#trial entrances

[inafieldofdaisies]

[dkniade]

Childe’s Story Quest: theme, storytelling, form follows function

Content Warning: self-destructive behaviour, mentions freezing and mutilation

Spoilers for the entire quest.

—

Showing both Teucer’s and Tartaglia’s perspectives throughout the quest sure reveals more about Tartaglia.

The quest on so many levels conveys its theme: the divided perspectives between a naive childhood lens and a disillusioned (??) adult lens.

One is unknowingly caught in a wonderful yet deceiving story (the tone and form), the other sees reality for what it is but tries to maintain innocent childhood dreams with these stories (the content and meaning).

Tartaglia was once the former, and is now the latter.

—

For example during the hide and seek cutscene, the tone set by the soundtrack “Foul Legacy” and the flashy cinematography & visual effects is very adventurous (in an anime way).

This is how Teucer views Tartaglia. (Teucer literally shuts his eyes and thinks it’s all a game.)

But the reality of the situation is shown moments before, where we see Tartaglia looking all soft and mortal against the dangerous Ruin Guards right behind him. Like, if you didn’t know what the game is, you’d think this is a moment of dramatic irony where the boy is gonna die because he doesn’t seem to notice the big scary automaton right behind him.

And it’s not that he’s weak in general, but in this specific moment he just defeated a few dangerous automatons, and he’s about to use his physically draining technique to fight off even more of them under the limit of ten seconds—all for the sake of protecting his kid brother’s innocent dream.

—

But really, this divide between childhood and adulthood is shown straight from the beginning. And I think the whole quest could be summed up with that nursery rhyme:

拉钩拉钩不许变，变了丢他去冰川。冰川冷，雪原寒，撒谎的舌头都冻烂！

The Chinese rhyme scheme is ABCBB.

Literally speaking it’s

Pinkie promise, pinkie promise, [you’re] not allowed to change [it], change [it and we] throw him [onto] the glacier. The glacier [is] cold, the snowfield [is] cold, lying tongues all freeze [and] rot!

(Note that 丢 is a verb that could either mean to throw away or abandon [something physical or abstract]. The syntax here is a bit odd because it’s a nursery rhyme. 丢他去冰川 doesn’t have a preposition so I’m not sure if it’d be “throw him onto the glacier” or “throw him into the glacier’s river”. Also, 冷 and 寒 are two different adjectives that both mean cold, essentially.)

But if I try to rhyme it with a bit of rhythm then it could be something like

Pinkie promise, pinkie promise, you’re not allowed to change it. He who goes back on his words gets thrown onto the glacier. The glacier’s cold, and so’s the snow. The tongues that lie shall freeze and rot.

English dub equivalent:

You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life. You break a pinkie promise, I throw you on the ice. The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend, the frost will freeze your tongue off so you never lie again.

Rhythmically and tonally it sounds like a fun and naive nursery rhyme (emphasized when the innocent Teucer first says it at the start)—but the content is about the fatal consequence of breaking a promise… especially as a Snezhnayan (emphasized when the traveler and Tartaglia repeat at the end after the near fatal situation in the factory).

Ohh, so a character’s theme could also be done this way.

—

In hindsight as I was explaining how 丢 could refer to throwing away something physical (e.g. an object) or abstract (e.g. dreams), the person in the nursery rhyme could easily be a stand-in for childhood dreams, huh…

A childhood dream that promises to never change, but ends up changing anyway, so it gets abandoned at the glacier and is left to freeze…

拉钩拉钩不许变，变了丢他去冰川。冰川冷，雪原寒，撒谎的舌头都冻烂！

As Paimon says, “Wow... That one nursery rhyme kinda says all you need to know about Snezhnayan culture…”

Miscellaneous first reactions of third act

Teucer takes the path straight into the factory but the door immediately closes, so Childe is forced to enter from the side with a more difficult path

What goes into a world of danger and unknowingly get trapped? What has to use more lopsided methods to sneak in just to protect… Teucer symbolizes childhood innocence, and Childe is adulthood?

Hm, that overhead shot of tiny Teucer running into the factory with Childe and Traveler watching from higher grounds behind bars— It’s like Childe watching his younger self… rushing into the forest and into the abyss? Oh, and consistently Childe is forced to take the dangerous route and face all the difficulties while being unable to reach Teucer.

aw…

Paimon and the traveller witnessing Childe’s moment of vulnerability yet still needing to keep up the toysalesman illusion to Teucer in the domain is…

(Actually, this feels similar to Thelxie’s Fantastic Adventure where Zuria is optimistic about the plan and Freminet later pulls the two aside to tell them the truth about the condition)

Well, both have the theme of keeping up childhood dreams with stories don’t they

Wanting to keep up the illusion longer and not wanting to let Teucer see his weak side of him, huh…

Yet still wanting to fight the traveler in the future despite still recovering from a serious injury. What kind of self-destructive tendency is this

Ah, the idea of meeting Childe in his home turf is interesting considering Snezhnaya is so far from Liyue

It’s all so sad. Why does he trust the traveler this much even though they’re on opposite sides and fought in the Liyue archon quest not long ago

[newtish250]

more scorch trials stuff

“Dude, if those shuck WICKED people wanted her dead, she’d be rottin’ under a big pile of rocks.” -Minho about Teresa

Well… we all know what happens to her don’t we?

“We should’ve stopped a couple hours ago to get some sleep. But thanks to Mr. Desert runner down here..” - Minho to Thomas

Thomas is Mr. Desert runner

Then, to Thomas’s utter disbelief, the man jumped through the jagged hole in the ceilings, falling toward them. At the last second, he crumpled into a human ball and rolled three times, then sprang up and landed on his feet. - About Jorge

Are we just going to ignore his entrance!?

[zazzander]

I just realised why Camp Jupiter is seperate from New Rome. It's for training. It's so they get attacked. It's to keep them vigilant. Camp Half-Blood is a safe haven where you learn to fight. Camp Jupiter is getting thrown into the gladiator pit and being told to literally "conquer or die". They aren't supposed to be safe. They're suppose to fight for their lives for ten years straight and then they've proved themselves good enough to be safe.

[kafus]

i remembered people shipping hau and gladion back when i was in high school but it’s been so long i kinda forgot Why, and replaying this game already has made it Very Clear to me as to why LOL it’s so funny how hau is just completely impervious to gladion’s emo energy (as an aside i think it’s really funny how gladion talks about the battle royal dome in the same fashion as drinking sorrows away irt alcohol 😭)

also i WON the tutorial battle royal and they didn’t give me anything for winning SMH. i took out a pokemon on the one permitted turn and no one else did and no one acknowledged it. like was i not supposed to be able to win or something LMAO

oh yeah and i forgot to post this yesterday, look at how much money i made off of pearl items while fishing for that fucking mareanie LMAOO the series of bad luck was crazy

man you don’t even know the start of it sir

[citrine-elephant]

the warden, but after the mace is introduced and gets its enchantments, a player who decides to power slam one..... enters a new dimension....

