#torturing squall

[strayheartless]

Here have some anxiety ridden Squall Leonhart as I have a panic attack on a train platform!

Squall has had anxiety pretty much his entire existence. When he’d first been told that it wasn’t Normal to analyse every detail of his interactions with people his exact response was “must be nice” because he genuinely doesn’t know what that feels like.

His anxiety could possibly be called crippling, but only because it renders him non-verbal sometimes. Most people think he’s just being difficult but the people who love him have come to realise that it’s a strange consequence of his fight or flight reflex that renders him mute.

Meeting Cloud for the first time had kind of been a relief. The man wasn’t Anxious like he was but his reactions guilt and exhaustion were a mirror of Squalls subconscious need to control the syllables caught on his tongue. Cloud understood that sometimes speaking felt like a monumental task and Squall could have cried when the Amman had understood him.

Dealing with Anxiety while in a relationship was interesting. Rinoa had known he was anxious but he’d never told her about the fear of her leaving, or the panic that gripped him when she was annoyed about something and hadn’t told squall it wasn’t about him. It was never her fault that Squall got in his own head, and she always tried to help, but Squall felt trapped in a spiral.

Cloud seemed to have a better handle on Squalls panic. He seemed to predict it so well that when Sora bounced in one afternoon, looked him up and down and then said “do you need anything?” Squall knew Cloud had been teaching people how to recognise his stress.

Cloud holds his hand when he starts to bite his nails. He untangles his fingers from his hair and places a hand on his knee when it bounces. The tiny murmur of “breath lion” followed by a demonstrated breath has saved him so many times

Squall still can’t communicate that he worries Cloud is mad at him but Cloud always seems to be one step ahead of him. “Squall look at me. I am not mad at you. Something happened with a delivery that irritated me, but it’s nothing you have done.” Cloud just knows and it settles a lot in Squall.

Another part of Squalls Anxiety is not knowing where people are or if they are okay. Cloud has had to make serious changes to the way he operates while dating Squall because coming home to the mess he did the first time want an option. During two weeks of worrying Squall had shut down. Now he gets a phone call every night and a text at every delivery stop. It should annoy Cloud, but for some reason for Squall it feels like the bare minimum.

He also worries where Sora is ✨always✨. There is not a single moment of the day where a little voice in the back of Squalls head doesn’t whisper “he’s dead somewhere” and Squall will end up panting over the kitchen sink as he tries to calm down.

It’s not so bad when Sora is with Donald and Goofy. Squall can just flick on the Gummy ship tracker on his computer and see where they are. It’s even better then Sora has the Gummy phone. But when Sora disappears it’s not just Riku and Kairi who are freaking out. Squall doesn’t sleep most nights because of it.

Sora’s disappearance is possibly the worst his anxiety has been since he was 17 and isolated. He doesn’t talk a lot of the time, he barely eats. Cloud spends a lot of time soothing his more harmful habits, while Aerith, yuffie and Tifa all try to make the House as stress free as possible.

He takes up knitting on Aerith’s insistence, and Tifa’s got him learning Zangan meditation techniques to take the edge off. Cid is being very Cid about it and sitting in Squalls office when no one else can. Merlin makes sleeping drafts to knock him out, and even Riku is sitting with him to try and help him process some things.

Squall feels the guilt of that one acutely and tries to avoid the teenager at all costs, but Riku is patient when he tells Squall that helping him helps Riku process some of his own worries too.

In the middle of the night when the anxiety induced night terrors bother him so bad he can’t breath, Cloud will sit up with him and help him through the worst of the trembling; laying him back down and talking him though getting his speech back.

Ahhh okay, still gunna have a wee panic but it feels a bit better now

[emilicorail]

Toxic Seifer and Squall having something wrong and freaky going on

No because what was all that for

???

That's crazy man.

Tf is my ship doing

[dedgirlfailure]

the rain falls so beautifully in the night. like, there's this softness to its rhythm, like it knows the world is asleep, that it's got to be quiet. it's the voice of your grandmother telling you a bedtime story when you are younger and the being alive doesn't hurt; her voice is low and gentle, and there is an odd sense of surety to even as it trembles with age, and you can still hear it, even as sleep pulls you deeper and deeper into the warmth of her embrace. It's hushed, it's fading, but you hear it still.

it's picking up pace now, outside my window. the tide shifts. and now the rain is the rush of a river as it surges through some rocky valley on a chilly afternoon, and even though the air is heavy with the spray of its mist, this is the easiest breathing has ever been. the loudness should hurt, its anger should scare, but it's soothing, so soothing, and you feel you'd be content if it were to rear its noble head and sweep you away with it. carry you off to the big sea, where all rivers bleed. I wonder now, as i write this, if i am speaking of stallions or of rivers or of rain, and if my readers-should they exist-will understand this. i am trusting you to understand this.

ah, it's stopping now, graceful even in its spluttering. a mayfly's heart giving out at last, after beating so earnestly for the time its due. and i find i must agree with poets so much wiser than i, for there really is beauty in this tragedy. How wonderful midnight rain is, existing only to fall.

And there really is no romantic way to word this, but i just missed out on a whole physics class waxing poetic about rain.

[seat-safety-switch]

Quick: what's your favourite colour? Doesn't matter. Capitalism has conspired to eliminate it. Every car now is silver, grey, white, or black. Choice is the enemy of all free people. This improves resale value. Critically, this reduction in choice also reduces the chance that a dealership will end up with a, say, dark-blue(!) car that is totally unsellable except to the mentally ill. We gotta do our part for the dealerships, they're really hurting.

Cars used to have cool colours. For instance, I'm fairly sure that my '78 Volare was brown when it was new. You could also get it in tan, or what Plymouth audaciously called "Augusta green sunfire metallic." Daring stuff, but we had no idea that we were secretly bankrupting them. Back then, cars were ordered on demand, and you'd wait a few weeks before someone in a historically economically disadvantaged area of the USA finished spraying it with paint and put it on a train. No more of that nonsense.

That's why I joined up with a secret band of rebels. We don't want to put a name on our organization, mostly because none of us can agree on what it should be. Our job is to sneak into car dealership lots, and give the cars waiting there a high-quality paint job in extreme wacko colours like "orange" and "red." This, we believe, will eventually bankrupt the dealerships and hasten the fall of our corrupt order.

If that fails for some reason, and we are tortured to death by the politicians who obey those dealerships without question, there is a side benefit. That benefit is that we'll be able to see other cars in a snowstorm even if they forget to turn their headlights on. Is that grey blob over there a car or just another snow squall?

So when you show up to the dealership in the next couple weeks and notice that it suddenly looks a lot more colourful, you can thank us. Maybe just don't look too closely at the quality of the work. We're in a bit of a hurry, and sometimes Tapemaster Theodore doesn't do a really good job masking off the mirrors, handles, tires, and windows, so the paint gets places that it shouldn't. Hey, it's like the 1970s all over again.

[amyzworldds]

Title: Solo Adventure

Masterlist

After a New York mishap, Seungcheol punishes Seventeen's maknae yn with a 7 PM curfew and two months of dorm-cleaning alongside Dino, Vernon, and Seungkwan. A month in, boredom drives yn to sneak out at midnight for ice cream. Pairing: Seventeen x 14th member Genre: Fluff, Humor Timeline: 2017

It had been a month since the New York disaster, and Seungcheol wasn’t messing around anymore. The two-month dorm-cleaning punishment was in full swing—Yn, Dino, Vernon, and Seungkwan were still scrubbing floors and wrestling with laundry piles—but the leader had zeroed in on the real troublemaker: YN. The boys? They were just her reluctant sidekicks, dragged along out of worry or sheer inability to say no. So, Seungcheol grounded her—and her alone—with a curfew tighter than a drum.

