#and their statements made here

[team5ds]

the worst part is i can't even say he's wrong. they certainly did figure out how to contribute the city by joining the wrgp. but like. this is one of those things where it literally does not make sense. this is insane levels of logic. "we're not sure how to contribute to the city. we think entering a magic the gathering tournament will help." like. imagine saying that fr when your parents ask what you're going to do after you graduate college. "idk. thought i'd play card games and figure it out, man"

[itwaslegendary]

Since I’m not seeing many posts about what’s happening in Venezuela, I will make one myself. Please do not turn a blind eye to their ongoing crisis.

First I will put you into context, please note that all this information is taken from posts, threads and statements made by Venezuelans so I will hyperlink each one of my sources.

From 2002 to 2013, Hugo Chávez was the president of Venezuela. Not only did he ruin the country’s economy, imprison people and remove liberty of speech in the country, but he also changed the constitution, allowing unlimited reelection. His regime became a dictatorship disguised as a democracy. Here’s an entire page about this period. (And you can read more searching “chavismo”)

After his death in 2013, Nicolás Maduro took the presidency. Venezuelans started protesting and, as a response, they were repressed and killed, universities were burned down and Venezuela became massively poor, people lacked basic needs (supermarkets were empty, increasing famine and malnutrition), hospitals lacked resources and, consequently, illnesses spread and infant mortality rates increased severely.

This Sunday, July 28th, 2024, elections were held and Venezuelans voted for Edmundo González to be the next president of the country. Exit polls expected him to win the elections.

Later, the revealed results were that Maduro had won with the 51,2% votes, while Edmundo González had only 44,2%. But, as of right now, already 75% of the electoral records confirm that Edmundo González was, in fact, the chosen candidate, meaning that Maduro once again cheated on the elections. This is electoral fraud. This is not a democracy, this is a dictatorship.

Now, Venezuelans are protesting and the government are once again repressing them. Civilians are being persecuted, attacked and killed. Innocent people are being arrested. The government is cutting their communication and are planning on cutting the electricity next.

I urge you to check this thread on Twitter by @/postmortemria. Her account is full of information about Venezuela and their crisis, please check her posts and share them to spread the voice. Try to raise Venezuelans’ voices and donate to them if you can.

At the moment, there aren’t many ways to help other than speaking up, but under this tweet you can find many talented artists and commissions are their way to make some money to pay for basic human needs. If you can, think about commissioning a piece or donating to them.

In addition, here’s another tweet with information to donate to the people affected in the protests. They’re in desperate need of assistance so anything can help.

[teh-nos]

and another thing!!!

"doesn't rtd understand this show is about change?"

no? no, he clearly doesn't and he never has. his ideal doctor who is rose tyler (lbr his mary-sue, because however much i am told not to use that term she clearly is one) and a doctor that looks like david tennant and everything else is Wrong and we must constantly be told that. 10 "mourning" rose that much is not in-character, actually, it is not an unavoidable issue, it's a deliberate writing choice to Not Let Go of rtd's one true companion. so martha jones gets fucked over (again, a choice was made to focus on her love for the doctor and how he could never ever want her), and rtd doesn't care and neither did the fandom because they too thought that rose being gone was a glitch to be fixed. because rtd fucking encouraged them to.

so rose is somehow in s3 even though she isn't, and then she's back in s4 where she is given a man who looks like david tennant. to look after. and 'heal'. (aside: no, the 9th doctor was healed by running into people and things that made him confront the past. rose was just a nice distraction for him between those brief therapy sessions. yet she's given the credit for them. because of course the one true companion must have done that!)

and then when he has to write out david tennant... *sigh* off we go to see rose fucking tyler again after spending the rest of our time being sad about not being david tennant anymore, and he goes out COMPLAINING that he can't face not being david tennant in the tardis with rose "russell t" tyler. and then you wonder why people stopped watching at that point? you wonder why they still complain about the eleventh doctor not being david tennant? they were told to!

and then rtd comes back. and so does david tennant. and... yes we can all see where this is going HOW DID YOU NOT? rtd has never been willing to move on and accept change. he hates having to change things in doctor who. this has been obvious since 2007. but fandom liked martha being fucked over in the name of rose-and-david-tenannt so they just ignored it.