[kotaerukoto]

chat I'm asking this seriously genuinely for realsies what did Junko mean by this

[lunar-wandering]

Decided that before i go to bed id show yall the dresses i drew based on a moodboard in the fashion class i had today

[batmanq]

“Hello noses!!” SSCARIEST SHITTWUGKSKGNAK

[mightaswelljxmp]

hm ok so interestingly, bdubs’s courthouse is built on an odd number of blocks. note the roof of the facade coming to a point, but more importantly, the nine pillars….

you don’t use an odd number of pillars. like ever.

let me get this out of the way first: i get why you’d build with odd numbers in minecraft. i usually do it myself, to not run into problems like double doors or two-wide pointed roofs or frustrating spacing/symmetry between decorative elements. however. to not even out the design of something so unequivocally done in every other example of columns and pillars…. fascinating implications…

every other example guys. every other building with columns like this has an even number of them.

doing so sets the line of symmetry at an invisible point between two pillars, an even number on each side. but an odd total number of pillars makes the central pillar itself the line of symmetry. this does a couple things.

one, it upends the sense of community and equality. which i know sounds crazy, but really, a group of columns are all put there to hold up a structure. there’s no focus on one because they are all are working as supports.

symbolically, at least when first used in ancient greece, pillars represented people. and it makes sense for courthouses, especially, to want to show an even, fair, equal number of people on each side. no focus on any one, no inherent bias right off the bat just looking at it.

with an odd number of pillars, though, one will always be placed front and center.

and THEN. and then you walk in the courtroom itself (also odd-numbered blocks) and you are immediately opposite the judge, bdubs, located exactly centrally. and true, courtrooms are often set up like this anyway. but bdubs ups the ante and reaffirms that no, focus is on him by staging it all as a daytime court show, boom mic just over his head, cameras pointed in, spotlights on him.

literally by design, it was not built for justice. it’s built for show, for entertainment. and just look at the credits to know exactly what sort of message you’re supposed to be getting from this show.

the biblical story he used, with king solomon. it’s about king solomon. isn’t really about the trial itself, or the babies, or the women. it’s about showing (off) how wise and just he is. that’s the point. hm. interesting.

now, getting to the second point that etho also picked up on: it feels like a prison.

it’s not just the color palette. when your eyes naturally draw to the center point, you aren’t seeing an open space. instead of feeling like an arch or gateway or otherwise some kind of opening, the pillar there makes it feel closed off. the overall effect is that of prison bars. not pillars lining the entrance to a place of order or a temple. bars of a cage, a cell.

imagine the lincoln memorial were set up with 11 or 13 pillars. he’d look so much more trapped in there.

having a central pillar blocks the entrance. it’s not welcoming. you have to go around it; it’s immediately inconveniencing you. and when you go to leave, it’s there blocking you again.

this courthouse was not designed and built to be fair, nor accomodating, nor equitable, on any terms. even if unintentional, i wouldn’t call it so much coincidental as i would… subconscious.

after all, y’know. form follows function.

[psqqa]

dahlia: from the moment i first laid eyes on my feenie, i knew it was love

mia: *michael bluth voice* him?

[mccromy]

Disciple Shen Yuan au.

As it's been established before, Shen Jiu is an incredibly traumatized man, who took that cycle of abuse and made it a snowball turned avalanche of abuse.

He made up survival rules that served him well as a child on the streets, but only isolated him as a Peak Lord. He's paranoid, hateful and erratic. He's well aware that he's a bad man, he sees himself as the scorpion asking a frog for a ride, and he can't see that he does not sting because such is his nature, he stings because he believes with such certainty he knows the frog will drown him. And even if he went mad and decided to be good, he wouldn't even know where to start.

We learn by example, and we're well aware of the examples to follow available for him.

On that note, now that he's Peak Lord, he recreates his own trauma as the abuser. It gives him a sense of power, and it makes things fair, because if he couldn't have a kind master, then why should they (his disciples). It would be unjust, to let them have what he didn't, it wouldn't make sense, because now that he's at the top he sees how easy it could be to not do things. He doesn't need to whip these children, to make them kneel under the sun for ours on end. But he does anyways, he doesn't derive amusement from it, but if Qiu Jianluo could just not pay attention to him when he had the choice and did anyway, why would he give his disciples the reprieve he didn't have?

And he knows what is done to cruel masters. He knows that if given the chance, those cowering pathetic creatures will turn on him.

He won't let them.

In the end, he does not regard any of them as his students. And when Luo Binghe arrives, Shen Qingqiu ends up behaving as a less predatory Qiu Jianluo; he places Luo Binghe in the role of Xiao Jiu and Ning Yingying as Qiu Haitang. And, in the back of his mind he feels he can understand Qiu Jianluo for the first time (he's wrong, the monster Qiu Jianluo was and the monster Shen Jiu became are not the same. But Shen Qingqiu always thought he understood people very well, never realizing that what he read on everybody's faces were his own thoughts reflected back at him.) because he just can't not pay attention to that boy. Because Xiao Jiu had not a moment's rest under Qiu Jianluo so why should Luo Binghe ever find relief under Shen Qingqiu? If Xiao Jiu was a thing to be used, then isn't he so kind to make of Luo Binghe a beast instead?

Shen Yuan arrives, perhaps before Luo Binghe does, but it doesn't matter. Shen Qingqiu takes this boy in after being urged by Yue Qingyuan for his lack of showing up at the disciple entrance trial.

And, from the beginning one thing is clear.

Shen Yuan despises Shen Qingqiu.

Every new disciple that reaches his peak seems eager, nervous, desperate to show Shen Qingqiu how good they are. They look at him with awe and tentative hope, as if Shen Qingqiu would ever play their game. As if he'd ever give them what they feel entitled to but do not deserve.

Shen Yuan looks at him like he knows exactly what kind of master Shen Qingqiu is, like he knows exactly what Shen Qingqiu is thinking of, well aware of what the future entails for him.

And as they perform the tea ceremony, Shen Qingqiu looks at this boy and finally understands why Wu Yanzi saw a mistreated slave and decided he was too funny to let go.

Shen Qingqiu takes Shen Yuan as his disciple. He drinks what's clearly a tea brewed to offend, and for the first time on his tenure as a Peak Lord, drinks with the intent to become a teacher.