“7 PM, YN,” he’d declared, arms crossed like a stern dad. “You don’t leave the dorm after that unless it’s for work, with a member, or a family member’s dragging you out. That’s your punishment.”

Her parents, who’d known Seungcheol since yn was a squalling baby, were fully on board. Over a crackly phone call from their vacation abroad, her mom had chimed in, “Make it 6 PM, Seungcheol-ah! She’s been stressing us out since she could walk. Teach her a lesson!” Her dad had just laughed in the background, muttering, “Good luck, kid.”

The members tried to keep her entertained—board games, impromptu dance-offs, even letting her direct a ridiculous dorm “movie” where Hoshi played a tiger and Mingyu was a damsel in distress. “We’re not letting you sneak out again,” Joshua had said, tossing her a controller for a video game. “You’re a menace when you’re bored.”

But yn? Boredom was her kryptonite. She could handle the cleaning—grumbling through it with dramatic flair, like when she’d “accidentally” dumped a bucket of soapy water on Vernon’s head—but the curfew? The isolation? It was torture. Seungcheol even banned late nights, insisting she sleep by 11 PM. “You stay up late, you get wild ideas,” he’d said, eyeing her like she might tunnel out with a spoon.

For a month, she’d sulked, stomping around the dorm, ignoring Seungcheol’s every command with the petulance of a grounded teenager. “Two months of cleaning for all of us, but I’m the only one locked up like a criminal?!” she’d whined to anyone who’d listen. “This is unfair! Dino was there! Vernon too! Seungkwan’s got lungs—why not ground him for screaming Coups’ name in New York?!”

“Because you’re the mastermind,” Jeonghan had teased, flicking her forehead. “They’re just your minions.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

One fateful night, a month into her sentence, it all came to a head. It was a rare day off, and with her parents out of the country, yn had been cooped up in the dorm all day. No schedules, no outings, just her and the four walls of her room. She felt like a caged lion—or maybe a hyperactive hamster, pacing and plotting. By midnight, she was sprawled on her bed, wide awake, staring at the ceiling with a scowl that could curdle milk.

“This is prison,” she muttered, kicking her blankets off dramatically. “A death sentence! I’m 18, not 80! My feet are itching—they’re screaming to run free!” She flopped onto her stomach, burying her face in her pillow and fake-sobbing loud enough to wake the dead—except no one came running, because the dorm was silent, everyone else blissfully asleep.

She sat up, eyes glinting with rebellion. “That’s it. I’m done. Curfew? Psh. Grounding? Overrated. I’m sneaking out—solo mission!” She grinned, the thrill of defiance bubbling up like soda in a shaken can. “Let’s see what chaos I can stir up tonight.”

Tiptoeing out of her room, she moved like a ninja—or at least, her version of one, which involved a lot of exaggerated crouching and humming spy music under her breath. “Duh-nuh-nuh-nuh, secret agent yn, on the case!” she whispered, nearly tripping over a stray sock in the hallway. The dorm was a snoring symphony—Hoshi’s wheezy snorts, Mingyu’s deep rumbles, and Seungcheol’s occasional grumble about “schedules” in his sleep.

She crept to Dino and Vernon’s room, peeking through the cracked door. Dino was sprawled across his bunk, one leg dangling off, snoring like a chainsaw. Vernon was curled up in a ball, muttering something about “pizza” in his dreams. “Useless,” yn huffed. “They’re out cold. No backup tonight.”

Seungkwan’s room was a no-go—he bunked with Seungcheol, and waking him was a death wish. “Guess it’s just me and the night,” she said, rubbing her hands together like a cartoon villain. “Perfect. I thrive in chaos.”

She grabbed her hoodie—bright yellow, because stealth wasn’t her forte—and slipped on her sneakers, already buzzing with excitement. The anxiety of sneaking out alone? To her, it was a rollercoaster thrill. “What’s the worst that could happen?” she mused, easing the dorm door open with a creak that made her freeze. No one stirred. “Ha! I’m a genius.”

Out in the cool Seoul night, yn practically skipped down the street, her grin stretching ear to ear. “Freedom!” she whisper-shouted, twirling under a streetlight like she’d escaped Alcatraz. She had no plan—just pure, unfiltered yn energy. Maybe she’d hit a 24-hour convenience store for snacks. Maybe she’d find a park and swing until dawn. Or maybe she’d just wander and see what trouble found her first.

Back at the dorm, the clock ticked past 2 AM, and the silence held—until Seungcheol rolled over in his sleep, mumbling, “YN, don’t you dare…” His leader instincts were tingling, but he didn’t wake.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Yn was in her element, strolling through the quiet Seoul streets at 2:30 AM, a cheap convenience store ice cream cone in one hand and a bag of chips dangling from the other. Her yellow hoodie glowed under the streetlights, and she was belting out a goofy rendition of Seventeen’s latest song, swapping lyrics for nonsense. “Oh, I’m a pretty troublemaker, yeah, sneaking out ‘cause I’m the best—ooh, ice cream, don’t melt on me!” She twirled, nearly dropping her cone, then caught it with a triumphant, “Ha! Skills!”

Her solo rebellion was going swimmingly—no grumpy managers, no snoring members, just her and the night. She licked her ice cream, humming happily, when a soft whisper cut through the air. “Yn? Is that… yn?”

She froze mid-lick, turning to see five girls huddled near a bench, eyes wide and hands clasped like they’d just spotted a unicorn. “Oh my gosh, it is her!” one whispered, barely containing a squeal.

Yn’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Hey, cuties!” she chirped, bounding over with her trademark grin. “What’s up? You guys carats?”

The girls nodded frantically, too starstruck to speak at first. “Can… can we get a picture?” one finally stammered, holding up her polariod with shaky hands.

“Totally!” Yn said, striking a goofy pose with her ice cream. “But listen—don’t post it, okay? Coups oppa grounded me, and if he finds out I’m out here, I’m toast. Like, ‘cleaning-the-dorm-for-eternity’ toast.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “He’s got me on lockdown ‘til 7 PM unless I’ve got a babysitter. Can you keep it a secret?”

The fans giggled, nodding like bobbleheads. “We won’t tell! Promise!” one said, snapping a quick photo of yn mid-wink, ice cream dripping onto her sleeve.

“Sweet! You guys are the best,” Yn said, wiping her sleeve on her hoodie without a care. “Hey, wanna walk with me? I’ll buy you ice cream if you’re down—just no posting, deal?”

“Deal!” they chorused, falling into step beside her like a little entourage. Yn led them back to the 24-hour convenience store, her energy infectious as she waved her melting cone like a conductor’s baton.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Inside the store, yn played ice cream fairy, grabbing cones for everyone—strawberry for one, chocolate for another, and a weird green tea flavor for the boldest fan. “This one’s either amazing or tastes like grass,” she warned, handing it over with a laugh. They plopped onto a bench outside, and yn launched into full yap mode, regaling them with dorm tales—carefully curated for maximum fun, minimum privacy invasion.