[pandemonini]

some rambling about nagi and reo's relationship because I'm bored

The discourse around these two is once again piping hot with the release of chapter 306. Originally I wanted to make a whole essay complete with exhibits about this but I honestly feel too lazy so I'm just going to go off in a rant instead. (Maybe I'll do the essay some day, though. They deserve it cause their relationship is more complicated and in-depth than most BL I've read).

I want to preface this by saying that as annoying as I find the whole biased pov issue between the fans of the two, this kind of thing isn't exclusive to the two of them when it comes to fandom. It's almost always the case that whenever there is a pair of flawed characters interacting, there is a tendency to have a bigger bias for one of them regardless of the actual canon interactions and whatever issues the two of them may have. But I will say that I find it more frustrating in this case because for once I can't even blame the author for being vague or inconsistent. Kaneshiro is Very clear and consistent with the way he writes these two more so than anyone else in the series imo, it's why they're my favourites, and then I'm like 'oh let's see what everyone else thinks' and then immediately regret my choice.

The thing about Nagi and Reo's relationship is that a lot of Reo's earlier actions, especially at the starting point of their acquaintance, would've come off way worse if Nagi was a girl. Showing up in front of his house unannounced in a fancy car, chasing him around school grounds, basically wearing him down into agreeing with him, none of that would've been okay if Nagi was a female character. When Reo says that he forced Nagi into playing football, it's obvious that atp he's become conscious of the fact that his earlier actions weren't entirely healthy approaches to interacting with someone and getting them interested in your hobby. And this is a more realistic viewing but it gets even worse when you consider their social standings, Reo being the scion of a billionaire while Nagi doesn't even have any family members around to protect him. But the general response to Reo actually apologising for those things was utter dismissal of the words, because Nagi himself disregarded them and only ever expressed gratefulness to Reo.

But here is the thing: as a reader, we're not always supposed to see things from the characters perspective, that's why we have literary techniques like dramatic irony. We, as the readers, are supposed to perceive that as a moment of reflection for both of them where they finally become transparent about their feelings. That Nagi disregarded that apology isn't proof that Reo didn't do anything wrong, because Nagi the character would not think that way. Nagi sees him as the light of his life, rightfully so because at the end of the day, the mistakes Reo made back then don't define their entire relationship, which clearly means more to Nagi than even football. That was always the case because what brought color to Reo's life was football, but it was Reo who brought color to Nagi's, football is just an extension of that.

It brings me back to what Nagi' voice actor said, about how Nagi ultimately feels more strongly about Reo than Reo does about him. This was ALWAYS the case, because the transactional nature of their relationship is something Reo established whereas Nagi was clearly becoming emotionally attached to him very quickly and very hard. And it's part of the really good nuances in their relationship that this isn't immediately obvious, owing to the way Reo is more expressive and passionate while Nagi is more stoic and subtle.

A lot of people like to point to that scene in the prequel chapter where Reo says Nagi is irreplaceable as a moment of foreshadowing, and they're not wrong about that, but they Are wrong about what this moment is foreshadowing, or at least the full context of it. Because the fact of the matter is that Nagi NEVER replaced Reo, so it couldn't be foreshadowing THAT. So what was the foreshadowing about? It's actually very obvious but it's the kind of thing a good chunk of fans like to overlook, and it's how Reo was ONLY talking about Nagi's value in the context of football, not about Nagi himself, as a person. He says, verbatim, that he would not have approached Nagi if it weren't for his football talent. What this scene foreshadowed is Reo's attachment to Nagi growing far beyond the boundaries of that quid pro quo situation--that the moment he felt that HE was being replaced, it mattered to him not because of the defeat he experienced, but because he lost Nagi Seishirou because of it.