But we learn by example. The previous Qing Jing Peak Lord might've been his Shizun in name, but in his pathetic life Shen Jiu only ever recognized one teacher.

And Wu Yanzi loved to play games.

Shen Qingqiu smiles kindly, a hint of amusement showing in his eyes. The child looks at him as if he's gone insane, and Shen Qingqiu tilts his head as if he finds it so endearing.

"Excellently brewed, Shen Yuan, this master formally accepts you as his disciple. From now on this one is your Shizun, and you'll refer to him as such. Your Shixiongs and Shijies will become your family, and Qing Jing your home." Shen Yuan has grown pale, defiance turned into fear. But such is not the face of a boy scared as he wanders in the dark, uncertain of what's ahead. That's the face of someone who knows exactly what kind of animal lurks in the shadows from the way its teeth glint under meager moonlight. His mouth's become a tight line, breathing controlled to not hitch. He looks grim, not afraid. He was not expecting this, but knows how to play along. Shen Qingqiu inclines his head in a shallow bow. "Welcome, Disciple Shen, to my Qing Jing Peak."

The boy unclenches his jaw and answers drily, "this one thanks Shizun."

Shen Yuan's voice is flat, like Shen Jiu's when greeted Wu Yanzi. Shen Qingqiu grinned just as Wu Yanzi did.

Shen Qingqiu forgets something though,

He's not Qiu Jianluo, and he's not Wu Yanzi. And he might've been right in another life, with Luo Binghe and a self fulfilling prophecy of cruel masters dying at the hands of ungrateful wretched boys.

But he doesn't know Shen Yuan is not tied to a narrative, that he can recognize a self fulfilling prophecy from a mile away and turn tail the opposite way.

He forgets Shen Yuan is not Shen Jiu.

What Shen Yuan is, is freaking out, shouting "WHATTHEFUCK WHAT. WHAT. THE. FUCK??????" inside his head.

He smells a fucking rat. And he's NOT buying whatever you're selling Shen Qingqiu!!! Ptoo ptoo!! He's going to compare whatever manual you give him with other disciple's!!! from ANOTHER Peaks!!! SYSTEM?? SYSTEM ARE YOU GLITCHING??? IS HE GLITCHING??

[Host may rest in peace knowing Scum Villain Shen Qingqiu is acting perfectly in character ^w^]

(What do you mean rest in peace, are you telling me to R.I.P?? Is he going to kill me??? This is not the two bit scumbag I was promised??? What the FUCK you mean perfectly in character???)

[He is large, he contains multitudes.]

(Is he thinking about killing me or not???)

[This System cannot answer that.]

(Throw me a bone.)

[... Scum Villain Shen Qingqiu will behave differently towards his victim depending on said victim's profile.]

(VICTIM???)

[Whoops uwu. This System meant to say disciple! Every student has different needs! A good teacher knows how to adapt!]

And thus begins Shen Yuan's life at Qing Jing Peak.

Shen Qingqiu does give Shen Yuan a fake manual. Shen Yuan compares it to every manual he can get his hands on, and goes AHA! At the utter bullshit inside the book Shen Qingqiu gave him. End ups stealing one of Qian Cao, glues the cover of a Qing Jing peak manual on it. Glues the Quan Cao manual's cover on the Qing Jing manual lose pages. Takes the fake manual to Shen Qingqiu with the intent to confront him with a gotcha! Shen Qingqiu makes worried sounds. Oh, how could this happen, how dangerous! Is disciple Shen hurt? And burns the manual in front of Shen Yuan's aghast face, effectively getting rid of all evidence. Then apologizes and, smirking, hands him a new manual.

(Cunt.)

Said manual is slightly altered, but only midway, so is more difficult to spot it, yet still managing to damage the reader's cultivation at a crucial point.

Shen Yuan uses the pages to make paper planes and, instead of throwing them, he viciously stomps on them.

(Shang Qinghua shudders at the distance and then glances around to see if Mobei-Jun is sneaking a peak through his portals again. Over a decade Shang Qinghua has been at his service and he still randomly opens a little hole in the fabric of space to check Shang Qinghua is not betraying him! If his King keeps this up he just might! Hmph! ((He won't)))

Shen Qingqiu keeps being his acidic self with everybody else, but by playing mind games with Shen Yuan he accidentally places him on the spot of most favored disciple, outshining Ning Yingying, someone who Shen Qingqiu actually likes, because when Shen Qingqiu likes someone he's not sharp and cutting with them, but with Shen Yuan he looks dotting. It's driving poor Shen Yuan up the wall.

Not only nobody believes him, but the apparent favoritism has isolated him from other disciples who, driven by jealousy, try to sabotage him. Shen Qingqiu notices this and it half amuses him, half makes him feel a strange sort of anger he cannot understand.

As a favored disciple, Shen Yuan starts to accompany him in what used to be solo hunts, and in one of every three night hunts Shen Qingqiu sets Shen Yuan up for failure, grave injury, or death if he's been too annoying.

After some time being tossed around like a mouse by his evil cat of a Shizun, Shen Yuan starts to play along. He works himself to the ground to excel in every subject Shen Qingqiu tried to sabotage him in, and aided by his knowledge as a transmigrator, he succeeds. He follows Shen Qingqiu around like a shadow, delighting in the stressed twitch of his eyebrows. Gets too into it and starts playing it up as a good little henchman. He basically goes "good one boss!" To everything Shen Qingqiu says.

"Qi Shimei claims to be uninterested in this Shixiong's affairs, yet she's up to date on every single drop of gossip surrounding him."

And before Qi Qingqi can snap at him, Shen Yuan peaks from behind Shen Qingqiu's back and chirps:

"Qi-Shigu should be too mature to try to attract Shizun's attention with such ploys! She ought to send this disciple a letter and he will make sure to arrange a private meeting for both of you!"

Shen Qingqiu hates it. But he's nothing if not adaptable.

"If Mu-Shidi is done, this master has matters to attend to."

"Shixiong, this one is worried, your constitution has been worsening these past few years and, not only as your doctor, but as a—"

"As a what, Shidi? Sect brother? Friend?" sneers Shen Qingqiu.

"As a mother?" Pipes Shen Yuan, "is Mu-shishu Shizun's mother?"

"Ah, Shizi—?"

"Such nagging can only come from a mother's mouth!"

"Shidi is not this one's mother and should mind his place,"

"Shishu should shave that moustache, too."

Sometimes Shen Qingqiu finds him funny, sometimes he needs to hurt him.

