that someone, you ask? take a wild guess. yes, bingo! jinu. master jinu, destroyer of peace, menace of society, the devil in disguise.

“oops,” he’d said with a smile that could’ve won him millions of awards for best villain in a k-drama. “you missed a spot there~”

thank you, master jinu, for your generous gift of sticky soda and extra labor. truly, what a divine blessing. your spirit is overwhelmed with faith, love, and just the tiniest urge to scream into a bucket.

you threw the wet rag at him, but of course he dodged it, effortlessly, might you add. he was truly born to be an actor, especially for the role of the main villain. jinu laughed at you and you considered mopping the floor with him next time.

at this point, you were convinced you were the reincarnation of cinderella and jinu was the evil stepmother, baby was definitely one of the wicked stepsisters, probably the one with the louder laugh, and abby was the other one who just giggles and agrees with everything. abby is the definition of a traitor.

at least mystery and romance hadn’t betrayed you…yet. they seemed sweet enough, but who knows when they'll snap and request a five-course meal with handmade napkin origami shaped like swans, dragons or tigers.

as you scrubbed, your brain short-circuited and automatically started playing that one song from cinderella, the mice version. you could hear the high-pitched voices in your head:

"cinderelly, cinderelly, night and day it’s cinderelly. make the fire, fix the breakfast, wash the dishes, do the mopping!"

accurate. painfully accurate. the story of your life before you were even born.

finally, you finished the mess and got up to go wash your hands in the bathroom, but jinu stopped you in the most jinu way possible.

“would you cook something, please? maybe some eggs with bacon? or ramyeon? oh! what about handmade pizza?”

would he like to be handmade murdered?

you hate him. you hate his stupid perfect face with his stupid pretty eyes and his stupid charming voice that definitely shouldn't make your heart beat faster but unfortunately it does. you smiled. a smile full of thoughts, and not the nice ones. “yes, master,” you said, dead inside.

in the bathroom, you looked at your reflection and barely recognized yourself. the dark circles were giving a woman who worked seven days a week, twenty-four hours with no breaks. lifeless, exhausted, annoyed.  splashing your face with cold water and whispering a motivational speech to yourself, which sounded more like desperate sobbing.

“i got this. just a little longer and i will be free. fake it till you make it.”

trying to remember who you were, before this. freedom was a concept, peace was a myth, and saja boys didn't even exist.

when you stepped out, you were met with romance standing in the hallway. oh, sweet angel romance. the one person who could offer salvation. your face lit up, and you ran up to hug him.

he held up a hand. “jinu said he needed you. also, can you make kimbap?” your smile dropped and your soul left your body. eyes filled with tears, as a single scream echoed through the hall. somewhere in the kitchen, jinu took a calm sip of tea and smiled to himself like the smug little prince he was.

you were the real reincarnation of cinderella, minus the fairy godmother which you wanted to have so much, so she could free you from all the pain and suffering.

ORDER THREE: MYSTERY IS HISTORY it’s been seven hours. seven hellish hours since you became jinu’s so-called maid. after blood, sweat, and nearly crying over a mop bucket, he finally let you have your ten-minute break. wow, how generous, how benevolent. someone give this man a medal for basic human decency.

so naturally, you went to the only safe haven you could think of: mystery’s room.

sweet, quiet, actually listens when you speak. mystery is the only one who hasn’t pushed you into a breakdown or tried to make you be the main lead for another anime maid fantasy. he’s done some dumb things, sure, but he’s never made you scrub the floor, he just spilled soda on because you missed a spot.

you crept in, closed the door behind you, and face-planted straight into his bed. fluffy, warm, and not covered in jinu’s crimes. this is what it feels like to ascend in heaven. mystery didn’t even flinch when he saw you. in fact, he looked happy. “hey,” he said softly, “you okay? do you need anything, (name)-ssi?”

“no,” you groaned into the blankets, “i just need peace and quiet. to be far away from jinu before i commit a crime.”

he chuckled and sat near you, listening as you ranted about how humbling this whole day has been. “i bet even huntr/x treats bobby better than this. maybe i’m paying for the sins of my ancestors. or wait, what if i killed jinu in a past life and this is his revenge arc?”

“seems like something he’d do,”

your eyes were starting to droop as you talked. you were just so tired. cook this. clean that. jinu wants eggs. jinu doesn’t want eggs anymore. jinu thinks the floor is thirsty and pours juice on it. he doesn’t want help, he just creates more unnecessary work for you. and the worst part is when your heart speeds up a little when you think about him. ugh. it’s not affection. it’s hatred, right? hatred. anger. intense desire to throw him off a balcony. yes, that’s it.

before you knew it, the hallway echoed with jinu’s voice. break’s over, time to return to the seventh circle. you sat up, hugged mystery like a soldier off to war, and whispered, “goodbye, my angel.” then sprinted out before jinu could catch you red-handed. you didn’t think anyone saw. it’s strictly forbidden to seek help from the others. jinu’s rule, of course.

but when you got back to the kitchen, there he was. lounging on the couch, flipping through a magazine like a celebrity at a hair salon.

“a little birdy told me you had a nice, relaxing break,” he said without looking at you, flipping through pages because he clearly had nothing else to do but pick on you. across the room, baby was sipping juice. you glared so hard it nearly curdled his drink. you picked up the broom you used not long ago and had murder in your eyes.

“nuh-uh,” jinu said smoothly. “you stay here, i don’t trust you.” the broom snapped in your hands like your nerves and the last little drop of your patience.

they are all so dead when this torture is over.

later, when another break came around. yes, shocking a break. you returned to mystery’s room. your safe haven, your one and only angel, but…he was gone.

you blinked, looked around. nothing. no mystery, no peace. no, this can't be. he was right there, you saw him with your own eyes, you literally saw him go to the fridge to get something to drink and now... your savior couldn't be saved.

then you turned your head, and there he was. jinu was leaning against the doorframe, smiling, with eyes glowing in a demonic gold. what a jerk was your master. my condolences, may the heavens save you now. even though you doubted it you will make it in one piece. hope dies last.

ORDER FOUR: TRIP TRIP FALL FOR ON HIM! after nearly ten hours of living the life of a disney princess…well, more like before the singing animals and magical makeover, you were currently experiencing actual war flashbacks. hands still slightly wrinkled from hours of washing dishes, and arms sore from fetching snacks, drinks, and everything in between.

now, all five of them were lounging on the couch, while you stood next to them, awaiting their demands. ready for another order from the wish list: bring juice or scratch my back or suffer for my amusement.

mystery wasn’t allowed to talk to you (still unclear why, but you know why). baby and abby were furiously pushing the buttons of the joystick, playing a tv game. romance was doing what he does best; watching things happen while looking good. as for jinu…that man had fused with the couch. if you looked too quickly, you might mistake him for a pillow.

you were just standing like a statue. too scared to sit, too tired to live. you had mastered the ancient skill of sleeping with your eyes open. now that your mind was drifting somewhere soft to your bed. clouds for pillows. a pile of warm blankets, tiny stuffed animals cuddling around you. a baby staring into your soul—

wait… a baby?

baby, the actual boy, not some figment of your sleepy hallucinations, was right in front of you, blinking slowly.

“yes, baby?” you said, with a smile faker than their real intentions. “do you need something?”

“i need more juice.” of course you do.

thus began your olympic marathon to the kitchen. congratulations, you were officially on juice run #36! fun fact: you once gave baby room-temperature juice and were nearly exiled. and no, he didn’t want the same snack as earlier. and yes, he now wanted sparkling water, peach-flavored

you were losing your mind one step at a time.

romance asked for seaweed snacks. jinu wanted fruit, peeled and arranged in a heart shape. abby asked for energy drinks, and baby just liked watching you run around. much to your relief, mystery didn't want anything, he just sat there like a lone wolf.

you mixed up two orders accidentally. gave abby’s drink to baby and jinu’s snack to romance. jinu didn’t even flinch. he just raised an eyebrow and said, “that’s not my snack,” then started judging for your poor service.

you tried to stay strong, but you only had two hands and zero patience.

at some point, everyone left except for jinu, of course. because why would he move when he’s so comfortable doing absolutely nothing? 

you just finished the dishes, never mind that there was still more to wash. going to go check on couch prince jinu, and that’s when the lights went out.

in that pitch-black room, you tripped. k-drama style. over a can, a carpet wrinkle, and maybe your own broken will to live. your arms flailed in the air, your mouth opened in slow motion with life flashed before your eyes: memories of snack orders and juice spill.

you braced for the impact, but you landed... not on the floor. no, you landed in his lap. back against his chest, his arms had instinctively wrapped around your waist.

it might have been dark, but somehow, you could see him perfectly. like you were drawn to him and only him. you looked straight into each other’s eyes, his beautiful chocolate irises soft and deep, shining with a warmth that made your breath catch in your throat. his gaze was so soft.

his pupils were dilated, wide and dark, and you were sure yours were too, mirroring the surprise and the tension. you had never been this close before.

your skin burned where his arms held you, and you couldn’t tell if it was the room’s heat or the heat rolling off of him. every second stretched, slowly and intoxicatingly, as if time would stop itself. he was so handsome. too handsome, and right now, dangerously close.

you both blinked, trying to wake up from this dream. how sweet that you think it's a dream. your faces leaned in, you both weren't thinking, because you were behind pulled by something magnetic. your lips were just a breath away from his. almost touching, millimeters from what would have been the second big bang the universe may experience.

was this real? was this romantic tension? do i…like him?

and then, the universe said let it be light. the sound of the lamp clicking was heard and baby had his mouth wide open, shocked, staring like he just walked in on a drama finale. you immediately got up from jinu, brushing past baby as you sped up your pace to go somewhere that was not here. your life depended on not glancing at the maknae, with your eyes glued on the floor, you were close to the room you used here.

behind you, jinu calmly looked at baby and said, “not a word should come out of your mouth. pretend this never happened.” baby nodded like his life also depended on it, mouth zipped shut, and his feet carried him to his room.

now jinu was left completely alone with his thoughts and heart that wouldn't stop beating like crazy. no amount of pretending would make that go away.