I always loved the Second Selection arc because it would've been so easy for knshr to just reduce that situation to a pompous rich boy losing the toy he picked up, but instead he made sure to keep it more grounded, to treat the characters actually realistically: two teenage boys with wildly different yet so similar personalities ending up inevitably clashing because they never properly parsed through their feelings or established the boundaries of their relationship (which isn't exactly atypical for teenagers). But lo and behold, the fandom did all the work for him in terms of placing 100% of the blame squarely on the shoulders of one of them.

Going back to what I said about how this kind of situation where two characters are paired and then have a disagreement between them always being reduced to a mess of biased discourse, what I always hate about it is that it completely diminishes what I personally find most enjoyable when I read something, and it's character growth.

For all that the non-reddit dudebro side of fandom likes to call out the reddit dudebros for always just caring about who wins the most games and not about the characterisation, a lot of them seem to think the only maturing Reo had to do is him getting better at football and his self-esteem that ended up in shambles after the fallout with Nagi.

Which, okay, let's address that.

There is no arguing that what Nagi did then was WRONG and that he owed Reo an apology way sooner than he ended up giving it, but I also feel like we're not considering exactly WHY Nagi walking away hit Reo so hard. And again, I don't even know why there is a misunderstanding here when the text very straightforwardly explains an important reason for why Reo had a catastrophic breakdown was because this moment was the first time he had something actually taken from him, when all his life he was used to just owning whatever he wanted. And I have no idea why it has to be explained how that's a REALLY fucked up and unhealthy way of thinking about another person. We literally see Reo during that monologue thinking about all the awards and toys he would receive growing up, THAT is what losing Nagi is being compared to. When I say that their relationship was always complicated and they're always been flawed, I'm not talking about Reo being too unforgiving or potentially unreasonable. Reo had all the right in the world to be furious at Nagi for walking away like that, that was NOT the issue. Reo's fault with regard to that whole thing is that he himself established that relationship of mutual benefit (that's actually more to HIS benefit since Nagi had yet to genuinely enjoy football up to that point, he enjoyed being with Reo but that's something Reo didn't seem entirely conscious of) and then got angry when the person on the other hand didn't play by his unwritten rules.

And again, YES Nagi should've handled that better, but I genuinely believe that no amount of him gently explaining himself would've stopped Reo from freaking out. Because Reo inherently had that issue, stemming from his unhealthy family life where clearly his parents thought shoving material wealth in his face is enough affection on a normal Tuesday, where he tied his own value to ownership and to winning. It was always ingrained in his psyche that he is perfect, that he HAS to be perfect, and so Nagi leaving would've always been "Nagi is abandoning me to be with someone better" in his head and would've set him off. And that's where the self-esteem issues come from, that's why you don't just spoil your kids endlessly in a materialistic way. It fucks up their perception of normal human interaction.

(Sounds familiar doesn't it? It almost seems like Nagi and Reo parallel each other, sharing similar problems yet in contrasting ways.)

I don't have any grand statement to finish this off with other than that I don't understand how you can love Reo without paying attention to how he grew out of his very real flaws, that stripping him of those flaws and mistakes just takes away so much of the high that came with that emotional speech him and Nagi had when Nagi lost, why it was so significant to have him say the things he did. How the two of them came full circle to the very beginning of their relationship, the mistakes they made, and how much they meant to each other, and watching that culminate into another heartbreak because unfortunately that's also a normal teenage experience.

Neither Nagi nor Reo are master manipulators out to abuse each other. They both did objectively wrong things, the mistakes they made don't define their relationship but they didn't just go away with the wind either. They never started off the right foot, and in the toxic environment of Blue Lock, it was inevitable that it would come crashing down when Reo still didn't let go of his insecurities and Nagi still let fear keep him from fully embracing football and Reo.