“So, Coups oppa is, like, the worst,” she said, waving her cone for emphasis. “He’s got me grounded because of this whole New York thing—long story, don’t ask—but why am I the only one suffering? Dino was there too! And get this—Woozi keeps stealing my cola stash. I’ll hide it under my bed, and he’s like a bloodhound, sniffing it out! Then he’s all, ‘Oh, YN, didn’t see your name on it,’ while chugging it in my face!”

The fans laughed, hanging on her every word. “And the cleaning!” she groaned, flopping back on the bench dramatically. “Two months of scrubbing because of one tiny sneak-out! Mingyu keeps ‘accidentally’ leaving his sweaty gym socks everywhere, and Hoshi’s like, ‘Yn, you missed a spot!’ while he’s eating chips on the couch I just vacuumed!”

One fan, clutching her strawberry cone, giggled. “Sounds like they’re torturing you!”

“They are!” yn wailed, then grinned. “But I’m sneaky. See? Here I am, free as a bird, eating ice cream with you angels. Coups oppa can’t stop me!”

The clock ticked toward 3 AM, and YN showed no signs of slowing down. She was mid-story—“So then Jeonghan oppa pretended he lost his phone just to make me search the dorm, and it was in his pocket the whole time!”—when one fan’s phone buzzed loudly. The girl’s face paled as she answered. “Mom? Uh… I’m just out with friends… I’ll be home soon!”

The call ended, and the fans exchanged guilty looks. “Yn, we’ve gotta go,” one said hesitantly. “It’s super late, and our parents are freaking out.”

Yn pouted, her ice cream now a sticky puddle in her hand. “Aw, already? But I was just getting to the part where Seungkwan screamed so loud he woke the whole dorm!” She sighed, then perked up. “Okay, fine. You guys head home—but promise you’ll keep this on the down-low, yeah?”

“Promise!” they said, beaming. “Take care, YN! We’ll support Seventeen forever!”

“And tell Coups oppa to chill!” one added, giggling as they waved goodbye.

“Ha! Fat chance,” Yn called after them, watching them disappear into the night. She sat back, finishing her chips with a satisfied crunch. “Best fans ever. This is why I sneak out—freedom and friends!”

--------------------------------------------------------------

By the time yn tiptoed back into the dorm, it was pushing 3:30 AM. She kicked off her sneakers, tossed her hoodie onto a chair, and flopped onto her bed, still buzzing from her adventure. “Mission success,” she mumbled, pulling the covers up with a smug grin. “Coups oppa who? Grounding what?” She was out cold in seconds, dreaming of ice cream and adoring fans.

Morning came, and the dorm hummed with its usual chaos—Hoshi banging pots in the kitchen, Mingyu yelling about missing socks, Seungcheol barking orders. Yn strolled out of her room, yawning like nothing had happened, her secret triumph tucked safely away. Seungcheol eyed her suspiciously over his coffee. “You’re awfully chipper for someone who’s grounded.”

“Just happy to be alive, oppa!” she chirped, dodging his gaze to grab a juice box. “Cleaning duty’s got me in high spirits!”

“Uh-huh,” he muttered, but let it slide. Vernon shuffled by, squinting at her. “You look… rested.”

“Sleep’s my superpower,” she said, winking. Dino just groaned, lugging a laundry basket past her. “Why am I still suffering and you’re all perky?”

“Positive vibes, Dino-yah!” she sang, skipping off to avoid further questions.

The fans kept their word—no photos surfaced, no whispers spread. Twitter stayed blissfully quiet, and Seungcheol’s spidey senses didn’t ping. Yn had pulled off the perfect midnight sneak-out: no evidence, no fallout, just a night of ice cream, laughter, and a little rebellion to keep her sane.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Next day, fan meeting was in full swing, a buzzing sea of Carats clutching albums and grinning ear to ear as Seventeen signed away. YN sat smack in the middle, flanked by Seungcheol on her left and Jun on her right, her energy dialed up to eleven. She was in her element—winking at fans, doodling little hearts on their albums, and tossing out playful banter like confetti.

“Yn, you’re my favorite troublemaker!” one fan gushed, sliding her album over.

“Aw, thanks! I try,” Yn chirped, scribbling her signature with a flourish and adding a tiny bunny sketch. She handed it back with a grin, oblivious to the storm brewing just a few fans down the line.

Next up was a girl with a sweet smile, her eyes twinkling with something yn couldn’t quite place. “Hi, yn,” she whispered, leaning in close. “I’m one of the girls you bought ice cream for at 3 AM.”

Yn’s pen froze mid-heart. Her eyes ballooned, darting to Seungcheol and Jun, who were busy charming their own fans—Seungcheol nodding at a question about his favorite food, Jun doodling a cat on someone’s album. She snapped her gaze back to the girl, pressing a finger to her lips with a frantic “Shhh!” before plastering on a grin. “Hey, good to see you too!” she said, a little too loudly, signing the album with a shaky hand.

The girl giggled, then slid a polaroid across the table. “Can you sign this too? It’s us from that night!” It was a goofy shot—yn in her yellow hoodie, ice cream dripping down her wrist, flanked by five girls striking silly poses with their own cones. The date and time were stamped in the corner: two days ago, 3:12 AM.

Yn’s brain short-circuited. It’s fine, it’s fine, she won’t show anyone, she told herself, forcing a laugh. “Love this pic! Our little secret, right?” She scrawled her signature across it, adding a winking emoji, then handed it back with a conspiratorial wink. The girl nodded, tucking it into her album, and moved down the line, blissfully happy.

The girl reached Seungcheol next, still beaming. “Hi, Coups! You’re so cool!” she said, sliding her album over. He smiled warmly, chatting about the tour as he signed with his usual neat precision. But as he flipped the album closed, the polaroid slipped out, fluttering to the table unnoticed. The girl didn’t see it, too busy gushing about his leadership skills, and Seungcheol didn’t either, handing the album back with a “Take care!”

The signing wrapped up, and the members shifted gears—fans settled into their seats, and the stage turned into a playground. Hoshi pranced around in a tiger onesie a fan had gifted, Mingyu tried on a pair of oversized sunglasses, and yn was busy tormenting Woozi, belting an off-key version of “Adore U” right in his ear. “Woozi-yah, love meeee!” she warbled, dodging his swat with a cackle.

Jun, meanwhile, lounged at the table, sipping an iced coffee and fiddling with a plush cat toy. “This is cute,” he mumbled, squeezing its paw—until his eyes caught something under the pile of gifts. A Polaroid, half-buried under a scarf. He tugged it free, squinting at the image, and his jaw dropped.

“Yo, what?!” he yelped, holding it up to the light. There was yn, grinning like a fool with ice cream smeared on her face, surrounded by five girls mid-laugh. The date glared back at him: two days ago, 3:12 AM. “No way. No way!”

Yn, still oblivious, was now trying to drape a flower crown on Woozi’s head. “Hold still, you grumpy gremlin!” she laughed, completely missing Jun’s growing grin.

Jun grabbed his mic, voice booming across the venue. “Hey, carats! Who’s this in the picture?!” He waved the Polaroid like a flag, then turned to Seungcheol with a devilish smirk. “Coups, come look at this!”

The fans erupted in curious cheers, craning their necks. Seungcheol, mid-conversation with Joshua about a fan-made banner, frowned and ambled over. “What’s so funny, Jun?”