He makes Shen Yuan use his qi to strengthen his hands as he makes him submerge them inside a pot of boiling water, as "training". After a few private training sessions, Shen Yuan starts to succeed in keeping them from burning. Shen Qingqiu surprises him with a pot of boiling oil. Shen Yuan stubbornly complies and succeeds. Hands red and stinging, but the skin remains intact, if tender

Shen Qingqiu is both disappointed, and a little bit relieved. But more than anything, he's angry. Had it been him, at Shen Yuan's age, the oil would've melted the flesh off his bones.

No matter what he throws at Shen Yuan, the boy comes up top, and even if he doesn't, he heals so quickly (he doesn't know about the Qian Cao manual), and it is as if he never failed in the first place.

Shen Qingqiu ends up losing patience and whips him three years into this game. Shen Yuan is fifteen. And as he is lowered down he glances back at Shen Qingqiu from his shoulder and says, pale and shaking, "I win," and throws up.

Shen Qingqiu qi deviates.

Shen Yuan looks at him, as he bleeds and convulses and thinks about letting him die.

He crawls towards him and, with the healing knowledge he's gathered through the years, stops the qi deviation before it turns lethal.

Then he passes out.

Ming Fan finds them and runs for help.

The rumor of the Qing Jing peak lord qi deviating after whipping his beloved disciple out of sheer horror and grief spreads like wildfire. Shen Qingqiu and Shen Yuan avoid each other for a month.

What does Luo Binghe think of all this?

At first, he admired Shen Yuan, favored disciple as he was. Then he envied him, for he was the only one Shen Qingqiu never hurt.

Then he felt ashamed, for Shen Yuan was kind and worked so, so hard, he deserved to be favored. Luo Binghe saw how the others treated him, and that only made him admire him more. Shen Yuan rose above his circumstances even when others attempted to bring him down.

Shen Yuan cross referenced an older Qing Jing disciple's manual with a Qiong Ding and a An Ding peak one, and his own Qian Cao manual, and wrote Luo Binghe a personalized manual (he also learned Shen Qingqiu kept faulty manuals around?? And sometimes gave them away?? WHY???? ((Shen Jiu confiscated them during his tenure as head disciple and never got rid of them. He did give one away accidentally, but Luo Binghe's and Shen Yuan's he gave on purpose)). Luo Binghe cries and hugs his kind, beautiful Shixiong. His cultivation improves immensely after that.

Shen Qingqiu notices this, notices the new manual and Shen Yuan's, who's become his Head Disciple, handwriting. He summons Shen Yuan to the bamboo house and berates him.

At first, Shen Yuan believes Shen Qingqiu is shouting at him (he lost his patience!! Shen Yuan 2, Shizun 0!) for not letting him kill Luo Binghe. Then he thinks it's actually for defying his authority.

Then, it dawns on him.

Shen Yuan had told him Luo Binghe had enough talent to surpass him and he shouldn't stifle it. Shen Qingqiu hissed an incredulous: "Then how will you fight him off when he turns on you?!"

Shen Qingqiu was going purple on the face over the thought of Shen Yuan giving Luo Binghe the tools to eventually hurt him

At first, Shen Yuan had been offended on Luo Binghe's behalf. Then, because was Shen Qingqiu trying to sow discord between them or something?

Then he remembered that in PIDW Shen Qingqiu gave Luo Binghe a faulty manual too, that he poured tea on him after Luo Binghe earnestly told him about his mother. Remembered how when he first began his good one boss! routine, Shen Qingqiu tensed imperceptibly when Shen Yuan trailed after him. How he's come to know this man, the way his eyes glint when he is satisfied and how his hands shake when there's a qi deviation incoming. How his lips twist when displeased, and how his breathing hitches when he is in danger. He's come to know his paranoia. He's learnt to recognize the way this man wears fear and realizes that that's what he's seeing now.

Shen Qingqiu is scared.

And when Shen Yuan looks back to what he knows of his Shizun, the things he's done in this life and the other. Many behaviors who seemed erratic and unpredictable, suddenly make sense when framed by fear.

And now he realizes that Shen Qingqiu is not only afraid of Luo Binghe, but he is also afraid of Shen Yuan.

But more than that, he's afraid for Shen Yuan.

Suddenly this game they play is not so fun anymore.

It never should've been.

(It might've never been, but Shen Yuan can be just as blind as his Shizun when he doesn't want to face the cruel reality he was reborn in.)

[yandere-daydreams]

Not-So-Scary Moments With The Yan. Genshin Boys (Sumeru + Fontaine Edition).

Characters: Alhaitham, Neuvillette, Kaveh, Tighnari, Cyno, and Wriothesley.

Word Count: 2.7k.

TW: Borderline Shitposting, Prolonged Imprisonment, Varying Levels of Emotional and Physical Abuse, Codependency, Mentions of Stalking, and Unhealthy Relationships.

Alhaitham

It took Alhaitham about ten minutes to drag himself out of bed, his staggered footsteps audible through the thin walls of his apartment.

It took twenty for him to haul himself through his morning routine – water running somewhere in the distance and porcelain clattering against marble countertops as he washed his face and tried to work some life into himself. Alhaitham usually wasn’t so lethargic, but he’d had a rough week. There’d been a sudden influx of paperwork for the Akademiya’s sole scribe, and every second he didn’t spend buried under new legislation and requests for increased budging was, instead, dedicated to one of his many personal research projects. By the time he’d gotten home last night, it’d been all he could do to make sure you hadn’t starved to death and drag himself to bed.

He usually would’ve kept you waiting for a few more minutes, but an agitated grunt marked an end to his normal patterns. In a moment, he was braced against the doorway to his own study, his eyes narrowed half-hearted towards where you sat in his leather-padded chair, your feet propped on his desk. There was an book open in your lap – one of his, something about metaphysics and ley line abnormalities and how both tied into the Inazuman politics. He eyed it wearily before speaking, his voice still deep with exhaustion. “Where did you put my hearing aids?”

His tone was accusatory, his irritation visible. You put on your sweetest smile. “Where did you put my novellas?” you signed, thinking for a moment before adding, “Bitch?”

“They aren’t ‘novellas’, they’re—” He cut himself off with a scoff. “They’re filth. I don’t want you rotting your brain with smut.”

“The plots are very—”

“The plots are half-baked excuses for paper-thin characters to fondle each other in locations you can tell the author didn’t take the time to properly research and—” His gaze flickered to you, his frown deepening. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“You’ve read them?”

There was a long beat of silence.

Finally, he let out a labored sigh. “The dozen or so I couldn’t be bothered to throw away are in a cabinet underneath the kitchen sink. It’s locked – the code is your birthday. Now, where are my aids?”