Reo and Nagi didn't fail because they depended on each other. They failed because they never defined the nature of their dependence, never fully became in sync with each other, just enough to work briefly but end up bumping against each other and tripping at a critical moment.

(P.S. if you happen to see this and get mad that I mainly focused on Reo' faults in this, just go to any other tag to read someone bitching about Nagi. Trust me, you'll find them.)

[habitual-truant]

as a persona fan. i HATE atlus. like, theyre always SOOOO close to having really good social commentary on like, pretty much anything in general i guess. but. they pussy out and it has the opposite effect!! like, biggest example that i actually have well formulated thoughts over is persona 4.. i wrote a long ass essay type thing that id honestly like to rewrite now that my thoughts are more solidified on this but, tl;dr… :

kanji isnt gay and naoto isnt trans. kanji’s story is about accepting that hes got feminine traits and learning to stop internalizing what everyone says about him to be true. naoto’s is about accepting that she is a girl, and she IS everything that people look down on her for, and learning to stop rejecting herself just so she isnt disrespected and dismissed by others.

kanji isnt gay and naoto isnt trans, but they should have been. being queer is very obviously a theme in their stories, and without looking deeper into the characters and their arcs, on the surface level, the story is saying that they’re learning to accept that they ARENT queer. which is pretty clearly homophobic and transphobic.

the entire game is about accepting yourself for who you truly are. for the character that is EXPLICITLY stated to be gay and for the character who EXPLICITLY lives socially as a male despite being born a girl to both have their true selves actually be “normal” is… counterintuitive. while it does fit within the theme of accepting yourself, it’s saying to accept yourself as “normal” and “correct”, not as someone who doesnt fit into societal norms. it undermines the idea of being true to yourself. it’s SO close to being a great message that anyone, no matter who they are, can relate to, but it singles out the unusuals, the people who really need to hear that it’s ok to be whoever you are. i could go on and on about how it’s honestly impressive that the writers managed to miss the mark by such a small amount that it ends up completely undermining the entire thing, but it would be redundant (just like my use of the word ‘undermine’ within two run-on sentences..), and i want to take this back to my original point

the writers at atlus are very, very skilled. its amazing, i really really respect them. but at the same time, i think that their ability to write amazing characters and themes and weave them together into a universe with such inconsistent rules is exactly what makes this so infuriating. i KNOW they’re 100% capable of not being misogynistic in their portrayal of women, i KNOW they’re capable of not being homophobic, i KNOW they can take topics like misogyny and homophobia and transphobia and explore the reasoning behind why people are close minded and hateful, and how it affects people who are at the receiving end of the hatred.

but they dont, because either the writers themselves are prejudiced, or what i think is faaaarrr more likely, the executives think it’s too “risky” to talk about and criticize bigotry, and that they want it to be as palatable to everyone as possible. unfortunately that means no gay people, no trans people, no “controversial” minorities in general.. sure, we can have a few complex and well written women as a treat, but they either have to be fanservice or largely irrelevant to the rest of the plot.

no conclusion paragraph this isnt english class

thanks if u read my 11:00 pm hyperfocus fueled rant i am sending you joy and happiness and good things

[alt0stratuscloud]

hey parkciv fans. especially mavbo ones who're ill about evbo's godhood, EMF's name being what it is, and about trust.

go listen to the song "not entirely alone". it's sooooo

[spotaus]

New Age AU (An Order to Things)

Hello hello and welcome back! I... write the first part of this like a month ago and then came back and wrote the rest over the past few days! Ancha and I were talking about getting some perspective on the rest of the Castle while Night is still adjusting to his new body, so here we are! A little mash-up of what the Knights have been doing on a regular day only a little while in to Night being small!

no edits, no rereads, fuck it we ball!

(@ancha-aus @mutzelputz and @papiliovolens hello again! Hope you don't mind the random @ and as always if it gets annoying just lemee know and I'll cease hehe!)