ORDER FIVE: HOUR OF THE SOUL you couldn’t sleep after that. how could you, when every thought kept going back to what might have happened, what could have happened, if baby hadn’t shown up. for once, you were glad to see him, even if the moment he walked in was probably the most humiliating thing that’s ever happened to you.

tossing and turning in your bed, still dressed in the same uniform, you hugged your pillow like it could rewind the time. it was exhausting, but your mind kept replaying everything: his heartbeat, his arms around your waist, the way your lips nearly brushed–

you groaned and rolled over again, smothering your face in the soft blanket. there would be no peace and quiet tonight, only the services of the manager as a maid.

it’s 2:34 a.m. and they’re at it again: complaining, bickering, calling your name like a broken record. dragging your feet out of bed, eyes barely opening, arms ached, your head pounded. you didn’t even feel human anymore.

just a walking, breathing puppet knew nothing but to serve.

they wanted more blankets, a charger, a midnight snack, a lullaby. what more do they want? they already have your patience and sanity off the list.

you were so tired, barely awake when dragging your feet from one room to the next, mumbling yes, and okay, and coming as if you were born to say only this, and to do what you're told.

and then came the final straw, the moment everything shattered.

you turned the corner too fast, and so did jinu. the tray slipped from your hands, and the cold liquid soaked his shirt. it was a harmless incident. “i’m sorry—” that’s all you managed to say, before he snapped.

“can’t you do something decent for once? pathetic, watch yourself.”

you stood there for a second. frozen, paralyzed, shocked. then something inside you just twisted. you slammed the tray to the ground, and it clattered with a loud, echoing sound through the hall. doors opened with familiar faces peeking out, but you didn’t care, not anymore.

“i’m not your maid,” you hissed, voice trembling as tears spilled down your cheeks. “i’m not your babysitter, or your doll. is this all i am to you? a joke you can laugh at?”

they stared at you, not knowing how to react, let alone say something. they’re not human, most definitely are not, because no human could be so heartless. maybe they really are some otherworldly creatures, your worst nightmare dressed in perfect skin.

“ungrateful,” you spat. “that’s what you all are. i didn’t hear a single thank you today. not one sorry. it’s always ‘i want this,’ ‘bring this,’ ‘give me that’ like i’m not even a human being.”

romance flinched, and abby stepped back. mystery didn’t meet your eyes, baby was silent for once. and jinu just stood there, staring. 

“you,” screaming until your voice cracked, tears falling freely as you pointed at jinu. he didn’t flinch, never does because to him you are not a threat. “you are the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

your voice broke. you wanted to quit, to walk away and go back to being just a girl. someone who studies, who sleeps, who breathes, who is herself.  you don't want this, not whatever they turned you into.

jinu lips parted, like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. he didn't know what to say in a situation like this. he's always so sweet-talking, always knowing what to do, but now he doesn't know. 

“you made me hate this job. hate myself when i used to dream about being someone. and now i dream about escaping.” you reached up and yanked off the headband from your head. those stupid ears, those stupid challenges, those stupid jerks.

you threw it to the floor, stepped on it until it cracked. “i never want to see any of you again.”

they felt something then. something foreign and wrong. maybe it was shame, guilt, or regret. a sting deep in their chests, and the strange thing is that demons don’t feel. but tonight... unfortunately they did. 

you didn’t know the truth, at least not entirely, but you didn't need to know what they really were. it was crystal clear. that they’re not humans, not even close to that. their souls are twisted by power, feeding off the world they pretend to belong in because they broke something human. 

they broke you.

and maybe you were fragile, too soft for this world, or too good for this world, too good for them. despite that, it didn’t mean you deserved to go through hell and back.

jinu reached for you, but you stepped back. his touch used to be warm, now it chilled you, made you put an icy wall to keep him away. you looked at him, not angry anymore, just empty, done, soulless.

then you turned and walked away from them. no words, just the silence of the broken trust and the sound of your door slamming shut. they watched until you were gone and only jinu’s eyes dropped to the broken headband at his feet.

and suddenly, none of them felt powerful anymore.

ORDER SIX: TO SMILE AGAIN you haven’t blinked since then. you were just sitting on the ground, hands resting on your knees, head falling forward, your back against the door. how many hours had passed already—three? four? most likely five. the sun was spilling through the window blinds, a beam of light shining right onto you. how ironic, to have light shine on you when everything inside you is complete darkness.

you were tired, energy drained, couldn’t fall asleep, or even feel anything. there was nothing to be sad about anymore. you thought about quitting this position. you’d still find another job, something that pays well, or at least enough to support yourself. you’re a smart girl, hardworking and persistent. there’s no way you wouldn’t be able to handle whatever’s about to come.

exhaling deeply, heavily as you felt how much your body hurt. you could barely stand, but you did it. at the very least, you wanted to go to the bathroom, to freshen up your withered self as much as you could.

but something was stopping you. you didn’t want to open the door, or see any of them.

they were probably asleep by now, it was still early. after all, they were the spoiled princes who didn’t care about anything or anyone.

your hand slowly reached for the metal handle. your movements were hesitant at first, but then it touched the cold surface, sending a shiver through you as you rose onto your tiptoes. that’s when you noticed the atmosphere around you. you were still in that mocking uniform, didn’t even have the energy to change out of it.

blinking slowly, swallowing painfully hard, you gently pressed the handle. the door creaked open with a quiet noise, and you closed your eyes. you didn’t know why. perhaps because you didn’t want to face reality or take a step forward. 

you wanted to take a step back. to close the door, to lock yourself away somewhere. but you took that step forward: without looking. your foot hit something that blocked you from going any further.

and then you opened your eyes.

what stopped you were the boys, who were sleeping outside your door. you blinked, rubbed your eyes once, twice, except they were still there curled up in sleep, like guilt had covered them instead of a blanket.

leaning against the walls, backs slouched, curled in exhaustion. you almost closed the door again. you don’t want to see them, you shouldn’t. but it’s hard, isn’t it?

why does it feel like this? there’s no word for it, no way to describe what you are experiencing right now, not really.

your chest tightens, like someone’s wrapped a chain around your heart, pulling until it either explodes or crashes straight down. there’s a lump in your throat and you start to tremble.

is it panic rushing in? or is it fear? being afraid of forgiving them, afraid of being hurt again. to be used and treated like someone who is nobody.

you really don't know what to think and feel at this moment, not when your eyes timidly and slowly stopped at abby, then baby, whose head rested on his shoulder. your gaze followed other colors, pink and purplish hues, romance and mystery, a little apart from the others. then you looked down, right at your feet.

jinu was directly at your door. his legs in the entrance, arms folded, breathing soft and steady.

have they been sitting here all morning...but why? weren't they the monsters who never did anything for you? why are they only doing something like this now?

so many questions you didn't know if you wanted the answers to.

you hadn’t expected them to be outside your door, let alone sleep. you assumed they had walked off when you slammed it. you wanted to hate them, but your heart didn’t know what to do with their silence.

you just stared at them, couldn’t move, otherwise you would wake them up… if they weren't already awake. then you saw it, a small movement.

abby slowly opened his eyes and looked at you. he smiled and it was kind, sweet, sincere. you watched as his shoulder gently nudged the green-haired boy beside him. baby stirred, rubbing his eyes with his fists and yawning before looking up at you. he didn’t smile, but there was something in his eyes.

romance and mystery followed, stretching their shoulders, preparing to stand but abby stopped them with a simple lift of his hand.

then you looked down again. jinu was awake, and he was already looking at you. staring at each other again, soul to soul, just like yesterday.

nobody said anything. not you, not him, not them. what doesn’t seem unfamiliar, feels unfamiliar.

and then they stood up. lined up, and bowed down to you. it’s not casual, it’s heavy. the kind of apology that doesn’t expect forgiveness, only acknowledgment.

and you freeze, because no one’s ever bowed to you like that before. not them, especially not when it mattered or when it hurt.

your breath catches, and you hate how fast the tears come, but there’s no stopping it. your chest lurches, too tight, with the chain around your heart pulling harder, like it wants to snap, but instead it breaks you.

you cry, no, you break. right in front of them. a choked sob slips out before you can swallow it, and once it starts, it doesn't stop. for a second, you don’t even know why, because it’s not just sorrow. it’s anger, grief, and relief all at once. you hate that you still feel something. that their bow means something. 