Yn’s head whipped around, and when she saw the polaroid in Jun’s hand, her eyes ballooned to saucer size. “Oh no,” she whispered, dropping the flower crown. She bolted across the stage, arms flailing. “JUN, GIVE ME THAT!”

But Seungcheol was faster. He snatched it from Jun’s hand, holding it out of her reach as she leapt like a frantic cat. “What’s this, huh?” he said, scanning the photo. His smile froze as he clocked the date—two days ago, 3:12 AM. His gaze slid to yn, who skidded to a stop, hands clasped in a desperate plea.

“Coups oppa, it’s not what it looks like!” she squeaked, her voice hitting a pitch only dogs could hear.

“Not what it looks like?!” Seungcheol roared, holding the Polaroid up for the members to see. “This is you, two nights ago, at 3 AM, with ice cream and fans! You’re grounded, yn! 7 PM curfew! What part of that didn’t stick?!”

The fans gasped, then giggled, the girl from the signing sinking low in her seat. “I didn’t mean to!” she whispered to her friend, mortified. “It just fell out!”

Jun was doubled over, laughing so hard he nearly dropped his coffee. “She’s unstoppable! Grounded and still sneaking out for ice cream? Legend!”

Yn lunged again, but Seungcheol sidestepped, waving the photo like a prosecutor with evidence. “You’re dead, kid. Dead! What’s your excuse this time?”

“I was bored!” Yn wailed, flopping dramatically onto the stage. “You locked me up like a prisoner! I needed air! Ice cream! Freedom! And those fans were so nice—they didn’t post it, see? No harm done!”

“No harm?!” Seungcheol barked, though a tiny smirk tugged at his lips. “You’re lucky they didn’t, or we’d be trending again—‘Seventeen’s Maknae Escapes Jail for Ice Cream!’”

The members piled on—Hoshi howling, “She’s a ninja!” while Vernon muttered, “I knew she’d crack eventually,” and Seungkwan clutched Dino, whining, “Why am I not surprised?” Woozi just sighed, finally free of her singing, and deadpanned, “Can we trade her for a quieter maknae?”

The fans cheered, loving the chaos, as yn scrambled to her feet, pointing at Jun. “This is your fault! Why’d you pick it up?!”

Jun grinned, tossing the cat toy at her. “Because it’s hilarious! You’re a walking disaster, and I live for it!”

Seungcheol shook his head, tucking the Polaroid. “This is evidence. And your grounding? Extended. 6 PM curfew now, thanks to your parents’ brilliant suggestion. And don’t even think about sneaking out again—I’m putting bells on your door.”

“Bells?!” YN gasped, clutching her chest like she’d been shot. “That’s inhumane! I’m not a cat!”

Seungcheol stood center stage, the incriminating photo still in his hand, his leader glare dialed up to maximum. The members were scattered around him��Jun still snickering, Woozi nursing a headache, and yn sprawled dramatically on the floor, fake-crying about her extended curfew. The fans buzzed with excitement, loving every second of the chaos.

Seungcheol raised the mic, his voice cutting through the chatter. “Okay, whose Polaroid is this? Who’s the mastermind behind this evidence?”

A timid hand shot up from the crowd. It was the girl from the signing, her face a mix of guilt and glee. “Uh… me?” she squeaked, sinking lower in her seat as every eye turned to her.

Seungcheol sighed, marching to the edge of the stage and hopping down to her row. “Here,” he said, handing the Polaroid back with a stern look. “Keep it safe this time—and maybe don’t let it fall into the wrong hands, yeah?” He flashed a quick smile, softening the edge just enough to make her blush, then climbed back up, mic in hand.

The girl clutched the photo, whispering to her friend, “He’s so cool even when he’s mad!” The crowd cooed, and Seungcheol shook his head, turning his attention to the fans at large.

“Alright, listen up, Carats,” he said, pacing like a disappointed dad. “You’re all amazing, but some of you? You’re part of yn’s trouble squad now! I know she’s a handful—” he shot a glare at yn, who stuck her tongue out—“but if she sneaks out again and you run into her at 3 AM, tell me. Send me a text, a carrier pigeon, whatever! I need to know what she’s up to!”

The fans giggled, and one brave soul shouted, “What’s your number, oppa?!”

He smirked, wagging a finger. “Nice try, but no. Seriously, though—what did she do that night to keep you all so quiet? Spill it!”

The girl with the Polaroid piped up, voice shaky but proud. “She bought us ice cream and told us funny stories about you guys! She said Woozi steals her cola and Hoshi tortures her with cleaning!”

Woozi groaned from his seat, muttering, “It’s not stealing if it’s in the fridge,” while Hoshi cackled, “She’s just mad I’m a better tiger than her!”

Seungcheol’s eyes narrowed at the crowd. “Ice cream at 3 AM? And you all just went along with it? How old are you guys—teens, right? What were you doing out that late? Don’t your parents worry?!”

The fans squirmed, some laughing nervously. “We were just… hanging out!” one called, earning a chorus of agreement.

“Hanging out’ at 3 AM?!” Seungcheol barked, throwing his hands up. “You’re as bad as her! Next time, go home and sleep—don’t let yn rope you into her chaos!”

Yn popped up from the floor, grabbing her mic with a grin. “Oh, come on, Appa Coups! You’re stricter than my real dad! These Carats are my heroes—they kept me company while you had me locked up like Rapunzel!”

The crowd erupted in laughter, chanting “Appa Coups! Appa Coups!” Seungcheol’s face twitched, caught between annoyance and amusement. “Appa, huh? You wanna talk parents? Your mom and dad text me every week thanking me for dealing with you! ‘Seungcheol-ah, you’re a saint,’ they say. ‘We’re so sorry she’s your problem now!’”

Yn gasped, clutching her chest. “Lies! They love me! You’re just mad because I’m aging you faster than a bad dye job! Look at those stress lines—because of me, you’re gonna be gray by 25!”

Seungcheol smirked, leaning into the mic. “Oh, I’m way past that. Thanks to you, I don’t even want kids anymore! One yn is enough—I’d rather adopt a rock. Less trouble!”

The fans roared, and yn flopped back onto the stage, wailing, “I’m a blessing, not a curse! Tell him, carats!” The crowd cheered wildly, waving their lightsticks in solidarity.

Dino, who’d been quietly basking in the chaos-free zone, grabbed his mic with a grin brighter than the stage lights. “Wait, wait, wait—can I just say something? For the first time since I met yn, I’m safe! She didn’t drag me into this one! I slept through it like a normal person!”

The fans cooed, and Seungkwan jumped in, mic in hand. “Same! I was snoring with Coups hyung—no alley chases, no dumpster dives! I’m free!”

Vernon nodded sagely, sipping a water bottle. “First time in years I didn’t wake up to her plotting. It’s a miracle.”

Dino spun to the crowd, eyes gleaming with fan-service energy. “You don’t get it, Carats—she’s a manipulator! Every time, it’s the same! ‘Dino-yah, it’ll be quick,’ she says. ‘Just a snack run!’ Next thing I know, we’re lost in New York, hiding from fans, and I’m cleaning toilets for two months! She’s got those puppy eyes—‘Please, Dino, I’ll die without you!’—and I fall for it every time!”

Yn sat up, pointing at him. “Excuse you, I don’t manipulate! I inspire! You love my adventures—admit it!”