Oh, and a bonus shout-out to Ancha because I would've completely fumbled an entire section here, but she recalled something from one of my many strange rambles and saved my life in the lore continuity department :]

“Is everyone here?” Dust’s voice was steady and cut through the chatter of the room.

Horror watched as heads turned to face Dust, where he stood at the ‘front’ of the room. The room was actually curved, a nice oval that allowed a long, round, bar-like table to curve along the outskirts and sit up to fifty people along its run. Across from where Dust was standing was the door. Where Dust stood now, well, that was usually where the King sat. They had shifted the ornate seat back and away for the time being, since no one thought it’d be right for Dust to sit in it. Even if he was filling in for Nightmare today. 

Those seated, they were Nightmare’s council. Some seats had been barren since before Horror had arrived, a lot had been filled since then, Killer had told them that the population had seen a steep decline after he showed up. From what Horror had heard, it was probably for the best that it had been rebuilt almost from scratch. The council now was made up largely of common people. Monsters and Humans, each a representative from their own cities and townships who had both been chosen by their people and screened by the King himself. They weren’t proper or well-spoken sometimes, but they always seemed to have their people’s best interests at heart, so he figured the king didn’t mind it much. Actually, maybe their informal habits made them all the more appealing to him? Horror could never quite tell. Besides, he usually wasn’t present for these unless the farming representatives were present, and today they seemed woefully absent. Normally it would be Killer or Dust here where he was standing near the King’s seat. But, Killer was helping watch over the King while Ccino caught up on his own work, Cross was scheduled for training right now, and Dust was the one talking, so here he was. 

“Good.” Dust spoke up again, very shortly, as the group quieted. 

Horror noticed Dust had a booklet open on the table before him. Horror recognized the handwriting in the pages, even if he couldn’t read any of the words from such a distance. Those dizzying swirls were the familiar penmanship of their King. King Nightmare must have sent Dust with instructions, or maybe a list of topics to address. 

“Our King will not join us today. I am here on his behalf. Trust me, news will return to him.” Dust explained briefly, and neither of them missed the way a few of the council looked between each other. Nightmare had been out of the public eye for almost a week and a half now. “Any questions?”

Dust’s eyelights traveled to his left, where a hand was raised barely into the air. A human sat there, Horror didn’t recognize them, but it seemed like Dust did. He gestured shortly to him and said, “Damien?” As a prompt to get the man speaking.

As Horror had learned, it was customary to stand when you spoke at these events. Everyone, aside from the King, had a cushioned stool which tended to be easier to raise out of and sit on again. The human, Damien, slipped backward off his stool and rose maybe an inch higher than he had been sitting. 

“Sir Panther,” He addressed Dust with a slightly nervous voice, “We in the council are grateful for your presence and for listening to our pleas, but some of us present feel that the timing of our King’s absence poses a danger to some of our peoples.” 

Damien shoved a strand of dark hair out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ear as he continued with a surprising amount of confidence for someone who seemed to be questioning their king. “While we trust his decisions, we find that our people are growing restless and weary without plans in place to rebuild our shelters. The last flood which passed through was not four days ago, and the letter arrived today more frantic than the last. Is there any hope that we may soon be graced by the King’s presence once again?” He watched Dust’s reaction as he still stood.

Dust, though, had a pokerface of steel. As long as Horror had known him he was always a closed book. Or, maybe more like he had a bottle, but broke the top of the cork off inside the opening, so nothing ever made it out. That was Dust. Horror couldn’t even blame him, with all he was dealing with it was impressive how neutral he could remain. Horror had no doubt this Damien man had no idea what it was Dust was thinking at the moment. Was he happy? Upset? 