“we are extremely sorry, (name)-nim. please forgive us. but even if you don’t… we will understand.”

their heads almost touched the ground. it's inhuman because it is not normal for them to bow to you. is this shocking because they are not supposed to express regret?

they looked up slightly, enough to see you trembling and sobbing. they didn’t know what emotions were coursing through you. hell, you didn’t even know. panic set in. not know what to do with you, until your legs gave out, and you fell to the ground.

“you are the biggest idiots i have ever met.” you said through cracked sobs, a shaky voice, and only your muffled crying was clear. “you’re awful, terrible, insensitive, ruthless, heartless jerks.”

they didn’t speak in defense. because you were right. they just lowered their heads again; however, you hit each one of them and told them to get up.

the saja boys had never done anything like this before—never apologized.

this was new. and you prayed it was real and not just a tactic to get away with it. they all stood up, rubbing their heads when jinu spoke.

“i’m sorry, (name). i didn’t mean to take it that far. and you’re right… about me, about us. about how we treated you. we didn’t see how much you were doing—how much you already gave.” he bowed again. like a man with dignity, with respect for you. “if your choice is to quit… you’re more than free to do so.”

that was the icing on the cake. jinu apologizing to you, jinu admitting that he was wrong, to look like a person with a pure soul.

“get up before i make your face kiss the ground.” he stood up very confused because he expected another reaction and you…you just hugged him. “others too… group hug.”

they surrounded you, arms wrapping around, warm and gentle. you melted into the embrace. it was nice, comforting, exactly what you needed.

someone to notice you.

you weren’t going to quit, but if something like this ever happened again. you were packing your bags and saying hasta la vista.

“one more screw up, and you will be on permanent boathouse duty. scrubbing old men’s backs and feet until your fingers start to fall off.”

and just like that you were back to your usual self and you felt how the boys tensed.

“yes, ma’am!”

SHIFT END: MANAGER-NIM VENGEANCE somehow, everything was back to normal, and technically, you won the challenge. because you never changed out of that cursed uniform. one of the rules was simple: if you changed, you automatically lost. but you didn’t, so you won.

and what better reward than making them your maids instead?

yes, you heard that right. the saja boys, guilty and worried, told you that you could wish for anything, and they’d make it happen to make up for everything. they didn’t even ask how you got maid outfits that fast, just shrugged and said, “manager magic,” probably. ready for anything, anytime.

abby’s muscles were practically about to tear through the fabric, but wow... what a view. baby looked like a grumpy little kitten, pouting in lace and ribbons. romance? absolutely slayed. he looked better in that outfit than you did. mystery was awkward but cute. and then, of course, the maid of honor, your personal servant, the one and only jinu. doesn’t he look criminally good in a corset and skirt?

you were now lounging out on the dorm’s big balcony. mini kids pool at your feet, deck chair underneath you. abby fanned you gently while mystery held up an umbrella to keep you shaded. a peaceful, well-earned vacation with the best possible staff.

romance was giving you the softest little massage on your arms. baby stood nearby, holding your drink. “wait,” you said, lifting up the sunglasses. “i wanted apple juice… actually, no. orange juice now.”

baby groaned and trudged off to the kitchen. cute. and then there he was, the star of the show, maid jinu, returning with your sweets and a tray of carefully peeled fruit cut into… stars? you raised an eyebrow. “i asked for heart shapes.”

his eye twitched. “yes, master,” he muttered, and went back to the kitchen without a word to fix it.

you let out a long, satisfied sigh and closed your eyes again. the breeze, the pampering, the silence. it was perfection. and no, this wasn’t just a one-day deal, they were doing this for a whole month. every single day.

you were, without a doubt, the saja princess.

because they needed to taste their own medicine. and what better way to do it than serving you? besides, you totally deserve it.

MANAGER-NIM 1, SAJA BOYS 0.

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©2025 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work.

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles—Update 11/July/2025

The chapter is finished!

And then I totally went into social media days and editing like the plan was and didn’t start writing the next chapter at all…

Well…about that…hehe! ;D

I really should do the editing, especially as I have the edits back from the previous chapter from the editor too, but I am WAY TOO excited for this chapters, guys! Like, foaming-at-the-mouth-to-write-it kind of excited!! It's one of the first scenes I came up with when I figured out what was going to be the story for the MC and villain in this book!

It’s a big chapter to write because there’s quite a major decision to be made that affects the entire scene—you get two different versions of the chapter depending on the choice you make in this dramatically awesome moment!

And then it varies again depending on romances, etc.

Ohhhh…it’s such a good one! I know you’re not supposed to have ‘candy bar’ scenes, but oh boy—this is definitely one of the many candy bar chapters in this book, lol! :D

So, I’m gonna keep writing, then after it’s done, I’ll stop and do some major editing sessions to catch up with all that!

I will have to pause and social media days next week, as I want to catch up on asks, messages, mails, etc, but there’s still no way I’m resisting the call of this chapter…it’s just too good! :D

Hope you all have the most amazing weekend! We’ll be offline as usual (and doing our best to keep ourselves and all the animals cool in the heatwave!), so I’ll update you all again next week! <3

[idiasweat]

caught in inaction

idia | rook catching gn!yuu skipping class in the bathroom warnings: self-deprecating language, anxiety, self-harm (in rook's) word count: 3k (idia) 2.1k (rook)

10:23.

Your phone is dying.

You forgot to plug it in last night... again.

And you've beaten the rest of the battery to death with mobile gaming and the music blaring through your earbuds. You're sure to be half-deaf by next semester, the way this one's been going- the two-thaumark things you found in the bargain bin at a thrift in Foothill Town were the only kind that matched your archaic phone's jack, and every beat felt like your ears were being full-body tackled to the floor. But anything is better than the unforgivable silence of Monday morning. You had just barely managed to convince Crowley that wearing earbuds in every class is an important custom in your world, and you wouldn't be able to function or focus without them.

He was either really gullible, or he just wanted you to get the hell out of his office before his lunch break started (which you had accounted for, of course. You wanted to be there about as much as he did...)

10:25. Six percent left. You're not going to be able to survive the rest of the day without the sweet oblivion of fuzzy earbud feedback and the white noise between tracks. Sigh. Your music taste has really refined itself since the start of the semester- after craftily finding out which music shuffle app was best by listening in on your desk neighbor's conversation, you'd just been letting the songs play without skipping a single one. You didn't know any of the bands from this world, after all. Folk music between classes, classical in the bath, showtunes walking back from the library... right now, it's an ad. Great. You're about to be thrown to the wolves with a vanilla body spray advertisement as a parting gift.

You shift, drawing your knees to your chest on the chipped toilet seat. There's not exactly a lot of space to sit, but that's to be expected from a room that's only designed for temporary use. Most of the boys that come into the desolate hall bathroom are only here to exchange homework answers and sometimes take swings at the hanging lights with socks full of pebbles. Typical teenage boy things, you supposed. You'd spent a good week testing out different hiding spots around campus before settling on the third-floor east-wing bathroom, the smaller one, tucked between a dusty, vacant trophy shelf, and a closet with a rusted lock. You would've really preferred an empty classroom with a view of the courtyards to tuck yourself away in, like the protagonist of a slice-of-life anime, but all of the ones you found (and there were many) were locked with some stupid magic spell you couldn't undo even if you knew how.

So, smelly bathroom is was. You're sure there must be mold in the vents here- no one actually uses this place to pee, it's too far from the actual classrooms, but there's a pervasive musty smell that never worsens nor improves. You're probably going to start hallucinating and having weird nightmares. Well, more than usual, anyway.

10:30. Your phone dies without warning, drained of all life after you hit 3%. Damn it!!! You were really hoping you had a few more minutes. It wouldn't have done you any good but to take the weight of skipping another class off your mind, which was all you wanted, really.

You just couldn't do it today- again- presentations.

Not yours, mind you. Yours is on Thursday. But today you'd have to sit through an hour of watching your talented, smart, funny classmates rake in laughter and applause for their stupid puns and award-winning smiles and Wikipedia-tier research. Which is not as bad as presenting yourself (you'll probably skip on Thursday, too) but it is torture on par with waterboarding. And after ten minutes of imagining the ceiling tiles falling on your classmate's heads, you got kinda bored.

This is infinitely better. You're failing, but failing in style, right?

Somewhere nearby, a leaky faucet drips.

The last light in the room fizzles out and dies.

Now would have been a good time to have your phone. You're not afraid of the dark! It's just... there are puddles of... liquid... all over, and you can't navigate around them in pitch black. The newer bathrooms on the lower levels all have windows, low and close to the ceiling, hugging the helm of the wall and sucking up all the darkness and bad smells. This room has vents full of mold and... puddles. Not really unlike Ramshackle, but it's not like you're crazy about that, either.