“You fell asleep with them on last night,” you said aloud, abandoning his glorified textbook and pushing yourself to your feet. His hand shot to the side of his head, finding the metallic cuff only slightly displaced by having spent the better half of the night on his head. As you passed him, you paused, pressing a kiss into the corner of his scowl and pretending to ignore the muffled groan he let out in response.

Neuvillette

Of all the sights you thought you might see after arriving in your wonderous new nation, the Iudex of Fontaine standing over your drained bathtub with a look of potent remorse written across his expression was not one of them.

You’d imagined yourself strolling through the walls of the Opera Epiclese in vivid detail, been able to picture exactly what you might’ve seen standing below the Tower of Ipsissimus or above the bottomless pit that was the entrance to the Fortress of Meropide, but even after you’d found yourself in the smothering care of Monsieur Neuvillette, you never would’ve been able to conjure this sight. He usually insisted that you bathe together, going so far as to have an in-ground tub that could’ve easily been mistaken for a hot spring installed in his (until recently neglected) personal residence to better indulge the habit. Thankfully, the trial he’d been presiding over had run long today, and you’d been able to save yourself an hour of his calloused hands running over your body, of his eyes burning into your skin with a nearly inhuman focus. You knew he’d be disappointed. Irate, even, depending on how his trial swung.

You hadn’t expected him to be so… sulky about it.

Half-lidded eyes, a slight pout tugging at the corner of his lips as he lingered idly in the doorway between your shared bedroom and the in-suite bathroom. Steam and silence laid heavy in the air – the latter you were eventually forced to break as you fiddled with the hem of your robe. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, hoping more to break the tension than to make him think you were genuinely apologetic. “It was getting late, and I didn’t know when you were coming home. I didn’t think you’d take it so personally.” When he didn’t respond, you braced yourself for the worst. “If you’re angry, please say so. I… I’d rather get this over with now, if it’s all the same to you.”

His expression softened. He let out an airy sigh and, with only a moment of hesitation, closed the space between you. “I’m not angry.” A pair of lean arms wrapped around your waist, his face soon buried in the crook of your neck. You heard him inhale, and did what you could to suppress the shudder that ran up your spine at the thought of him basking in your scent. “I’ve just been… looking forward to it, I suppose. Your taste relaxes me.”

Immediately, you went rigid. “My… taste?”

“Mhm.”

“Neuvillette,” you started, very slowly, giving your own mind time to catch up to the dread slowly building in the pit of your stomach. “Have you been drinking my bathwater?”

He was quiet for a not inconsiderable amount of time.

Finally, he pulled away from you just far enough to speak. “…no?”

For your own sake, you decided to believe him.

Kaveh

“Kaveh.”

“Not now, treasure.”

“Go to bed.”

“I will, in another hour.”

“You need to get some sleep.”

“I’ve already told you – I’m fine.” He narrowed his eyes, expression contorted by concentration. “Knight to B4.”

“Kaveh,” you repeated, leaning across the table. “You were showing me your blueprints.”

“Oh.” He blinked several times, looking over the sheet of blue paper marked with chalk drawings and near indecipherable hand-writing. “Were you impressed?”

Your frown irked, but you swallowed back your exasperation and pushed yourself to your feet. Slowly, you took him by the hand and, when he failed to protest, guided him out of his own seat and towards the room you were usually restrained to, when he wasn’t home. He’d kept himself awake for the past two nights, every moment of the past forty-eight hours devoted to finishing his proposal for a wealthy commissioner’s summer mansion before its upcoming deadline and, now that the coffee had been drained from his system and his adrenaline had been given time to fade, he was practically a shell of a man – all dark circles and hunched posture and disheveled blonde hair.

Sleep deprivation was, by far, the worst thing he could inflict on himself. At least he was happy after he drunk himself into oblivion. This was just depressing; as miserable for him as it was for you.

With a dutifulness you shouldn’t have had to show to your lover-turned-stalker-turned-captor, you brought him to his bed and watched as he collapsed onto it, what little strength he had to hold himself up immediately dissolving. With a sigh, a roll of your eyes, you turned to leave, but a hand lashed out from the crumpled heap and caught you by the wrist. “Stay with me?” His voice was muffled by layers of sheets and blankets, but clear enough. “Please?”

Usually, his bids for affection were met with bitter neutrality or, on your worse days, spiteful condensation. Usually, you would’ve torn yourself out of his hold and made sure he knew that he’d ruined any chance of living out his little domestic fantasy the second he decided his obsession was worth more than your happiness. Usually, you would’ve hated him that much more for daring to ask.

But, he could barely hold his eyes open and when you failed to immediately recoil, the sloppiest, most lovesick smile you’d ever seen plastered itself across his lips. It was his turn to pull you forward, this time; to drag you onto his bed and into his chest. With a satisfied sigh, he slotted his chin against the dip of your shoulder and draped his arms around your waist – an old position. A relic of better times you’d never been strong enough to completely dicard. “When it’s time to draw up the plans for our home,” he mumbled, only half-audible. “I won’t so much as breathe until its perfect.”

You opened your mouth, but didn’t say anything.

He’d already fallen asleep.

Tighnari

He glanced once at the thick packet of ink-marked parchment you’d slammed in front of him before looking back to you, his expression disparaging. “And this is supposed to be…?”

“A custody agreement,” you answered, grinning. “Alhaitham put it together during his last visit.”

“We don’t have any kids.”

“It’s for Collei. If I ever leave you,” and, to be clear, you would be leaving him, as soon as you figured out how to get away from a man who poisoned your tea whenever you so much as suggested entertaining a future that didn’t include him, “I want weekends and summers.”

“She’s nineteen.”

“Which is why we’re letting her pick who she wants to spend holidays with.” You tapped the front page with your knuckles. “Honestly, dear, if you weren’t going to so much as read the documents, we could’ve scheduled this for another day.”

His ears twitched, his tail sweeping across the floor in irritation. “Even if this was legally binding – which, by the way, something assembled by a scribe would not be – I would never give you weekends. That’d be too much travelling for a girl in her condition, and I don’t want her to feel like she comes from a broken home. Moreover, according to Regulation #531 as passed by the Grand Sage last year, you would have to get Collei’s signature before—”

“Check page twenty-seven.”

You watched him scowl as he thumbed through the pages. A second later, his ears flattened against his scalp, and he took to muttering under his breath. “Traitor.”

“If you don’t want your aggression towards the dependent party used against you in court, I’d suggest you sign on page four, seventeen, and thirty-two.”

You left his villa half an hour later with a with a new imprint of his fangs on the side of your throat and a signed document in-hand.

Cyno

“You have kidnapped me.”