Before Dust could answer, another hand shot up, followed by a scrambling sound as this other figure, this one to the right, moved faster. This time, it was a monster Horror recognized vaguely, if only because he believed this was one of the few noble lines who got to stay after the ‘spring cleaning’ as Killer called it once. She was a bee monster, one who lived in the capital, but her family resided over some borderland city. She was younger and a lot quicker to speak.

“Mister Damien is underselling how dangerous the floods have become again, Sir Panther!” She hurriedly said. Across the room, Damien seemed to pale under the loud and shrill voice of this noble girl. Dust nodded to her, prompting a continuation of an explanation. “The floods rolled through my town too, though we had time to prepare thanks to their warnings so the damage was less severe. It sounds like, though, many houses were completely swept away, and among them were Mister Damien’s family home. He has two daughters, you know that? They ended up in my town when the water swept them there. That’s how I know.”

She seemed startled when Damien seemed to slump over his stool a bit, planting his hand on the seat as he looked to her. 

“My little girls? They’re alright?” He asked out of turn, his voice different. A bit weaker. 

The noble girl, was her name Marie? She nearly jumped forward as though she were going to close the gap across the room, her wings buzzing at her back. “Yes! Yes, they’re alright! My mother spotted them in our river and was able to scoop them up.” She replied almost excitedly, entirely blind to the sickly relief on Damien’s face. “Mother said they were very smart girls, they had a hold of a piece of wood and used it to float!” 

The two seemed to silently revel in the news, Marie proud to have shared it, and Damien grateful to have heard it. Neither of them was taking in the looks of worry permeating their fellow councilmen, though those nearest to Damien did extend hands of support to his shoulders. Comfort. 

“Mm. Good your family is safe.” Dust said, once again reminding the council of his presence. It had so quickly been forgotten in the exchange of information and startling news. 

Damien seemed to jolt at that, and he quickly made a bow towards Dust with a quiet, ‘Thank you, my Knight. Sorry, my Knight.’ escaping his chest in quick succession. 

“Glad you brought that up. The King isn’t sure when he’ll be back here.” He paused a second, “Sent me with a list of announcements. One was for your cities, got word same time as you.” Dust raised the little booklet off the table before him then. The leather cover, though Horror couldn’t see it he knew what it looked like, had the kingdom’s crest pressed into its surface. Dust didn’t glance at the pages, though. Just showed it off for a few breaths. “Said he’s sending out a contracting team. Capital’s best. They’ll be headed out and nightfall to Peechrey first. Build some drainage. Then rebuild the buildings. Move onto Pinoc after or split sooner, depending on resources. Time.” He debriefed. 

Damien and Marie were still standing, their discussion was seemingly not over. Questions unanswered. 

“I- I am grateful that our King has already prepared, it was foolish of me to assume, yet…” He took a breath, maybe trying to put together a thought. “Drainage? Should the repairs not occur first? What of those with no home?” 

Valid question. If Horror were in this guy’s shoes, he’d probably be asking the same exact things. Dust seemed unbothered by the extra questioning and simply nodded along.

“Would, but it’s flood season. King said drainage first so repairs’ll stay sturdy. Just one fix instead of twenty.” Dust explained with a little shrug. “Those without houses? Take them in. Neighbors help neighbors, till we fix the big issues. Least we can ask.” The way Dust said it wasn’t forceful, or mean-spirited, yet it seemed to make Damien stand down. 

“I… Understand, my Knight.” He said briefly. 

It seemed he was about to sit when a hand raised from beside Marie. A human woman, one which Horror did fully recognize. Chase. She was one of the people who Crop had introduced him to during the call-outs for farmers willing to experiment with farming methods. That had been Horror’s first big project at the King’s side, and it had been going well so far. Slow, but well. 

“My Knight, if I may offer.” She received a nod of approval from Dust. “My village is small, an’ about an hour’s ride by horse to yours, but my people live on a plateau and would be more than willing to house any of yours who might need a place to stay for a time. We’d just ask for an extra hand with the harvest when time comes around.” She suggested, looking to Damien for an answer.