“Love?!” Dino yelped, clutching his hair. “I loved sleeping last night! That’s the real win! You should’ve seen her in New York—‘Dino, let’s sneak out, it’s fine!’—and then we’re running from a mob, and I’m praying to survive!”

Seungkwan nodded furiously. “She’s a menace! That night in New York, I screamed so loud I woke myself up, and she’s just laughing like it’s a game! I’m still traumatized!”

Vernon smirked, leaning into his mic. “She’s like a chaos magnet. I only went because I didn’t wanna be the guy who let her die. Now I’m just glad I’m not grounded too.”

The fans were in stitches, shouting “Poor Dino!” and “Save Vernon!” while yn pouted, crossing her arms. “You’re all so dramatic! I’m the victim here—grounded, belled like a cat, and now betrayed by my own maknae line!”

Seungcheol stepped forward, waving the crowd down. “Alright, enough—here’s the deal, Carats. You’re my spies now. If yn sneaks out again, you tell me. I’ll give you a signed album or something—just keep her in line, because clearly I can’t!”

The fans cheered, and one yelled, “We’ll protect you, Appa Coups!” He flashed a thumbs-up, then turned to yn with a mock glare. “And you—6 PM curfew starts tonight. Try me again, and I’m chaining you to the dorm.”

Yn flopped back, kicking her legs like a toddler. “This is oppression! Carats, save me from Appa Coups!” The crowd laughed, chanting her name, and she popped up to blow them kisses. “I love you all—even if you’re snitches now!”

Jun, still giggling, tossed the cat toy at her. “You’re never beating the troublemaker title, yn. Own it!”

Dino leaned into Seungkwan, whispering loud enough for the mic to catch, “Finally, I’m not the fall guy. I might cry.”

“Cry later,” Seungkwan shot back, “we’ve still got laundry duty because of her last stunt!”

The fan meeting rolled on, the members diving back into gift-opening and fan games, but the air buzzed with yn’s latest legend. Seungcheol kept one eye on her, the polaroid incident filed away as ammo for future lectures. The fans, now honorary S.Coups spies, adored their chaotic maknae even more—and yn? She was already plotting how to sneak past her new 6 PM jail sentence, because no amount of scolding could dim her wild spark.

[achromatophoric]

Pre-Wenclair. At the end of an argument between a certain pair of roommates in their shared room.

Enid: *snarls* Careful, Wednesday. Keep it up and I’m gonna take you to the happiest place on earth.

Wednesday: *watches Enid leave, slamming the door on her way out*

Thing: *questioning gesture*

Wednesday: I am… uncertain. I see two possible interpretations.

Wednesday: Either she is vexed and has thus threatened me with a capitalist wasteland rife with squalling adolescents and infantilized adults desperate to recapture the ignorant innocence of their squandered youths—

Wednesday: —or she is pleased with my behavior and, in a demonstration of positive reinforcement, offered me incentive in the form of a vague yet portentous euphemism.

Thing: *gestures again*

Wednesday: Obviously I stay the course. Either option leads to a flavor of torture, and as long as she is the one who delivers it…

Wednesday: *stares in the direction Enid left*

Thing: ☝️

Wednesday: *looks to Thing*

Thing: 🫵 -> 🫰-> 👉

Wednesday:

– Moments later, down in the Quad. –

Bianca: 🙂🥗

*falling noise*

Bianca: 🤨🥗

*plop!*

Bianca: *stares into her ruined salad at—*

Thing: 👋

Bianca: 😐🥗 ➰ 🫳

Bianca: 🤬🥗 〰️ 🫳

[reinedeslys-central]

kotlc things that I keep thinking about that are never really addressed by canon

there is a complete replica of sophie's bedroom and perhaps countless other rooms just. somewhere in a building in mysterium that the councillors just know about.

alden and other telepaths were instructed to monitor the citizens' minds for signs of dissent around the time the prentice thing was going down

they regularly torture prisoners and dissenters into literal insanity that they can't come back from

they also have a super weird prison only accessible by quicksand (????) to house said prisoners

there is an ENTIRE DUNGEON OF WEIRD LAB EXPERIMENTS DOWN BY THE VACKER HOUSE?

okay. how - how big is havenfield?

the entire thing with - is their name twix? the person dex was working with for something. why do we not get to see that more. why is dex the criminally underrated goated character and WE DON'T GET FLESHED OUT CHARACTER ARCS FOR EVERYONE

linh flooded. atlantis. linh song FLOODED ATLANTIS hello what do people think about that?????????? do they see her on the street and whisper? what's up with "The Girl Of Many Floods"? Where else did she flood?

What is up with the song family (tong? their name changed after their grandmother or smth got famous with their music right?) that both their children not only have two very powerful elemental abilities, but are also crazy skilled with said Talents.

why are music, art, and culture not a bigger thing? like yeah, plot, obviously, but that's just worldbuilding!!! I wanna see!!!! art hanging on the walls! Defying gravity! more sculptures! more music playing in the shopping centres!! If they have imparters why don't they have long distance radio? are there mandatory dance lessons? what's the etiquette like besides what we already know?

more animal husbandry at schools. speaking of schools: we KNOW foxfire and exilium aren't the only schools. are smaller schools more specialised? are their community colleges or academies dedicated to specific career paths? universities?

okay but the polyglot ability is SO COOL???? tell me about the archaic variants of the enlightened language. there's no way that's just the elves' one language and the other species picked it up due to their 'superiority' or wtv. the goblins have cities of gold and metal and the trolls age backwards, you're not convincing me of anything.

secret societies in the other species. that has to exist right?

.....is squall dex's mom or not? I genuinely can't remember.

anyway remember when she froze gethen's fingernails off, yeah that happened (I think)

so instead of rehabilitating teenagers who have dangerous abilities and not much control over their powers, we just do....whatever the council did with gethen, ruy, and linh ig

hey, um...are we just not going to talk about dex casually HACKING INTO A GOV DATABASE WITH SOME RANDOM BITS OF ROCK AND TWINE? he can just do that. okay. okay. that's - yeah, okay.

did he match a frequency or something? how does the signal network even work in kotlc when everyone is technically all over the world in unplottable locations and they get around by LIGHT LEAPING???

ON THAT NOTE. light leaping. yeah haha funny let's just teach our kids to casually break down their very particles and hold onto their consciousness to travel at the speed of light using quantum mechanics and crystals that are specifically cut to project light in such a way that'll take you only to a specific location nvm im not thinking more about it.

flickering? is apparently a skill you can learn even if you're not a vanisher? remember in book two when fitz got prissy at sophie for knowing how to do it apparently b4 we figured out that she's a teleporter

keefe is a fun loveable goofball and I've always been on the sokeefe train but now the more I think about it he's really um.... yeah, uh, sophie? darling, please just don't date any of these people. obv you can make your own decisions but at least not now, okay. take care of yourself hon

the fitz hate is kinda weird ngl. wdym you don't want your problematic traitor brother to move back in to living literally with your family after supposedly losing his memories and that's a bad thing? wdym your close friend/crush is hiding things from you when yall are supposed to be cognates and she's kinda gaslighting you since, forever? wdym your father's been shadily telling you to stalk this girl in the human world since you were a kid? yeah definitely he does pull some weird stints throughout the series. but the bigger things i see ppl hating on him for are. hmmmmm

the council themselves choose to lock away the government secrets and wipe them from their memories. hey, um - recordkeeping is great, obvious, but - wiping those secrets from your minds isn't gonna help you lead while accounting for those parts of history, is it? nevermind how dangerous it is when there are huge species-wide secrets that NO ONE remembers. society-threatening incident waiting to happen.