“Technically, I was only—”

“You’ve blackmailed me, imprisoned me, and tortured me.”

“You can’t still be hung up on—”

“You’ve branded me with your name, forced me into your bed, and made me play out all your delusional, fucked-up fantasies—” You took a deep breath, pursed your lips. “—but if you show up to a black-tie event wearing that, it will be the worst thing you’ve ever done to me.”

He looked down, as if considering his attire for the first time. He was in his usual uniform – which was to say, shirtless and barefoot, his hair windblown and a fine layer of sand still coating what little he was wearing. You could only be thankful his polearm wasn’t slung across his back, but you knew he’d make it past the door without it. “The way I dress has never been a problem before.”

“There’s a difference between hunting down rouge scholars and going to a banquet being held by a literal god. Archons, Lesser Lord Kusanali herself might be there.” You gasped, dragged your hands over your face. “Everyone who’s ever gone to the Akademiya will absolutely be there.”

For all his many faults, he could never stand to see you in pain. There was a brief delay, a moment of unsure shuffling, then his arms were wrapping around you, his chest slotting against your back has he pulled you against him. “It’ll be alright,” he muttered, speaking into your shoulder. “If anyone so much as attempts to insult you—no, if anyone tries to talk to you at all, I’ll strike them down in the blink of an eyes.”

His comfort was stale, but you forced yourself to relax. At least enough to speak. “You know,” you mumbled, letting your hands drift to your temples. “Dehya was hired by an up-and-coming scholar, a few weeks ago. I’m not sure how long her contract was, but there’s a chance we’ll see her tonight.”

There was a beat of silence, then another.

“Cyno?”

“I’ll change.”

Wriothesley

You could hear him trudging up the metallic stairs to his office; his footsteps heavy enough to drown out the soft music flowing out of his century-old gramophone. His head emerged from the curving staircase, first – his hair somehow more disheveled than its usual state of barely-tamed chaos – then his chest, his tie undone and his collar terribly mangled, as if he’d spent all day indulging the worst of his nervous habits. He was baring his teeth, his pale cheeks flushed with anger and his eyes narrowed into a pointed glare. It wasn’t quite the reaction you’d hoped for (in your wildest dreams, he would’ve managed to sink his beloved fortress before he ever reached you), but it was close enough.

You moved to stand, to greet him with the warm embrace he usually demanded, but he was already in front of you, already pinning you to the back of the lounge you’d been splayed across with a single fist planted less than a hair’s width above your shoulder. “You,” he growled, leaning in close enough for his breath to fan over your skin. “Do you know how many journalistsI had to deal with today? They were everywhere. I couldn’t go a step without tripping over some— over some glorified tabloid.”

“So, your meeting with Monsieur Neuvillette went well?” His scowl deepened, and you let out your most faux innocent laugh – a chiming, bubbling thing he’d never been able to stand. “You shouldn’t scowl like that, love. All those photographers will have to find a new model if you manage to give yourself frown lines.”

He jolted, but forced himself to shut his eyes, to let out a long, ragged breath. When he did face you again, he’d regained a degree of his composure – just enough to meet your smile with his own tight-lipped grin, more teeth than anything. “I’ll let you off easy if you tell me how you did it now. Before I decide it’d be faster to strangle an explanation out of you.”

“I didn’t break any rules, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You paused, folded your hands over your lap. “It was all thanks to our great and benevolent duke. Contacting people outside of the fortress has gotten so much more efficient ever since you decided prisoners should be able to send letters without administrative vetting.”

He buckled visibly, his shoulders falling as he lean towards you, his face soon buried in the dip of your shoulder. “You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.” There was a raspy chuckle, a hand on your thigh, squeezing just hard enough for his anger to shine through the playfulness of the gesture. “I think I’ve earned the rest of the day off, and I think you’ve earned—”

The door to his office swung open before he could finish, a masculine voice calling up from the voice below only a moment later. “Your grace, t-there’s a reporter here to see you! She says she’s been told not to leave until she speaks to your partner!”

“That’ll be Charlotte,” you half-sung. “She seemed like such a nice girl in her letters. It’d be a shame to keep her waiting.”

When he failed to answer, you brought up both hands and cupped his face, cooing as you used your thumbs to quirk the corners of his mouth upward.

“Just remember to smile for the camera this time, alright?”

[lovverletters]

👉👈 yandere serial killer...??? Maybe?? Like just this big scary dude with a mask and a big fuck all weapon like a butcher's knife or something and hes so big and scary but he sees his darling as he's just head over heels in love and obssessed and stalks them and makes sure they are safe.

Maybe leaves gifts as a way to try and court his darling even (trial and error style)

So like he leaves maybe a dead animal like a fucking cat cause he's this kinda survival guy and he's trying to provide food but darling is freaked out, so he tries again with something else maybe bones. Doesn't work. Tries to figure out what they like and tries again with their favorite flower or something.

Like he's out of touch with society cause again big serial killer who likely lives out in the woods, kills people who get to close to his home etc so he's really trying to win over his darling who lives closer to the town/city or something.

Just.... I just love big scary man who is so scary and mean but is ONLY nice and soft to his darling and tries to be so gentle, especially if his darling is much smaller than him.

No pressure if you dont wanna do this! Just!!! Giving out some ideas!

♡♡♡

♡Bunny

Yandere! Serial Killer

A/N : thank you for requesting! I changed a few things if you don't mind💖 this is like an intro for him? I'll write more if people like this dude

T/W : Obsessive behaviour, murder, mentions of dead animal.

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

"─yet another body has been discovered near a park at Heartfelt Avenue this morning. The police were alerted to the scene after a man who was walking his dog stumbled upon the deceased body covered with deep cuts that were shaped into a heart. This marks the twelfth victim of the serial killer, 'Lovelorn' that has left communities in fear──"

The news forecaster were cutted off as [Name] switch the television off. Their stomach churned with uneasiness at the reports of the new killing. With the serial killer still on the loose, god knows who'll be next?

It could be them.

It's a terrifying thought but a probable possibility. All of the bodies were found near their place of living, meaning that the killer is not far from their area. Moving away is not a choice for them, they could barely make enough money to stay afloat.

[Name] will have to put up with the murderous maniac's antics until they were caught and placed behind bars.

"Shit── I forgot I have to cover for Stacey today!" They cursed out, hurriedly changing into their horrendous work uniform.

Working a late shift at a cafe wasn't exactly their choice. [Name] usually worked the day shift── stressful but far better than being all alone at night when there's a lunatic who's going around stabbing people. Their coworker Stacey had an emergency today and had practically begged [Name] to cover for her shift as no one would take up on it.