Damien looked right back at her for a few breaths, a little stunned. Horror had found, unlike many of these people, that the farmers who he and Crop had managed to gather for the experimental farming? They were good people from tight-knit communities. Visiting their small villages and farms reminded him much of home each time. Keeping crops and animals requires a lot of fortitude, wit, and compassion. More than anyone gave them credit for, usually. In moments of crisis, if he couldn’t be here with his family, he would choose a farming village over all else. …It seemed like Chase was living up to the high praise Horror hadn’t even realize he’d assigned to her years ago. 

“A-are you certain that is all you would ask in return? I fear that Miss Marie was correct in stating that the damages are far worse than I first described. We have at least fifty, perhaps more, who would be needing shelter and resources. We cannot push that upon your people for only a favor of labor.” Damien seemed like he was taking the cautious route. 

Horror couldn’t necessarily blame him, he wouldn’t want to be the reason his town was indebted either. Though, he did have half a mind to defend his colleague. She wouldn’t offer something like that if she and her folks couldn’t handle it. 

“ ‘Course that’s all I’d ask! We got plenty of space, as long as a few of your folks wouldn’t mind taking turns in the lofts. Plus the food shouldn’t be an issue. We mostly export the extra we don’t need to other towns for trade, but there should be enough surplus to feed that many extra mouths.” Chase belted those words with a pride that Horror had seen on many of the farmers lately. Her chest puffed a bit as she placed her hands on her hips. “Plus, don’t hurt that we’ve got the Knights here listenin’ to us make the deal. If I tried anything tricky with it I know Sir Lion over there wouldn’t let me weasel my way out of it!” 

Chase nodded her head in Horror’s direction. He didn’t expect for any eyes to turn to him during this meeting beyond the nervous glances every once in a while. He figured it must’ve been shocking to see him here the first time, and it probably hadn’t gotten much easier for them since. He found himself, regrettably, making direct eye-contact with Damien. The man looked frazzled still. Like he was regretting bringing up the topic at all. 

“Mm. She’s right.” He agreed, hoping it sounded half as light-hearted as he’d meant as it echoed from under his mask. “It’s… also a fair trade. Harvest season gets…” He lifted a hand a bit, searching for the words he was looking for. “Busy. Messy, when there are too many fields to harvest and not… not enough skilled hands to pick. Risk losing a lot of crop to…” Again he paused, but for a shorter span. “Over-ripening. Or drying out. Been trying to find a good way to gather it all for a few seasons now, right?” Horror finally broke his stare with Damien to glance over to Chase. 

She seemed to be beaming from over where she stood. She ran a hand through her short-cropped black hair with a slight laugh. 

“Exactly, My Knight! So, not entirely an unselfish offer, but we scratch your back, you scratch ours! It’d do us a big favor seein’ if getting more hands to help would really gather it all or if we’re gonna need to downscale.” She went between the two, though after looking to Horror again, she seemed to realize that the both of them had gone off-topic from the point of the question. The farming meeting was set for about a month from now, this was the civilian-based meeting. They could save shop talk for then. 

In her resounding silence, eyes all turned. Not to Damien, but to Dust. Normally it’d be Nightmare making this choice, of course, but instead? Today it was him. 

He seemed to look at the parties in question. He was calm. At some point he’d opened the little journal, but kept it flat on the desk away from any prying eyes of the council. He seemed to consult it shortly, and the room’s silence spanned on for nearly a minute as he seemed to debate silently with his thoughts. 

Then.

“Since the offer is made, it falls in guidelines for aide. The King trusts all of the council, but Chase still needs to draft a contract.” He finally announced. “Movement can begin if Damien agrees. Sign the paper later. After the King looks it over.” He said with hardly a moment more of hesitation.

Damien’s mouth was agape for a moment, before he nodded. 

“I- Yes. Thank you My Knight, Miss Chase, Miss Marie. I will agree to your offer to aide, and we will discuss the specifics after the meeting adjourns.” He finally decided.