the concept of vociferators. that's just kinda funny lol even if it is weird

are their schoold for diff abilities?

what's the genetics of talent inheritance? why are 'stronger' abilities rarer? In my opinion, p much every talent is goated, I don't see why more characters aren't more creative about it.

banning talents is just a bad move. like. are you serious? how is that going to make it better? that's how you get brant. brant was a pyrokinetic, without getting into the primary issue of the whole talentless/talented discrimination discourse, the secondary issue is he wouldve been able to marry jolie as two talented elves. would he have cracked if his ability was just a bit better handled by society?

grady is a mesmer. how - that's a really powerful ability???? how do you even train to use that? what do you even use it for?

same with whatever that lady councillor is that tried to seduce alden during his own wedding. fun times, yall.

rainbow fire??? cool????

so we have the sanctuary, do we also have a gigantic library of alexandria-esque thing? a botanical garden?

according to jolie's wiki she died at twenty as a level 8 at foxfire. so... hang on a minute. okay, sure, numerically that could make sense since sophie, at 12, became a level one - but are you telling me she went through the whole matchmaking process and was planning to get married that young????

hey, here's an idea - in a relatively stable society where economy is great, trust funds exist, people work to have something to do with their lives, birth rate is generally low (now through prejudice as well as societal comfort and ease/cost of living), why are they marrying so young? WHY ARE THE KIDS STARTING THE MATCHMAKING PROCESS IN THEIR TEENS???? the elven society has p much every mark of a stage 5 developed country? help? middle-high school human geography??

if they apparently live so long, show me the funny messy family trees with couples having children generations apart.

so, trust funds of lusters??? lustres?? (which we barely ever see. why is there little-to-no use of money?) which equate to roughly one trillion USD (in value? are you. are you - um. are you....serious?) exist. but I guess inflation and relative currency value from mass money printing doesn't count in this world, as well as the fact that there's only one currency for all the elves.

I wanna see a divorced elven couple now. how does divorce law work??????

if there's such a low BR and low population and people are yet still encouraged to have less kids to 'not dilute the genes' (that's my next point btw), I'm guessing matchmaking is encouraged younger to make sure population stays stable/growing? obv you need it to ensure genetic diversity and no incest, but if it's heavily encouraged for elves to have children like this, are queer elves mandated to have children with a surrogate/other couple even if they have a same-sex marriage?

i'll probably edit this or reblog it to include more stuff (character limit lol) as i remember the books bc it's been a hot minute since i read them.

[gaijin-fujin-resonance]

黄昏のハウリング / Tasogare no Howling

It starts, fittingly, with the slam of a door. A cold, hollow, echoing sound of utter finality. Something has ended. A portal closed for the very last time. And then nearly 10 seconds of silence, as the echoes fade away. It strikes me again: the use of silence on this album is masterful. And yet it’s not total silence. Out of the echoes arises a faint hum, maybe an orchestral pad, with the hint of angelic sighs - a thousand breaths being held at once.

When the first echoey guitar chimes at 0:10, it is the weariest exhale, caught and strung out with an endless delay. Bass and drums kick in at the same time, a stately funeral pace, minimal to the point almost of bleakness. By comparison, even the funereal arrangement of Ai no Soretsu sounds like a costume-party carnival. Tasogare no Howling opens on a barren, windswept tundra. The gleaming guitars are as corruscating as the ice of freezing rain. In the background, a staccato synth-bass drives the procession forward, while all about, tiny squalls of static and electronic noise nip at the ears like gusts of drifting snow.

In an odd way, the orchestration mimics the opening track, Hyakumannayuta no Chiri SCUM, but instead of warmth and welcome, the impeccable sound design creates a cold, cavernous space of loss and emptiness. The only relief from the arctic wind are the tiny, echoing notes of piano off in the distance - I think Yokoyama-san added them simply to provide some warmth and humanity, like a sparkle of sunlight glinting off all the forbidding icy grandeur.

But as on the opening track, the surprise is the deep, tender humanity of Imai’s voice. His lower register, when he sings from his chest tone, is so beautiful, so expressive - you can feel the weary weight of loss, his voice as raw as if he has been up all night crying. Imai has never been a particularly emotionally expressive man; he keeps his cards close to his chest. But as his voice creaks and frays, it’s apparent that still waters run deep. (This is probably projection, but I’ve always detected a touch of alexithymia in Imai. It’s not that he doesn’t have deep emotions, but he seems to struggle to even process the shape of them, let alone express them.)

The arrangement builds slowly. The details are so exquisite: sighed scraps of backwards-masked vocals (0:37); the repeated clang of a metal icepick in the background (0:43); a weird rubber-band distortion (0:55). Shards of jangly guitars drift in about 1:12, wrapping Imai’s voice in angel wings, then around 1:40, haunting electronic sighs like a rising wind seem to lift the song up into the chorus. Chugging rhythm guitars build up the tone in the mid-range, while a charming clinking sound like a marimba made of bones dances in the treble.

Imai’s voice wavers tremulously on the chorus, an unforced vibrato. The contrast between the icy grandeur of the arrangement and the bewildered humanity of the singer gives the song its great power - like an explorer cresting icy snowdrifts, this is a man struggling through an emotional landscape that seems wholly unfamiliar to him. I don’t know why it’s so unexpected - after all, Imai wrote the music for all those dark, tortured gothic anthems, from Taiyou ni Korosareta to Romance. It’s easy to think of Imai as the upbeat, cyberpunk dance-lover, and forget that he sculpted the epic underground caverns where Acchan, Prince of Darkness played.

After the chorus, a piano solo - again, I think this is Yokoyama-san’s work? But the lovely fluid melody creates such a sweet respite of hope, echoing the echoey strums of the guitars, lifting the listener up like the beating wings of some giant beast. The second verse has lush vocal harmonies adding warmth and humanity. The backing vocals are oddly sweet: Imai’s deep spoken intonation of ‘Howling’ mixes with gasps and little exhalations of ‘hoo!’ as if he’s reached the top of a long, exhausting flight of steps. But these extra vocals convey the odd sense that Imai is no longer alone on his journey through the wastelands. The beasts have gathered; the angels are flocking. By the second chorus, Imai’s voice has changed - he has gathered strength from his ghostly companions, as if he is persevering, rather than simply resigned.

And at 4:46, the whole song cracks and breaks open. Do you see what I mean about the use of silence? The guitar feedback rings out at the end of the chorus, then abruptly everything totally cuts out for a split second - like the whole world holding its breath! The calm before the storm, The eye of the hurricane. Christ, he makes us wait for the best bit. Then oh my god, what a guitar solo! A rising squall of feedback, then the pummel of Toll’s drums - and the heavens break open and the storm lets loose.

For two whole chord progressions, Imai just hangs there, on one single note, like a bird of prey on a thermal (I counted it, it’s 20 full beats!) before the note frays, breaks up, that distinctive electronic shriek that means he’s using the sustainer on the Stabilizer Guitar. The tone swoops, shudders, warps and bends - honestly the first time I heard this solo, I actually thought it was theremin, it’s so liquid and quicksilver - before dropping out of the sky. Wait, no, it soars back up, it cries, it wails, a storm of fury and loss and devastation and triumph, a single man howling against nature, howling at god about the unfairness of fate. 