[Name] don't blame them, no one in their right mind would voluntarily throw themselves in a situation where they would ended up in a news headline.

However, adulting is hard and it drains your sanity slowly and [Name] already lost theirs a long time ago. Plus, they really need more money otherwise they'll have to live off cup noodles.

What ever could go wrong? The killer had just slain a person today, they couldn't possibly attempt to do it again could they?

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Everything went wrong.

It had been mind numbingly boring shift, the cafe were deserted at night with only a few people coming in and getting out as soon as they got their drinks.

[Name] were tempted to just sleep through their shift in the break room. Their boss won't care──probably.

"Can't something interesting happens right now? I'm bored out of my mind──" On cue, the lights suddenly begun flickering before shutting off.

Fuck. They're not bored anymore.

[Name] jolted in their place when the main door slammed to a close and their heart stopping momentarily as they saw a figure running towards the backdoor entrance.

They raced towards the exit──there's no way they're going to investigate it! They value their life more than this store they worked at──and try to pry the door open but discovered to their horror that it has been jammed!

Before they could attempt to break the glass door with a steel chair, they heard a noise from their former place behind the counter. [Name] eyes widened in fear at the sight of the figure they'd seen running earlier.

The man was muscular and had a red horned mask on, in his hand was a large butcher knife that serial killers loves wielding. Had their life not being in danger, [Name] would've laughed at how cliché this situation they're in.

"H─hey buddy, that's a nice looking knife you got there" [Name] says as they held onto the steel chair tighter, ready to wield it as a weapon if needed to.

The killer only stalked further in silence, ignoring [Name]'s remarks. He only stopped once they reached a good distance from each other and [Name] were confused, is he fucking with them?

Their confusion only furthers when the killer drops a fucking dead rabbit in front of them. Horrified beyond belief, [Name] looked at the horned masked man who stared at them as if he's waiting for a praise.

"Wh──wha..?" They could only croaked out timidly.

"It's for you" The killer spoke in his deep voice, elaborating no further.

Their eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as he dropped a human heart next to the dead rabbit. [Name] felt their knees weakened as they fell on the ground, disturbed at the sight before them.

Mustering whatever courage they have left within them, they asked the killer that's towering over them.

"Wha──what are these f──for?" Stumbling over their words from how terrified they were.

The killer, holding a flower in his hand──they looked freshly cut from the stem──lowered to their level of ground and spoke in his gravely voice that's strangely laced with a certain gentleness and love.

"M' courting you cause' I love you"

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

[d-targaryenshoe]

Affectionate Travels - Benedict Bridgerton

Word count: 1469

Summary: Newlyweds may find it hard to keep their hands to themselves, i'm not wrong am I not?

Warnings: S M U T

As the carriage rumbled along the muddy country road, you gazed out the window, lost in thought.

 The honeymoon had been lovely, of course, a whirlwind of devotion and pleasure, as you and Benedict had explored the lush vineyards of Burgundy and the cobblestone streets of Paris.

 But now that you were on your way back home to England, you couldn't help but feel a strange mix of anticipation and apprehension. 

You wondered what life would be like now that you were truly married, and if your love would be able to withstand the trials and tribulations that were sure to come your way.

A gust of wind swept through the open window, carrying with it the scent of damp soil and the distant sound of laughter.

 You turned your head to glance at your husband, who was buried deep in conversation with your coachman. 

He looked handsome, even with his hair disheveled and his jacket unbuttoned.

 A small smile played at the corners of your lips as you remembered your wedding day, when he'd first seen you in your wedding dress, his eyes widening with surprise and admiration.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the leather upholstery creaking beneath you.

The ride back home was going to be long and arduous, but you were determined to make the best of it. 

Maybe you could simply lean back against the squabs and close your eyes, relishing the gentle sway of the carriage and the feeling of being wrapped up in his arms.

You let out a contented sigh as you snuggled closer to your husband, your cheek resting against his broad shoulder. 

You could feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his shirt, and his muscles tensed as you ran your fingers through his hair.

The rhythmic clickety-clack of the horse's hooves on the road soon lulled you into a peaceful sleep, and you didn't stir even when the carriage came to a stop.

It wasn't until you felt Benedict's lips pressed against your neck that you awoke with a start.

"What are you doing?" you murmured, your voice hoarse from sleep.

"Just making sure you're pleased," he replied with a chuckle, his breath warm against your skin.

You let out a small laugh, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "I am now."

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Good. Because I was thinking we could pass the time more...entertainingly."

You felt a shiver of anticipation run down your spine.

 "Oh?" you breathed, your heart racing.

Benedict slipped his hand beneath your dress, his fingers tracing a path up your thigh. "Yes. Why don't we relish our last few moments to ourselves, in this carriage?"

You gasped, your body responding instinctively to his touch. 

You arched your back, pressing yourself against his hand. 

"Here?" you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. "Now?"

Benedict smiled, his eyes darkening as he gazed down at you. "Yes, my love. Right here."

With practiced ease, he shifted your positions, maneuvering you so that you were straddling his lap.

 His other hand found its way to your breast, cupping it through your chemise.

 You moaned, your hips moving in time with his thrusts as he guided his erection to your entrance.

The carriage rocked and swayed with the movement, but neither of you cared. 

You were lost in the heat of the moment, the thrill of being caught in the act.

 Your nails dug into his shoulders, your back arching as you felt the familiar pressure building within you.

As your lovemaking intensified, the sounds of the horses and the creaking of the carriage seemed to fade away, leaving you in a world of your own. 

The leather upholstery beneath you groaned in protest, the carriage rocking wildly with each thrust.

Benedict buried his face in your neck, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought to control his desire.

 Your body trembled with each thrust, your muscles tensing as you neared the point.

 The carriage rocked wildly, the horses whinnied in protest, but you were oblivious to anything but your own need.

Your movements became more frantic, more urgent, as the pleasure built within you. 

You threw your head back, letting out a shuddering cry of release, your body arching tight against your husband's. 

He followed soon after, his breath hot on your ear as he groaned out his release.

Your hearts pounded wildly, your skin flushed as you clung to each other, trying to catch your breath.

 The carriage finally came to a halt, the horses' harnesses creaking and groaning from their exertion.

 The air inside was thick with the scent of your sweat and the tang of your lovemaking.

You leaned back against the squabs, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. 

You looked up at your husband, your eyes locked, and felt a rush of affection and contentment wash over you.

 "I think," you whispered, "we should do that more often."

Benedict smiled, wiping the sweat from his brow. 

"Yes," he agreed, "I think you're correct." 

He reached up to straighten your hair, his fingers brushing against your cheek. 