Crap. Now what? You can't even check the time, so you won't be sure when class is over unless you venture outside for a clock. It could be an hour from now, or thirty minutes. How is anyone supposed to live like this?!

Creeeeak... click.

You tense. Maybe not being on your phone is best, especially in a dark room anyone else can see in.

The stall you've locked yourself in is the only one with a working-slash-existent door, the others having been smashed in or melted or taken off their hinges and carried into the night, or whatever else happens at this fucking school. That's all to say, if you were blissfully on your phone when whoever just came in came in, they'd see the blue light and know there was someone on the only usable toilet. Then they'd probably say something like, "Woah, dude, it must be huge!" because you won't leave and you'd be shaking so hard from the nerves that it'd rattle the walls.

Please, don't try the door... don't... this bathroom is disgusting!!!! And MINE!! Go find your own mold poisoning!!! FUCK YOU!!

Your bathroom-mate doesn't seem to get the angry memos your mind is rapidly firing at them (who would've thought?) and the sound of sneakers scuffing the damp tile floor follows. DAMN YOU!!!

There's still a door on the stall, sure, but the lock has been busted since you found it. There's a suspiciously rock-shaped dent where it should be, indicating a teenage boy-related event may have occurred there. You shrink into the furthest corner of the stall, hands against either side as if bracing yourself for the walls to collapse in on you. Don't try the door... it's not worth it, I promise!

Click, swoosh. "EEEEEK!"

You should be the one screaming, if anyone, especially since there's a giant blue gumball blocking your only exit. With the lights going out, the foreboding cracks and creaks, and the stranger in the doorway, you could see this as a corny horror movie... if the slasher wasn't sheet-white and shaking.

You blink. "O-occupied..."

His hair falls over his face in waves, a soft, blue light, not unlike that of your recently deceased phone, glowing around him like a halo. He doesn't look much like an angel otherwise.

He stares at you, processing your half-baked response and the sight of a person sat like a spider in the corner of the toilets.

And then... he glares.

"Get out,"

EXCUSE ME??

"Guh?" is all you can manage.

He frowns. "I-I said, get out. This is my hiding spot,"

No way! Who does this guy think he is?! He's really defending this nasty bathroom stall!?

"...Wh-whuh?"

He swallows thickly. "...C...c'mon... please?"

His arms, firmly at his sides, seem uncomfortably stiff. He clenches and unclenches his fists, clearly not as mean or scary as he's trying to come off as. You narrow your eyes.

"I-I found this spot fair and square!"

"I-I've been coming here to hide since my first year! I found it first!"

He shuffles a step forward and the door swings shut behind him, forcing him a little further. It's not a big stall, so he's practically in your lap.

You blink, and he rolls his eyes, turning his back to you and fidgeting with the lock on the bathroom door.

"It's broken," you say, stupidly. The stranger turns it at an angle and then hits it over its top with a closed fist, the click of the lock following.

You stare. "...Ah-ah..."

He turns to look at you from over his shoulder, and you awkwardly slink away from the toilet to give the grimy porcelain seat to him, which he takes with an exasperated huff, crossing his arms and leaning against the graffiti-etched wall.

You do the same, mimicking his posture, but against the door. He blows a strand of hair out of his face.

"...So... skipping, huh?"

It's still dark in the stall, but the light coming from his hair is enough to make out his features. You wonder if he can do the same for you.

You nod, and then: "O-oh, uh... do you have the time?"

The stranger starts to reach for his pocket, but his hand stills at the last moment, and he rolls up his sleeve to show off a pricey-looking digital watch instead. You can't tell if that was to impress you, or if he just didn't feel comfortable taking out his phone in front of a weirdo he found pressed up against the wall of a toilet.

"It's ten thirty-eight,"

You slump. You were somehow hoping more time had passed since he first spoke to you.

The stranger observes your body language, the sweat beading on your upper lip, the awkward, uncomfortable way you shift against the wall.

"Forgot your homework?" he asks, prodding for answers. He's a lot less anxious than he was when he found you- you must make him feel at ease. There's something both relieving and aggravating about that- what's a bathroom-dweller doing judging you, anyway? He doesn't know you!!!! Maybe you're really popular, and you're meeting a lover here... well, you're not, but he doesn't know that!

"I-I just didn't want to go," you mutter.

He looks at his feet. "Yeah, okay. Me, too,"

Figures. You sniffle, crossing your arms.

"Presentations?"

"Whuh?" he says, eyes darting up to meet yours before swiftly away, back at his feet. "N-no, I just... don't go to class in person often, but the wi-fi is down for maintenance, so I..."

He trails off. A spark of envy ignites in your chest. What's he got to complain about?! You have to go to class in person every day! It's not like anyone's asked you if that's what you want to do, either...

You stifle the flicker of frustration tickling your throat and shift again. "But you're not going?"

"No," he says. "...Can't."

Can't is much heavier of a word than want, and you find yourself envious again, at least of his ability to make you feel bad for him. No one feels bad for you, and yet here you are, giving sympathies to a stranger who's life sounds a hell of a lot easier than yours...

You bite down the bile of insecurity.

"...I... me, too," you say, half-wanting to make him feel more comfortable, half-wanting him to feel bad for you, too. For some reason.

"Can't, I mean."

He nods. "Y-you chose a good hiding place, then... I guess I'm not so opposed to sharing it as long as we're using it for the same thing..."

You'll count that as a win. "Thanks..."

"NP," he says, sitting up straight again and rolling his shoulders with a soft grunt. Bad posture. "I-I didn't realize anyone else was, uh... yeah. I'm... Idia."

He didn't give you much to work with, but you're not asking for much, either. You're really just grateful he didn't kick you out.

You give him your name, in no uncertain terms, and he nods, looking away again. The stall suddenly seems so small, with two people in it... Idia seems like he's realizing this, too, the way he's looking around and bouncing his legs like he wants nothing more than to stretch them out... but there is, of course, nowhere else for you to go.

Unless...

No. Those sorts of things only happen in crummy fanfiction written for hormonal losers, and you're anything but that. Obviously!

Idia lasts all of two minutes before he asks you to move, his voice crackling with a renewed twinge of anxiety. "C-could you...?"

"I don't have anywhere else to go," you say, telling him exactly what you'd been rehearsing in your head, in case he asked.

Idia swallows a rebuttal and turns around himself in the tight space. There really isn't much in the way of comfort, and by the look on his face, he already feels guilty for making you get up. At least there's that!

"D-do you wanna... could you... um, we just have a lot of time left, and..."

You'd been so quick to dismiss any sympathetic, sappy thoughts like that, but he spoke up so easily... maybe he'd been thinking the same thing? But, no, that'd be...

He's just being nice.

Still, you can't say no, even if you really wanted to. You shuffle closer, suddenly feeling very aware (and very afraid) of your own weight, though Idia doesn't seem too concerned. If anything, the terrified look of anticipation that's on his face tells you he's thinking a lot about his own body. You move slowly, both for his and your own benefit, fitting yourself in his lap with a touch of grace you weren't aware you had. Idia stiffens at first contact, but he doesn't seem completely repulsed by you, which is a relief.

"Is this... are you comfortable?"

Something like that, you think. You nod, sat neatly in his lap like a present under a Christmas tree... or maybe more like a lump of coal in a stocking, but he's nice to sit on, and that's all that matters.

A few moments of familiar silence pass before Idia shifts, the sounds of shuffling fabric following, and he pulls out his phone.

Despite the less-than-charming atmosphere, the musty smell of mold, the incessant drip, drip, drip of the tap, the darkness, the looming threat of moving time and the outside world, this is... strangely... nice. He's watching car crash compilations on his phone (the screen lowered, so you can see, too) with his chin on your head, which is actually somewhat uncomfortable, but it's romantic, too. Dreamy, even. Something you'd see in a romcom, if romcoms were written about people like you.

You sit there in silence, quietly contemplating the nature of time, existence, and foreign-language dashcam videos, until you're suddenly... not contemplating anything.

bbbbbbrrrrRRRING!

You jolt, hand flying to your bedside table to slam your stupid alarm off and cram in an extra ten minutes of sleep, just to punch straight into a metal wall. Ow.

Cradling your sore fist, you sit up, eyes adjusting to the desolate darkness of your room. Not... your room, you remind yourself.

bbbbbbrrrrRRRING!

You blink, reaching out in the darkness for the source of the sound and finding only metal, metal, metal... something soft. Fabric. Hoodie, pocket lining, and then, phone! It's not yours, remember- yours died.

You remember that this pocket is attached to a person, who's happily snoozing through the loudest alarm you've ever heard. You contemplate the situation for a moment, and then decide it would be best not to dawdle. And so you hold the phone speaker right up to Idia's ear and let it ring again.

He wakes with a start, his hips snapping up and jostling you in his lap, and he just barely has the mind to grab hold of your waist and keep you upright before you fall onto the bathroom floor. You hold his phone as if it were a sickly swaddled newborn baby, close to your chest.

bbbbbbrrrrRRRING!

Loud, too loud. You hand the phone to Idia and, in his sleepy stupor, he tries to answer his alarm like a call. It'd be entertaining if you hadn't just been woken up from a... nine hour nap.