Imai is not a particularly technical guitar player (though he has certainly demonstrated over the years, that he can play elaborate riffs and solos, he just chooses not to) - but the intense emotion of his squalling atonal noise solos leaves me gasping at his sheer expressiveness. The chaotic simplicity of it is devastating. There’s a whole cathartic emotional journey expressed through guitar noise - he falls down, drags himself back up, claws at his hair, spins around, turns himself inside out, then finally, as the drums come to their cataclysmic conclusion, he lets the mood waver and echo away. Still hanging on to the last drops of sound, he swings back and forth over the brink a few times, sawing away at the tremolo arm until the actual note is gone, there’s only echo, delay, reverb, a stretched-out ghost of a guitar sound drifting off into eternity in the silence of the tomb.

It is not a light or easy listen - it’s not a tune you can just have on in the background. It grabs your emotions by the neck and takes them on a terrifying ride through the rawness and bleakness of loss before coming to the peace of acceptance. But the more extreme the human experience, the more extreme the music. This band’s members went through an inexpressibly extreme experience in losing Sakurai; as did the band’s fans. There is no greater gift from a musician to a listener than to express the inexpressible with the rawness of sound. It somehow feels right to listen to sad music when you’re sad, angry music when you’re angry, grieving music when you’re sad and devastated and reeling and grieving.

Music is healing.

Exorcism.

Catharsis.

The whole album of SUBROSA, but in particular this song, is such a gift to the fans - giving us a place to experience, and work through our grief. Thank you, B-T.

[hheartsdramas]

under the moonlight episodes 26-29

i hope at the end of this qin yi has experienced having all the layers of his epidermis removed via being dragged along an extremely rough road for dozens of miles

she's too smart to fall for all this misdirection

"i can be your home" crying

but of course she's going to play it cool because she likes him but she's in the middle of solving her parents' murder and being retraumatized right and left by a creeper

SCREAMING

i don't think i realized menglin is the only legitimate son. and yes i ship it but damn, it would have kind of been great if luo shu could have found a nice mediocre dude with no government job or noble family to be obligated to

definitely thought for a sec the "message" this guy was going to deliver to constable cai was going to be a knife but this might be worse

i'm not convinced miaocui is dead because it was only a scene or two ago that she told the minion to keep an eye on her

well.

i am bereft. i loved miaocui as a character. and i am unreasonably mad because i know there would have been so many viewers who would victim blame. "if she hadn't gone back to the brothel" and all that. but i always understood why she did and while i was worried, i had hope for her. but in every version of society, sex workers are seen as disposable for one reason or another. seriously heartbreaking

and now they're throwing knives at little girls??

yesss to luo shu's smug little smile because she knows exactly what's about to happen to madame and frankly i'm not sure she cares if she gets the answers or if madame dies

if this is all connected to the qin family, i have a very fucked up working theory that mr. creepy is the owner/"master" of the brothel and his elaborate scheme to "tame" luo shu is deeply disturbing on every level.

yep. i am imagining even more gruesome ends for him than the flaying by sharp gravel

crying

there has been very little blood spitting in this drama but the grief finally did it

oh great, a plague

and they're blaming it on miaocui? i am trying to have patience for period understandings but FUCK THEM

gotta say, menglin and luo shu are acting very married

muzhi talking to the mob about the locust god is me talking to maha people about how vaccines are actually safe and effective

she canNOT catch a fucking BREAK

if anyone wants graphic descriptions of how i'd torture and kill qin yi hit me up

so when i didn't like muzhi's future father-in-law i was justified

omg did they just get ENGAGED??? *runs the sails up on my ship and steers straight for the incoming squall*

maybe i should feel something about muzhi chasing after them like this but i kind of feel that he lost his chance and has been pretty lackadaisical about getting it back

eldest brother dying amidst scandal is probably not the thing my ship needs

"i sold you to a brothel but didn't let them force you to have sex with anyone until you were 18" FUCK OFF AND DIE "i had to kill your friend so she didn't tell you about exactly how evil i am" FUCK OFF AND DIE AGAIN

it's been a while since i've hated a villain so fiercely. viscerally. his viscera, spilling out of him after i cut him open criss cross to mimic those stupid buns he keeps trying to feed her.

[minijenn]

Shades of the Sea Chapter 14: Fire

Story Summary: After spending five years stuck in the World of the Ocean King, Link returns to the Great Sea, only to find it changed beyond recognition. His friends and family view him as a traitor, accusing him of causing chaos across the ocean. With his allies all turned against him and a curse threatening to take his life, he sets out to reconnect with the one person who may be able to clear his name: Tetra.

Meanwhile, something sinister is rising over the Great Sea--a shadow seeking to spill the hero's blood and revive its fallen master. And this time, Link may not be strong enough to stop it on his own.

Ships: Link/Tetra

Rating: T

Warnings: Angst, Trauma, Violence, Blood and Injury, Torture, Harm to Children, Psycological Trauma

Chapter Summary: A hero is caught in the line of fire. A captain seeks to spark change. By the time Link finally makes it out of the snow squall surrounding Dragon Roost, night has long since fallen. And with it, so too has what could very well be one of the last three days of his life.  It’s a haunting thought that quickly spoils the newfound warmth spreading over his skin. Whether it’s from escaping the storm or from the still-spreading curse, he has no idea. He gets his answer when that warmth suddenly turns painful the second it settles in his chest.  In fact, it stings so badly he struggles to keep himself upright on his snow-battered canoe. It’s as if he’s been shoved straight into a bed of burning coals, only for those coals to turn to the coldest ice seconds later. It’s getting worse, he realizes, upon checking his chest to find those faintly glowing lines creeping their way up toward his neck. Everything’s getting worse , he thinks, with the memory of what happened on Dragon Roost weighing heavy in his heart.  He had been so close. He’d found someone willing to listen to him, to vouch for him, to save him. Only for it to all be ripped right out of his fingers at the worst possible time. Link can’t help but wonder what Medli might have said to Komali after he’d left. He hopes that she had, at the very least, been able to convince him of his innocence, if no one else.  Click the link to read more; all comments are appreciated!

[star-trek-fandom-confessions]

Re: many of the various about the Gorn or listing SNW's handling of the Gorn as one of its major problems.

Perception not matching reality, what is/is not a monster is a huge theme throughout SNW.

Ghost of Illyria – Those light monsters didn’t murder the Illyrians, they are the Illyrians and were trying to save Pike and Spock all along. Everyone (except Una ofc) learns a lesson that Illyrians can’t be lumped in with the Augments and need greater understanding Lift Us Where Suffering Cannot Reach – Turns out that nice lovely civilization is literally torturing children. The terrorists are actually trying to save those children. The Serene Squall – Surprise the counselor is a pirate Ad Astra Per Aspera – Continues with the Illyrians deserve understanding theme. Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow – That helpful reporter is actually a Romulan. Even notorious tyrant and mass murderer Khan Noonien Singh was once a scared child. Lost in Translation – Starfleet is the monster, accidentally torturing and killing a life form they didn't know existed. Under the Clock of War – Turns out the lovely ship’s doctor is actually the Butcher of J’Gal and capable of murdering someone in cold blood. War can make a monster of anyone.