"Perhaps," he continued, his voice low and husky, "when we get home, we could find a more comfortable spot to continue our celebration."

You felt a shiver of anticipation run down your spine. 

"I think that's a wonderful idea." you glanced out the window, taking in the familiar scenery as you pulled into the driveway.

 "It's good to be married to you, Benedict."

He smiled, leaning in to kiss you. "Likewise, my love."

As the carriage came to a halt, the driver opened the door and stepped down, coming around to help you descend. 

You took Benedict's hand, allowing him to help you down from the carriage. 

The air was cool and crisp, carrying with it the scent of autumn leaves and wood smoke. 

You made your way up the steps to the front door, your hands still clasped together.

The butler, Mr. Jenkins, opened the door at your approach, bowing slightly. "Welcome home, my lord, my lady."

Benedict nodded in reply, his eyes never leaving your face. 

"Thank you, Jenkins." He glanced around, taking in the grand entrance hall with its marble floors and ornate ceiling. "I trust all is in order?"

"Yes, my lord. Everything is just as you left it."

You continued through the hall, the servants falling into step behind you.

 You felt a sense of contentment wash over you as you walked hand-in-hand with your husband, the warmth from your lovemaking still lingering between them. 

You couldn't help but wonder what other adventures you would share, what other memories you would create together.

As you entered the grand sitting room, you were struck by its cozy atmosphere. 

A fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the rich wood paneling and softly lit sconces. 

A plush rug covered the floor, the furniture arranged invitingly around it. 

You could almost imagine curling up on the sofa with a book and a cup of tea, spending the afternoon lost in the pages.

"Would you like something to drink, my lady?" Mr. Jenkins asked, interrupting your thoughts. 

"Perhaps some tea or a glass of wine?"

"Wine sounds lovely, thank you, Jenkins," you replied. 

You glanced at Benedict, who nodded in agreement. 

You exchanged a smile before the servants withdrew, giving you a moment of privacy.

You moved closer to the fireplace, warming your hands by the dancing flames. 

The room was beautiful, but it was the feeling of being with Benedict that truly made it special. 

You looked up at him as he stood at the window, gazing out at the garden beyond.

 There was a distant look in his eyes as if he were lost in thought.

"Are you alright, dearest?" you asked softly.

He turned to you, a small smile on his lips. 

"I was just thinking about the future, my dear. All the possibilities that lie before us." He walked over to you, taking your hands in his. 

"I can't wait to see what we'll accomplish together."

You felt a surge of affection for your husband. Despite your differences, you complemented each other perfectly. 

You knew that your partnership would only continue to grow stronger with time.

"I'm looking forward to finding out, Mr. Bridgerton," you said, leaning into him. 

"And I think we should start by finding that comfortable spot we were talking about earlier." you winked, your lips curving into a mischievous grin.

Benedict chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. 

"I believe I remember what you had in mind. Very well, my lady. Lead the way." He took your hand, entwining your fingers as you began to wander through the sitting room, searching for the perfect spot to continue your celebration.

[ennn]

Hold the fuck up, this isn’t a real trial.

In retrospect a number of things about the episode, especially the coven's characterisation felt off... and now on rewatch I'm pretty certain this isn't a trial of the Road at all – it's the Salem Seven punishing Agatha.

Clues under the cut with some spoilers from future scenes in trailers / promo clips.

Clue #1 – No screen aspect ratio change

As @wolfcracker points out, for the two previous trials the screen ratio changed once they entered the place (going full screen). We didn't get that for this cabin.

Clue #2 – No phase of the moon decoration at the entrance

We've had these obviously built into the previous trial entrances but there's no sign of one for this cabin.

The coven's so panicked getting chased by the locusts they don't notice it running in. The door is made of wooden planks with tiny gaps in between and you don't see a sign of any moon on the other side either.

Notably, in a trailer and promo shot, you see the moon featured prominently again for an upcoming trial, when Agatha and Billy cross a stone bridge structure and approach an entrance (presumably of the tower).

Clue #3 – Each trial has an element, this cabin doesn't

This was something that seemed odd even before this episode, we saw five weird horror movie-trope settings – assumed to be trials – in posters and promotional materials but there are only four identified elements for the Road.

Sure you could have more moon phases (like we do irl) but the Ballad that is central the show only mentions four elements: fire, water, earth, and air.

Our first two trials had strong ties with an element: if you failed you'd be killed by that element or something associated with it i.e. drowning or burning.

Now from the promos, an upcoming trial with the anti-gravity effect going on in a tower fits well with the air element. And the threat of death here is associated with going into the air (spikes in the ceiling).

Notice from the flying forms that this trial does go full-frame like the first two we certainly had (clue #1).

Another upcoming trial we know of (that looks like a morgue or asylum-like place) can be linked with the earth given that we see rocks and earth falling in a shot. Death by crushing earth.

This cabin had no element associated with it at all. The threat of death was by... Agatha siphoning your magic? Or in the case of Agatha, to be tortured forever by her mom?

Clue #4 – The trial area doesn't necessarily keep out the Salem Seven

From the promo shots of presumably the air trial (see above), we clearly see the Salem Seven in the tower attacking them. Why then did Locust and the rest of the Seven leave them alone in the cabin when they were right behind them?

Other sus elements

OK, these are more ambiguous and could be the result of bad writing but here's the other stuff in this "trial" that just seems off

The coven turns really really quickly on Agatha and viciously. And they literally just rode broomsticks where it's mentioned it's "about selflessness" and "we fly together or not at all". I mean yeah the people might lie but they were enough of a team that the magic for the broomsticks worked.

The trial's instruction was to just "punish Agatha"? That's oddly specific and pointed. Previous trials had the entire coven in danger (e.g. everyone had to drink the poison). Between this and the above point it feels like someone is mad at Agatha for killing lots of witches over the years. Some people like the Salem Seven.

The trials so far have tested the witch's ability in the craft (potion-making, protection) and how they work together. How does punishing or sacrificing Agatha align with the Road's test of "Burn and brew with coven true / And glory shall be thine" -- which we were just reminded of last week.

Jen calling and dismissing Billy as a familiar is... more mean-ness that I'd expect. You could make a case for her disliking Agatha, but the amount of venom in this moment towards the boy for trying is surprising considering she was trying to watch out for him not too long ago. Of course, it could be her frustration and fear in that moment boiling over.

Pretty much everything at the end after Billy snapping and going all dark and vengeful.

Ultimately we don't know what the Salem Seven can do. Sure they shriek like Nazgûl but turning into animals isn't the most threatening thing? So, bad writing and copium or is this show being truly tricksy and reality-bending?