No, that can't be right. You squint at Idia's digital watch again, reading the screen as he paws at his phone, trying to turn off his alarm.

Almost evening. You slept in a dirty bathroom with a stranger for an entire day... missed all your classes getting mold poisoning.

...Could have been worse.

Besides, it's not every day a human being willingly touches you.

"That's for dinner," Idia mutters, slipping his phone back in his pocket with an exasperated, sleepy sigh. "Gotta set a reminder or I'll forget to eat... I'm, uh... I get busy..."

He doesn't have to explain anything to you, but the fact that he likes you enough to want to look good is pretty nice.

You nod.

"Y-yeah... me, too..." you mutter.

Idia unlocks the stall door with a jab of his elbow and walks you into the hall. It's already dark, and you can't see anything but inky blackness through the tall, imposing windows of the school, and the air is impossibly clear here. You're going to smell like raw sewage and mildew for a month...

Idia sniffles, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes. The events of the day haven't caught up to him yet, it seems. You wonder how he's going to react once he's fully awake.

"Eh, uh..." he starts from behind you, and you turn over your shoulder.

In the moon of early evening, where you can make out more of his face and less of the glowy halo that hides it, he looks more... like himself. You suppose that's a nonsensical thing to think, but his brow is knotted, his eyes turned away, his lower lip caught between his teeth, but all in that stubborn side of him you met first.

"...Same time tomorrow?"

You blink. No... not really, does he mean that?

"Uh..." shit... "I have... potionology, this- that time tomorrow. But Thursday! Th-Thursday I'll definitely be here..."

Idia nods, looking mildly relieved that you didn't turn him down (how could you?)

"Thursday, it is,"

You part in opposite directions (even though your dorm is the way he's going), your feet padding against the stone floor, the-

"W-wait!"

You turn. He's staring at you, wide-eyed.

"W-we don't have to do that in the toilets. You can just come to my room,"

Today marks the third time this week you've missed History of Magic.

You really shouldn't be skipping. It's not like you haven't had every opportunity to succeed, after all; Professor Trein has been extending deadlines since the start of the semester, which, as his syllabus would indicate, is strictly against his classroom rules and expectations. You're a "special case". Always have been.

So, he's not totally heartless, but he is pretty oblivious. It would take a blindfolded fool to not notice the way you cower in the back of the class, avoiding eye contact and praying you don't draw any unwanted attention to yourself. There might've been a point in time where you wanted to be noticed, admired, befriended, loved like your classmates were, in this world and the last, but that fantasy had been long abandoned in the abyssal blackness of your mind. Since September, you've been focusing on one thing, and one thing only: staying out of people's way. If you could survive school at home, then you could here, too... or you'd die trying, which wasn't the worst route.

Not like you had much of a choice either way. You couldn't just ignore the main storyline to focus on sidequests, or you'd never move forward. No matter how daunting that was.

But you could allow yourself breaks, and since Monday, every day had been a sidequest day. As evident by the tiny bandages dotting your skin, you had successfully been abdicated to the infirmary for a full three days worth of classes. Of course, the injuries you littered your skin with weren't that serious- a bruise, a scratch with the end of your quill, a paper cut here and there, "accidentally" stapling the soft flesh of your palm... enough to make you bleed, but not to cause permanent damage. It was the perfect plan. And once you had secured ointment and a colorful bandage from the nurse ghosts, you got to wander the halls until class had concluded. You had quite the reputation for being clumsy, but it was worth it- you'll have to milk this as much as you can before Trein bans you from using the pencil sharpener on a permanent basis.

You drum your fingers on the stall door, the steady rhythm and melodic taps motivating you to turn the textbook page you'd been perusing. Who said you have to go to class to learn, anyway? You can just cram for exams from the comfort of your porcelain throne! You'll pass, easy peasy.

And if not...

...You don't want to think about it. A summer course might not be so bad, since there'd be less people, but you're not even sure if NRC offers those.

And to retake this miserable class next year...

Shudder. You swallow your worries and return to the page on ancient sorcery. Midterms are coming, and the last thing you want to do is make an idiot of yourself by having your low scores posted on the corridor wall.

Or, worse... Trein will read them aloud to the class. You'd seen that in a light novel once, though you're not sure if it happens here. But it might, and that's plenty enough motivation to keep you reading.

Each turn of the page echoes in the impossibly empty bathroom. Besides the drip, drip, drip of a leaky pipe somewhere off to your left, the only sound is your own breath, and the flutter of paper. You could be taking notes, too, but this is plenty enough sound for now. You just have to get a passing grade, after all. You're not aiming for points. Just not to be humiliated when the grades are posted...

You swallow. Your throat is dry and scratchy, no doubt from staying up too late again. But who could blame you? Night is the only time when you actually get to be alone, and you don't have to worry about these... things. No textbooks or tests, no snickering classmates, no whispers and stares, no angry Trein demanding to know how you accidentally slammed your hand in the door... again.

You really hope he doesn't report you to Crowley.

Having a heart-to-heart with the Headmage is truly a fate worse than death... or retaking a class. You try to reassure yourself that Trein wouldn't do that, no one truly suspects that you're hurting yourself on purpose... right? You're just clumsy and accident-prone. There's nothing worth reporting there!!!

But, truthfully, you don't know what's going through the old man's head. Or anyone's. You get teased for your clumsiness, but does anyone really mean it, or are they just saying that because the reality is more uncomfortable than a simple lack of poise? You shudder to think of it, your fingers digging into the pages of the book and crinkling the smooth paper. You can't focus on the paragraph anymore, rereading the same line over, and over, and over...

What could they be thinking? you ponder. Maybe Trein will report you, or he'll think you're playing hooky like some idiot kid and give you detention... maybe he'll make you stay after class to catch up.. oh, the horror...

You swallow the painful lump in your throat, your spit stinging the red rawness all the way down.

Don't be ridiculous, you reason, or try to, at least. Trein teaches hundreds of students. He wouldn't take any interest in someone as insignificant as you...

"Helloooo in there~"

What- FUCK!

Someone is knocking on your stall. You didn't even hear the door opening- who the fuck is it?

"O-occupied," you manage.

"Je sais," the voice says. "You cannot hide all day. Come out, now, I will tell you what you missed!"

Threatening. Overconfident. French. Your stomach drops.

The door opens (how did he unlock that???) and there's Rook Hunt. You shrink as far as you can into the corner of the water closet, sitting on the toilet with your feet on the seat and your hands on either side of the stall, your textbook slipping out of your lap and onto the dirty ground.

"C-can you not see I'm busy?"

"Eh?" he hums, looking down at where you had locked the door. "Ohh... oui, I see. I have been sent as your personal aide to class. You seem to have forgotten again. I will escort you!"

Perhaps you would have had some pity for Rook Hunt, the boy who collects friends like they're novelty bobbleheads but never really makes them, never keeps them, if he were not... Rook Hunt. If he had not spent the last few months justifying his want to follow you around like a hungry hunting dog with the excuse that you were... what did he say?

"Mysterious"

Never in your life did you think you'd one day be hoping for someone to regard you as worthless and leave you be.

But you're pressed here, both physically and metaphorically, and you can't summon the confidence to say "no", and so you do something stupid instead.

Run for it.

You were once taught never to turn your back to predators, like bears and big, rabid dogs. Your tablemate had been reading something from his scout book to his friend in first period. They'll see you as prey, he had said, and then to you, with an evil smile: I bet they would run. They're so afraid of everything.

His friend had scolded him for teasing you and ruining your morning, but you hadn't been planning on enjoying it anyhow.

Stupid, you had thought, you would never be caught dead outside of your room, let alone in the woods. Useless information.

There were no angry bears or hungry lions at Night Raven College. But you did have Rook.

Your tablemate should have learned something fucking useful at his stupid scouts training. Like, for instance, what to do when a tall, scary extrovert takes your running as an invitation to hunt you like an animal.

You're so out of shape. When did that happen? You suppose you can only blame your piss-poor diet of noodle cups and sweets for that. You're winded and worn in two minutes, using the wall as a crutch to support your weight down the hall.

For a fleeting, terrifying moment, you have a very scary thought: I wish someone else were here.

And then it goes away, with your energy, with the feeling in your feet, with whatever was left of your pride, and the air in your lungs.

Shouldn't have run... Stupid, stupid, stupid...

SMACK.

Had there always been a wall there? You can only somewhat register the shooting pain in your skull and the purple bruise forming on your forehead as you fall backwards. It's not graceful; you hit your tailbone on the stone floor and curl in the fetal position.

If anything went right in your pitiful life, this is where you'd die. But it's only an ache behind your eyes and a bruise on your butt, and then Rook Hunt crouching over you like you're his latest kill.

"Zut alors... you have injured yourself yet again!" he trills picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, not even flinching once at the weight.

"You are quite the tricky one, you know! And here I was, thinking that your injuries were all faked... tch, it looks like you are a clumsy one... non?" he smirks knowingly at you, paying little attention to where his feet are going but walking gracefully nonetheless.