Yet so many people seem to think they’re not going to pull something similar with the Gorn? Even though the show has taken time to establish that the Gorn are intelligent and have a religion?

The thing about the Gorn is that people have died - La’an’s family, Hemmer, some other members of the Enterprise crew, nearly the entire crew of the Cayuga, multiple colonies - and possibly Marie will be added to that list before the two-parter is done. That creates an environment where it’s understandable that the SNW characters would not want to have their perception that the Gorn are monsters challenged, because the harm they have caused is so personal.

It creates a really interesting conflict for the crew, because how do you find understanding, how to you fight the will for revenge, when there’s been so much pain?

I could be wrong about this being the route the SNW writers are going down, but I’m really excited to see if they do.

Posting this as a response to several earlier confessions.

[atrueneutral]

So, I think many might be wondering about this. Will Tav keep the baby? If so, what would family life look like? And would the lil one call Haarlep "uncle"?

Per [this prompt]!

I’ll leave it open ended and up for the readers to decide, but I’m more than happy to write out a follow-up of what I envision for each decision!

If Tav keeps the baby: I think this Tav would want to leave Baldur’s Gate to raise their child in a much smaller, nearby town. Raphael would set her up in a quaint home and ensure that she has all that she needs, and he would visit whenever able up until the birth. He’d be a bit distant when she does give birth and the months after (as the squalling and seeing Tav overwhelmed overwhelms him), but he comes around to be that pillar of support she needs (because he loves her). Tav understands that he’s… adjusting. Over time he grows fond (‘in his own way’) and would become very protective of their child, however I don’t envision him being Father of the Year.

I personally don’t see Tav ever wanting their child to visit the House of Hope with the souls, and the skeletons, and the tortured screaming, etc. She’d need to save and have that difficult conversation about Raphael’s nature when their child is older. She doesn’t hide what he is from the kid, but she doesn’t go out of her way to bring it up.

Haarlep likes to call themself ‘Uncle Haarlep’ all the time when Raphael is Home!

If Tav doesn’t keep the baby: they continue their arrangement, keep the potions out of reach of incubi, and naturally and inevitably fall in love with each other.

[pokemonblack3white3]

hush quiet silent

anywayyyyy

Lots of aus

we got the

Cress in Hisui au, Cress in future Z-A (Snow Squall au), Mental Torture <3, Shadow Triad au because you already gotta have one

and I own the Cress username on couple of forums

finally

because Cress is silly your honor and by calling me Mr. Beta Cress, I am silly

I'm the nb rock eater :)

ACCEPTED INTO THE STRIATON TRIO COUNCIL I dub thee, Mr. Beta Cress, as Head Cress Councilman.

Accept your badge and take your seat. Our numbers are now two.

[incorrectnevermoor]

Kiss, Marry, Kill, but instead it's Imprison, Torture, Execute, and the characters you have to work with are Noelle, Baz, and Squall?

Imprison Noelle because I firmly believe she can grow as a person

Execute Baz because I hate his vibe

Torture Squall because I can’t kill him he’s too 🥴

[semi-imaginary-place]

ffviii liveblogging notes

seipher squall kinda homoerotic

Everyone looks 30

the dystopian setting has me in its grip

I'll be honest i can't keep track of any of the characters. I only recognize squall

Moomba!

Ok the torture sequence was gay.

Time travel???? Oh no....

Plot convenient amnesia.

So... laguna's a deadbeat.

Shumi are trans and autistic. Special interest little guys transforming into forms that reflect their personalities.

There's timetravel and space ships in this game

Moon's haunted

who made laguna president. His dad clothes.

adel is the woman of all time

Ultimecia's plunging v to her v. At what point is it an open robe.

I could probably write a gender analysis what with how important sorceresses are to the game.

The dog is my favorite (honorary) party. Angelo looks like some shepard mix and yeah those dogs would totally kump up onto someone's arm and launch at a god if space-time.

I'm 99% sure squall is alive but the fact the devs leave that little sliver of doubt is bothering me. The likeliest interpretation is squall breaks his brain trying to reach rinoa but she comes to him instead and rather then them going and meeting in the promise flower field rinoa calls the flower field to them and saves squall with the power of love. Ffviii doesn't really have that tragedy vibe.

I was not expecting a romance main plot but it was fine. I'm not crazy for ffviii but i appreciate it. Really interesting game I love the concepts. The execution is a little messy like i did not keep up with the convoluted plot i've missed a lot of plot points i need to review. Like things could be paced a little better they use climatic moments to infodump a lot. Ff8 is a slow burn for sure it drops puzzle pieces but then things come together in the last disk.

[firstknightvulion]

I really wish we got more into Squall’s head when Rinoa first asks him to dance. Of course, we can imagine. And make it really funny.

Squall leaning against the column, resting bitch face at the ready. He sips from his champagne glass.

Squall (Internal Dialogue 1): This is fucking ginger ale.

Squall (Internal Dialogue 2): Dude, we’re seventeen.

Squall (Internal Dialogue 1): Yesterday, I killed like fifteen guys. I think I can get a damn drink.

As the intense, internal argument rages inside his head, Squall glances up at the night sky through the enormous sky light. A shooting star blazes into his view. He follows its descent until his eyes land on a pretty girl in a white dress. Their eyes meet and she smiles at him, pointing towards the sky.

Squall (Internal Dialogue 2): Shit! Eye contact! What do we do?!

Squall (Internal Dialogue 1): Relax. It’s just eye contact. It’s not like she’s gonna come over.

Rinoa begins to approach, her eyes never leaving Squall’s.

Squall (Internal Dialogue 2): OH FUCK!!! She’s coming closer!

Squall (Internal Dialogue 1): Hey, she looked us in the eye! She needs to take responsibility! Maybe we’ll get lucky and she’ll tell us not to stare like a creeper!

Rinoa: *walks up and smiles* You’re the best looking guy here. Dance with me?

Squall (Internal Dialogue 2): *crying hysterically*

Squall (Internal Dialogue 1): I can’t do this, man! Just ignore her! Maybe she’ll go away!

Squall: *turns away and takes a sip of his drink*

Rinoa: Let me guess…you’ll only dance with someone you like.

Squall (Internal Dialogue 1): Good! She took the hint! Now we gotta sneak out and not talk to anything for a month. That’ll make us feel better.

Rinoa: Ok then. *her hand shoots up, her fingers inches from Squall’s face* Look into my eyes…

Squall (Internal Dialogue 2): *dies*

Rinoa: *chanting and twirling her fingers* You’re-going-to-like-me, you’re-going-to-like-me…did it work?

Squall (Internal Dialogue 2): *revives* Fuck, we’re in love. Talk. Use words. We know those. WOO HER!

Squall (Internal Dialogue 1): Bullshit! We can still get out of this! Observe!

Squall: …I can’t dance.

Squall: (Internal Dialogue 2): You weak-ass motherfucker. How dare you stand against destiny?!

Rinoa: You’ll be fine. Come on. *grabs Squall by the arm and starts dragging* I’m looking for someone. I can’t be on the dance floor alone.

Squall (Internal Dialogue 1): NOOOOOOO!!!!

Squall (Internal Dialogue 2): YEEEEESSS!!!

I hope I have conveyed the internal struggle of one Squall Leonhart to the satisfaction of everyone. I love torturing characters. It’s fun.

VII, VIII and IX are very near and dear to my heart.