You don't respond. This is the most anyone has touched you in... years, probably... and it sucks. It's miserable. And uncomfortable.

"Wh-where are we going?" you manage.

Rook tsks. "Ah, the infirmary, of course. You are in no state to study after that fall!"

Maybe running for it wasn't such a stupid idea, after all...

"And I will stay dutifully by your side, nursing you back to health!"

Never mind.

You wince at his words, a sharp sting of panic shooting down your spine and right into your bruised tailbone, making your butt ache. Ow. "Y-you don't-"

"But of course!" he interrupts before you even get to finish. He knew you were going to object, damn it. "It was my doing, was it not? I should have known better than to spook un petit lapin such as yourself... small, easily-startled creatures should be handled in traps, or at long distances!"

He's talking about shooting you now, which honestly isn't the worst thing you've heard about yourself here. At least he's being honest, rather than saying it behind your back.

You don't even try to fight it. What's the point? Besides, your head really does hurt, and you don't have any access to ice in Ramshackle (as Rook would also go on to remind you).

But you could do without the boy at your sickbed, legs crossed, elbows on his knees and chin in his hand as he studies you like a piece of fine art, or, more likely, an ant under a magnifying glass. He bats his long eyelashes at you as you cautiously eat the soup he had "specially prepared" for your health. There's probably something weird in the warm, swirling broth, but you can't find it within yourself to care. It's good soup, anyway.

"...Are you going to sit there all night?" you weakly ask him, your fingers absently feeling over the thick bandage on your forehead. You'd bled a little, when you hit it.

Rook nods eagerly. "Ah, yes, to study such a rare specimen... of course, I would have preferred to do it in your natural habitat, but under controlled conditions is acceptable..."

Like you're a rat, or something. Well, you've been called worse. You set the lukewarm bowl to the side and sink into the bed. Firm, uncomfortable, just like home. Your dorm, that is.

You're not too keen on being... "observed", or whatever he said, but it's not like you have much of a choice. He wouldn't leave even if you asked him to.

"..." you wring your hands, quiet for a moment. "...Can you at least get more ice, then...?"

"Ah, it would be my honor!" Rook says, shooting up from his seat. You're almost surprised that he doesn't salute you, too.

He does, though, return with a bag of ice, place it by your abandoned bowl, and press a fleeting kiss to your forehead.

It's swift and painless, like being decapitated- and not unlike a headless body, it leaves you silent and stunned. You sit there for a moment longer before Rook presses the ice to your head himself.

"Just as I thought," he says. "I will have to take note of this... ah, how my heart leaps at such an opportunity to study an elusive creature such as yourself! Rest easy, lapine, I have many more trials to conduct!"

[distuff]

Uhm hello

I'm redoing my last ask bc it was wrong.

This is GENERAL for category

I would like to know how the Saja boys would react to a person they were trying to steal a soul from sees what they are doing, and instead of actually fighting, they just bite them like a feral right dog.

Please and thank you, –Valentine.

Ola there readershi !! (*´︶`*)/

No worries, no worries. I'm glad you've read the request post, so arigatou for that!

Also, LMAO !! *wheezes

The imagery!! I lOve it. I would have very happily turned it into a story tbh but oh welp. If ya want a quick look into my thoughts of how the SAJA boiz mind have reacted to that welp:

MYSTERY:

Honestly, he’d just stare at the person, blinking slowly from beneath his fringe, like: What the-

After a long moment, he'd half-heartedly start shaking his arm, as if trying to make a cute, harmless animal let go, and mutter with clear disinterest, “Are you quite done? It’d be rather polite if you let go, Miss/ Mister.”

Regardless, Mystery wouldn't so much as flinch—just looked utterly exhausted. All he wanted was a peaceful dinner. Instead, he'd gotten an undercooked excuse of a meal—one that clung to life like a crab refusing to be properly boiled, dragging out its suffering in the process.

:::

JINU:

This man (coughdemoncough) would yelp.

His eyes would go wide in surprise, and he’d stagger back a step, nearly falling on his arse as if momentarily forgetting that, as a demon, he couldn’t feel pain. He’d stand there, holding his arm out awkwardly, staring at the scene mildly taken aback.

That shock would quickly shift into confusion, followed by mild irritation. His brows would furrow. He’d glance down at the human still latched onto his forearm, teeth sunk firmly into his skin, and give them a long, unimpressed look.

“I thought humans were supposed to have evolved beyond their beastly instincts…” he’d mutter, raising his arm higher while the human remained attached like a particularly stubborn leech.

In all honesty, after the initial surprise, Jinu would just be... amused. Calmly, he’d stared, waiting to see how long it would take for the person’s brain to catch up and realise there was no blood. Only the slow rise of thin, fiery wisps curling up from the bite mark, beginning to lick at their skin.

A cooked human it is, Jinu would think and wait. Not like he would eat them. Jinu has class mind you.

:::

ROMANCE:

He would just straight out screech.

Why? He’d just bathed! Having slathered on his balm, he was clean, radiant and flawless. And now—now this human had the audacity to sink their germ-infested, yellow teeth into his freshly pampered skin?

Who in their right mind wouldn’t be horrified?

So, naturally, Romance did the first thing that came to mind to get rid of the sensation. He flicked his arm—with enough force to send the human flying across the pavement.

And… well.

Oh no. Romance blinked, gaze trailing to the crumpled, unmoving figure on the ground. It was exactly like when you panic at a bug, flick it off by instinct, and then realise too late you’ve killed it. That same awkward, creeping feeling began to rise inside him.

But then he sighed and shrugged. “Oh welp,” he muttered.

Peering down at the body, he would ask aloud, “Gwi-ma, you still want a bit of damaged goods?” He would feel the faintest ripple of amusement flicker at the edge of his mind, along with a subtle thread of judgment.

Ironic, really, coming from the Lord of Demons.

:::

ABBY:

This one would just find it hilarious.

The second the person bit into his arm, Abby would let out a delighted laugh—bright and unbothered, in the way a dog owner would react to a hyperactive pup.

Abby would even grin and begin shaking his arm, as if it were a tug toy the human was playfully trying to wrestle from him.

If the biting hadn't stopped, Abby would start cooing over the person and give their head a few pats, like one might soothe a particularly rowdy pet.

“There, there. It’s all good. Yes, youwe so strong and fierce! Look at you—so strong and cute~”

There is a good chance Abby would end up taking them home after this, and announcing to the others he’d brought home a new pet.

:::

BABY:

If someone dared to bite him, Baby would bite right back.

In his defence, though! Demons often engaged in “playful” brawls. And if one attacked, the other was almost guaranteed to mimic the move.

The problem was, this was a human... And demon teeth were... well, sharp...

...

Like Baby knew there were demons who actually ate humans, but he never quite found satisfaction in that. It seemed like a thing only the older demons did, so that ruled out the option of “eating the evidence.” Besides, Mystery had a particular taste, and Baby wasn’t sure the human was it.

He refused to work harder than necessary. So, burying the problem was out of the question too. And no doubt the soul was now spoiled by Baby’s demonic energy, since he’d quite literally taken a bite out of the human, meaning Gwi-ma would not appreciate either the body or soul.

...

He bit his bottom lip, a low hiss of frustration slipping out. “Shhhiiit...”

...

The sharp ring of a phone broke the evening silence before it connected with a ping. “119, what’s your emergency?”

[sailor-hufflepuff]

@krispyprincessphantom I’m a little confused right now, both because tumblr won’t let me respond to your ask, and because I have NO idea what post you’re referring to - I’m pretty sure it’s not one of mine, as I’ve never made some of the claims you are deriding.

Since I can’t reply, I’m gonna go line by line;

“This person is really being one-dimensional. According to them, the Darkling is 100% good and has never done a single bad thing in his life 🦦”

I literally don’t know a single fan who has EVER said that. Even his biggest fans admit he made mistakes, acted too rashly and violently at times, which worked counter to his goals and ended up hurting him in the long run.

“According to this writer: When the Darkling kills people → "Well, it’s war, duh!"

He is a general. It is war.

“When Alina’s team kills people → "How evil!"

I’ve never seen anyone claim Alina’s team is evil for killing people - only point out that the characters themselves claim moral purity when they have blood on their hands too. The point is the double standard Alina and co hold in their minds regarding which deaths are justified and which are atrocities.

“One issue with people who become fans of villains is that half of them forget that the character they love is, in fact, a villain.”

I’m not actually a villain fan in general. Rather, after decades of consuming stories and participating in fandom, there are a small handful of antagonists that I said “hang on, he’s got a point.”

“Same with Anakin — there’s not a single victim of his that you can justify.”

Dooku comes to mind, but I’m sure that’s not what you mean, since it was an act of war. You’re probably referring to the Jedi younglings and the Sandpeople and such and you’re right. I do not justify the horrible things he did. My interest with Anakin is a whole different ballgame to the Darkling, too long to go into here.

“If you have good intentions but use bad methods to get there, you’re still a villain.”

I agree.

“Being a villain doesn’t mean you have to have horns and a tail.”

I am aware.

“I’d respect these kinds of posts more if they at least admitted that their favorite villain is a villain in the end, and shouldn’t be defended for everything.”

He’s not a villain. He’s an antagonist.

“But no — she talks like a die-hard fangirl who just happens to use pretty words. That’s not it, sis. Or bro. Seriously. Come on — she literally refuses to admit that the Darkling is a villain 😂😔 I don’t think she even knows what the word "villain" means.”

A Villain, according to dictionary.com, is “a cruelly malicious person who is involved in or devoted to wickedness or crime;”

The Darkling may be cruel, but he is not malicious or devoted to wickedness or crime.

“She says, "Aleksander is gray, not evil." Sis, a villain can be gray, too 🤡 What are you even on about?”

Again, I’ve never claimed he’s gray. Honestly, I hate the label of “gray” characters that’s becoming so popular. To me, good is sacrificing yourself for the benefit of others. Evil is harming others to benefit yourself. No one is purely one or the other in the real world, and even in fiction it’s become quite rare.

“Anime is full of morally gray villains who have good goals but commit crimes to achieve them (just like the Darkling). I swear if she watched anime, she’d probably argue that "No look, they’re not villains, they’re actually heroes." 😂 Just imagine people like her watching Naruto — it’s overflowing with these kinds of villains 😂”

I do watch anime, and while there are villains I feel sorry for, I can confidently say there has never been one I believed was actually a hero. Given the thousands of anime that exist, I’m sure there’s at least one where that’s the case, but nothing I’ve come across.

“And then she talks about "media literacy." Real media literacy is understanding that just because a villain has a sad backstory, it doesn’t excuse or justify all the crimes and atrocities they committed.”

Media literacy is a complex discipline that requires multiple skills, analytical thinking, and familiarity with common tropes and their uses and subversions. In some cases it means knowing a villain with a sad story is still a villain.

In some cases it means knowing that someone labeled a villain is not one.

There is no single right interpretation that applies to every single story, that’s the point.

“And I don’t know where she got the idea that shipping Darklina is somehow "feminist" or "woman-centered," because the amount of physical and psychological harm the Darkling inflicts on Alina just because she doesn’t agree with his methods? I literally felt sick reading those chapters — he tortured her so badly.”

Again, I can’t say I’ve ever claimed that shipping Darklina is feminist or woman centered, so you must be talking about someone else.

However, I VERY much argue with the idea that the Darkling tortured Alina because she ‘disagreed with his methods’. She never disagreed with his methods. She heard one person say bad things about him, and immediately ran away and dedicated all of her focus on destroying him, because he was “evil”. All of his actions towards her were an attempt to stop her from causing even more harm.

“Mal was awful, especially in the first two books. He treated Alina worse than an enemy. There’s no defending him, true. But what made the Darkling better? Just the fact that Mal was a jerk?”

The Darkling never once belittled Alina. He never cheated on her, slut shamed her, or told her she wasn’t good enough. He wanted nothing more than to raise her up to his level, to make them true equals, to use their combined powers to save innocent people from being murdered in horrific ways.

“If we’re being truly neutral here — both of them treated Alina like crap. And just because the Darkling is a hot crush or “attractive,” that shouldn’t blind us to all the harm he did to her.”

I cannot begin to explain how little the physical attractiveness of a literary character affects my view of their morality.

“Alina had the right to choose, and for whatever reason, she chose not to follow the Darkling’s path.”

You’re right, she did. And she chose to be selfish and allow people to die because she didn’t want the stress of critical thinking and basic empathy. It was much easier to be a powerless farm wife who let her husband make all her decisions and put her absolute trust in the monarchy.

“I’m not even arguing here whether his way would’ve been better for the Grisha or not — I honestly don’t remember the Grishaverse plot enough to say. What I do remember is that Alina didn’t want to go along with him, and the Darkling tried to force her — through torture and manipulation — to be on his side.”

THIS. This is the crux of your argument.

You don’t remember the plot? How can you say you condemn a character - how can you go into somebody else’s inbox and start a fight - when you can’t be bothered to remember the most important aspect of their life?

Aleksander Morozova has had one single goal for his entire life: to protect the Grisha who were being hunted down and slaughtered because they were born different.

In every other country in the world, Grisha are treated as subhuman. In Kerch they are enslaved. In Shu Han they are taken to labs and experimented on. In Fjerda they are put on religious trial and burned as witches. On the Wandering Isle they are used as human sacrifices in primitive rituals. In Novyi Zem they are sold to whichever country happens to pay the most.

Ravka used to be just as bad. Would still be, if not for the CENTURIES of unending, thankless work and sacrifice of the most hated person in the entire country. Thanks to him, Ravkan Grisha had a place in society (as ornaments and weapons) and some small protections (the Little Palace, keftas) against being murdered in their sleep, though of course they are still sub human and have no rights, cannot own property, cannot marry in the eyes of the law, and are forced to be soldiers for the Tsar until their deaths.

You cannot discuss the Darkling’s character while ignoring the plight of the Grisha any more than you can discuss… Harriet Tubman while ignoring US slavery. It is the core of his being. The reason for his existence. He loved Alina. He wanted her to be his partner and equal, to save their people together. But he was not willing to condemn them to die just for her.

You say he tried to force her to be on his side? He tried to get her to open her eyes and have one SHRED of empathy for the people who are dying every day. People who are not viewed as human beings. A group to which she is a part, even if she vehemently denies and abandons them at every chance she gets.

Was he supposed to just let her cause millions of more deaths because she didn’t want to listen to him?

“So how exactly is this the empowering, woman-centered ship she praises so much? Is this what she calls "respect for women"? Seriously, if you know the author of that post, tell her this: Why are you conveniently ignoring all the ways Aleksander tortured Alina, and then turning around and talking about women’s rights?”

The closest thing Aleksander did to “torturing” Alina was putting the collar on her, which in his mind was essentially putting a nuclear weapon in time out because it was throwing a tantrum.

“Mal hurt Alina emotionally and verbally through his stupid behavior.”

I’d say “manipulative and abusive” rather than merely stupid, but okay.

“Aleksander hurt her both physically and emotionally through his selfishness — he couldn’t accept that she didn’t agree with him.”

Again, accepting that she didn’t agree with him meant ACCEPTING THE INDISCRIMINATE TORTURE AND MURDER OF HIS PEOPLE. Is that what you think he should have done? Just accept genocide?

“They were both toxic.”

As romantic partners? Debatable. As human beings? They are so different as to be beyond comparison.

In summary, I’ve said it before and I will say it again:

I disagree with the narrative choice to make the leader of an oppressed minority fighting to stop the genocide of his people the bad guy.

[sweatinghoneybee]

Heck yeah I've found a good genderbend hiccastrid fanfic!!! I've found this fic and I literally binged read it in a day and just reread the chapters over and over cause like it combines two things that i love which is httyd and genderbend, and since I love it so much I was like "you know what let's make a fanart of it as like a mini celebration of it almost finishing!" Which btw this fic is only one chapter away from completing which I must say the author is MVP for not only finishing the whole thing but also like they update it weekly from start to finish which i must say deserves the applause for the consistency alone! (⁠つ⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)⁠つ

For like the three drawings that i made i just sorta want a drawing of this version of Hiccup in the story (her name is Hilde btw in the story), a drawing of Hilde and Arne (the story’s version of Astrid) in a nutshell of a meme that i just thought fit them so well, and finally the author’s oc in the story who is the mother of Arne here.

Honestly not much to say about the design cause i was just trying to get them as close of a description that i got while reading and i just hope i did it well cause like the characters weren’t described on what they wore so i just hope i did them justice especially with Hilde and Arne cause they’re the main focus in the story, also i hope i drew Toothless good enought cause damnit i’m not good at drawing animals and i’m gonna be so disappointed in myself on not doing him justice (⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠)

First drawing i just wanted to draw Hilde standing menacingly with Toothless tho i want to make a contrast between her and Toothless badassery with her terrible terror friend smiling happily nuzzling to her finger cause i wanted to show how cool Hilde is while also sorta hinting on how caring she is! (The terror’s name is Sharpshot btw in the story) (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Second drawing, honestly just me wanting to draw out Hilde and Arne in that meme cause it just fits them too well with at least the first few chapters of them interacting, tho i think i made Hilde alittle too aggressive but for Arne’s love struckness tho i’m not sure if i’m correct or am i showing not enough of how much this guy fell hard for his girl, also just thought it’d be funny with them in this intense situation but their lighting is romantic as if the world is saying “kiss already!” (⁠｡⁠・⁠/⁠/⁠ε⁠/⁠/⁠・⁠｡⁠)

Third drawing, wanted to draw Ingrid cause she’s the absolute best girl besides Hilde in the background with her motherly unconditional love of her son so i say she deserves to be drawn, and again i just hope i did her justice like in her story (⁠づ⁠｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡⁠)⁠づ

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

If anyone is wondering what i’m talking about this is a fic by Burnt_Ashes that i read on ao3 that i’ll summarize with

“Hiccup and Astrid swapped genders named Hilde and Arne where Hilde is unknowingly folowing in her mother’s footsteps becoming a badass 'crazy' dragon lady and Arne wanted to find her bc of a problem that is going on like in the canon of the first film which hasn’t resolved yet cause the girl was so done which he ended up falling head first to the sea stack cause he has a type which is a girl that can literally just kill him if she wants to”

If any of you are interested pls check out the fic that i linked! Come on and join the fun cause next week the fic will be finishing with the final chapter coming out of this story so hurry up! Pls also give the author some love cause they worked really hard on it cause they literally studied in history major and put all that they have studied in their major for this story which if this isn’t effort than i don’t know what is! So give them lots of love for their hard work kay? ＼⁠(⁠^⁠o⁠^⁠)⁠／

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59395678/chapters/151473307

[alexanderwales]

Anime Review: Uncle From Another World

Sometimes I don't really know why I end up watching stuff. Being on Netflix really raises the odds, I guess.

Uncle From Another World, also known as Isekai Ojisan, features Takafumi, a college student (?) and his uncle, Yōsuke, who has come back from a coma. In the first episode it's revealed that he was actually in another world, and can do magic, which they then use to make Youtube videos and get some money.

The uncle shows off that he can display memories from the other world on a viewer, and from that point on, maybe as much as three-quarters of every episode take place there, as they go through his memories. A childhood friend of Takafumi's shows up, Sumika, and they become both the B-plot and the peanut gallery.

What I found most interesting about the show was the way that the "other world" plot grew less and less gag-oriented as it went on, and at the same time, expanded in scope to take over more and more of the show. I'm not sure that I've ever seen another example of this being done more than in this show: the humor remains more or less the same, and they keep going to the same wells of comedy (uncle being oblivious is the big one), but it's like the whole thing is speedrunning Cerberus Syndrome. It's only thirteen episodes!

But the central conceit of the show is that the uncle is kind of a hopeless otaku loser, completely oblivious to the people around him, and we're viewing his memories from seventeen years ago after he's returned to Earth.

And where do you go from there? When you start to develop these characters and their relationships to each other, but your entire setup denies it? I know where I would go with it, but I have no idea where the manga is going to end up.

The first season worked for me, overall, and did a good job of eating its cake and having it too, mixing the more serious beats with the humor. The first season brings together a lot of plot threads in a way that made it feel like there was a plan all along, which I am fairly confident there wasn't: the collection of gags coalesces and most of the initially-one-of characters are together at last. There's something very "serial fiction" about watching the way it all develops.

And of course it has a lot of the anime fanservice shit that I find really obnoxious, which is not at all saved by the lampshading, but if you're going to watch anime, you kind just shrug and go along with it.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The squad of all time has arrived on scene.

[egophiliac]

I don’t think we’ve ever seen you draw knight of dawn before 🤔 what are your thoughts about him? Or take?

I've drawn him a couple of times, just really little/in the background. but I should draw him more, I love this guy a lot! I have many, many thoughts about him and the way he parallels Silver...and also I think it is extremely funny that his ghost is stuck in a ring. especially considering where that ring has been for the last 16-ish years.

[dandeleon]

urapocere 💙❄️

-> fan mv i based this heavily off of + english translation <-

->my adipocere animation<-

[bataddictedloony]

I done finished it 👍

Yeah so… not as good as the books, not even close. Obviously.

good on it’s own though? I’d say so, yeah.

It’s hard to really review it on its own as someone who loves the books so much, since most of the fun I had watching this was me going !!! at things I recognise from the books. It’s not a very well known book series so any reference I see of it makes my heart beat a lil’ faster. Like I said before, they nail the core of the story pretty dang well: Alek’s and Deryn’s characters, their friendship, the clanker and the darwinism cultures, the war and what it means for everyone, being noble vs protecting your own, etc. The animation is pretty good too, mixing 2D and 3D so the characters can match the technology and the world around them. Deryn and Tesla’s mannerisms especially were very nice. I’m even guessing some mocap was used, the animations were so fluid and human. I also liked the changes they made to save time and keep the pace up. It faltered a bit in the Behemoth act but really picked it back up again in Goliath. It’s definitely understandable how much they cut and changed from Goliath since that book is…. A goliath. Heh. And the changes they made, unlike other adaptations, made Sense. There was no loss of character or story or the message. Hell, even Volger’s lil’ turn-about Made Sense. All we lost was some events from the books. That’s really it, everything else that’s important was kept pretty cleverly.

I do miss the epicness of what I associate with the Leviathan series. Like I said, I associate the music playing in Phantasialand’s Rookburgh and the music from the Golden Compass PS game with the series. Cus I listened to them as I was reading them but I picked them specifically BECAUSE I felt like they fit so well. Rookburgh specifically is MADE for a steampunk background. The heavy clanks and the sound of steam releasing is part of the music and made me feel like I was on a constantly moving airship. The ghibli-esque piano was nice but it also felt pretty superficial. Like there was silence that needed to be filled, so we did what never fails and add smthn soft. Yeah, that’s fine but it’s not “we’re using a whale as an airship to bomb german warships”. I also missed movement on the Leviathan. For a ship that literally cannot be still, it was oddly static. Of course, that’s for budget reasons but I would’ve liked a little bit of swaying to have been added in editing, maybe have a hanging lamp in the bg going back and forth a little. Same with sound design: if I didn’t know better, I would’ve forgotten we were in a steel hanger under the belly of a flying whale. There was also - and I’m pretty pissed about this - scale issues. Like literally. There was a point where midshipman were climbing the side of the Leviathan and they were the same size as the directional engines. Uh, what? No, no, the WHALE is a WHALE. The humans on top of it should be teeny teeensy tiny! Lil’ lil humans! Toiny!

All of these are kinda nitpicks but it’s a genuine issue I think the series had: lack of scale. A whale flying through the skies as an airship to fight war battles, should be in the dictionary under ‘epic’. The series is good, but it’s not Epic. And it Should be. Like imagine Pacific Rim, without that boss soundtrack, without the sound design, and the robot to human scale is just a little off. You’d feel something is missing!

The finale kicked ass though! And every time they released the fletchet bats and the strafing hawks, HO! And Deryn is so funny, I love them so much. And Klopp. And Alek. I love them all so much. And Bovril was so cute. Bovril Plushie When?

So yeah, it’s not blow you socks off fantastic, but it’s pretty entertaining and worth the Saturday. If you’re into the ‘girl dresses as boy cus fucking patriarchy’ trope, steampunk, some kickass worldbuilding and the 1910’s, watch Leviathan on Netflix! (And then read the books afterwards and thank me later.)

okay, netflix, Leviathan is my favourite book series ever, DO NOT FUCK IT UP

[dumbbullet]

Hi folks! If you've paid attention, you probably knew this was coming eventually, as ive hinted at it a few times. Abut a year and a half ago I started working on a project and sharing snippets here and there. I don't know if we'll ever get a music video for any Eden songs, but at the very least, i can offer my own interpretation of what it might look like. Its intentionally left a bit rough in spots, but its also the most ambitious project I've ever undertaken and I'm fucking proud of it. Enjoy! :)

[mimiri22-6]

This has probably been discussed before, but the way Nani was animated in the surfing scene seemed So much more professional compared to David. I've never surfed and haven't watched real surfing probably ever BUT

We see David on the waves first and he has this stutter in the water, a trip to put it. It's So subtle, but the moment Nani took to the waves it was like she Was the waves. Effortless looking, smooth but also Walking on waves, with Power. I noticed that difference and went back to David and I noticed his "trip."

Everything in animation is Deliberate and honestly I think this attests to that. Nani was set to "ride the waves" of her surfing career while David does it as sport, just to catch them when the opening comes. She Lit Up while riding, she worked on that water but she also Loves it like a 2nd skin. I may not surf but when I swim, I swim. I understand that feeling with water, maybe not salt water but water and the waves sometimes nonetheless, the way it just feels like nothing else. A hug, a home, a 2nd skin. The rush of swimming till I'm breathless, seeing what I can do This time in This pool. I had the entire deep end to myself last year at a pool because, for some reason, No One wanted to be in it. Kids adults, teens. The only people with me were my friends because we were antisocial and it was Barren. When I say I couldn't help myself I mean I did Not want to get out for any jumps or want to even hold onto the ledge that long. I full sended myself until we had to leave for food.

It was my Best experience swimming and I imagine Nani has felt that freedom almost every time she's surfed. Maybe one Really good day in the water, but even in slightly crowded pools or a good creek and I feel at home again. And I imagine That's what she feels every time she gets on a board with the intent to catch a wave.

The way she's animated in her body and her face makes me believe she's in her Element in that scene. It's so So well done.

[tianhai03]

to the people who have been going through my dmc tag (and the few who went through my danteleon tag i see you guys 🫵) after the netflix anime dropped, i would like to let you know that 1. i dont want to have anything to do with the netflix anime and 2. i dont post dmc anymore lol sorry about that

[clumsypuppy]

Auggie voice test!!

Voice claim: Elphelt Valentine from Guilty Gear, voiced by Cassandra Morris

[stuck-in-jelly]

Every day I get more and more tempted to actually post my break downs of the myths and legends in the Tales of Xadia book because oh my boy thoughts