Chase seemed thrilled. The woman was surely happy to have a whole new town’s-worth of new able-bodied souls to help her manage her crops, even if it was just for the harvest for one season. Horror and her both knew that this would put her ahead of schedule from the other farms by a bit. More progress did mean more attention from him and Crop, more notoriety for their village, and more trade incoming and outgoing. Plus, Chase was the kind of woman who insisted a little bit of manual labor was healthy for the soul. She was already getting her hands on that parchment used by all the council members to plead their cases to be reviewed by the King. 

When all was quieted and both Damien and Marie also seemed to have begin writing, though theirs were on regular paper (letters maybe?), Dust allowed a moment of quiet before he reintroduced their topic for the day. And… was immediately interrupted by another raised hand from a new corner of the meeting room.

.

“How… do you do it?” Horror asked quietly, lifting his axe from the sling along his back. 

Dust glanced at him. Horror could tell, the tilt of his chin meant he wasn’t following.

“I mean. Talk in front of all those people. Think of good answers to their questions so quick. You’re so calm.” He clarified. 

“Mm.” Was all Dust said for a second. 

They’d been out of the council meeting for a few hours now. Dust had rushed off post-meeting to see Nightmare. As much as they all knew Dust was the king of paperwork, especially contracts, Nightmare had made him promise to let him at least read over each one so his stamp was proper. (They all knew that meant he’d take the fall if anything went wrong for either party, too.) So, despite their King being so tired and busy with his whole… being a teenager thing? He was still triple-checking legal documents in his study. 

When that was finished Dust had gone off to check the stables and now he was back inside. In the training room, to be more specific. He’d been trying to make sure his magic was under control. His storm. Horror figured he was nervous, with Nightmare being so young now. They all needed to be on their toes. Horror had wanted to come with him, because he needed to sharpen and polish his axe. And ask him that question.

“Black Market boss.” He replied evenly, tugging his hood over his head a bit farther than it usually sat. 

Of course Horror knew about that. It had been very obvious when he’d first showed up. Back then, Dust was still wandering around in his shackles and being used as a walking map to find every black market location. Sure, he figured that the stress of a job like that, plus the paperwork involved, had to have prepared him for something like this, but… Horror was the last one to forget that past of his. He meant something else. 

“Didn’t mean that.” He said with a little huff. “Meant. Like. You think how the King would. I could… make choices that I liked. But. Not the same way Nightmare would. You know? You think of everything.” He elaborated a bit more.

Dust stood beside him as he plopped down onto one of the benches to the side of the training room. Dust would need all the floor space to practice his spells, and sharpening and cleaning his monster of an axe didn’t need much space at all. 

“Same morals?” He replied deadpan with a shrug. 

Dust was already moving out onto the big open floor to begin his summons, but he clearly heard it as Horror let out a laugh, because his steps got a bit lighter.

“You ass! I saw you send me a look about the Cherris rep. You wouldn’t have… said yes to her on your own.” He accused, almost playfully. He liked when his small friend set his shoulders. It meant he was trying not to laugh about something. Dust didn’t turn towards him.

“She asked for… a lot. Already gets a lot of support.” He replied shortly. 

Quickly after his words, Horror was graced with the vision of Dust’s magic igniting across the room. 

It was always in bright flashes. Sometimes manifesting as crooked, broken, brittle bone attacks with an electric taste in the air and a scorch mark left on the floor. Others, it showed up like a streak of lightning arching quickly from Dust’s fingertips or from the sky to strike wildly in any direction. It always had this deadly purple hue to it, and his one eyelight always flashed with vibrant colors just for a spilt second before it would fade back to that pale white/greyish color he sported normally. 

Dust didn’t like to talk when he was fighting or training, unless it was Killer. It seemed that would be his answer for now, which didn’t really help his curiosity in the slightest. It almost made him wonder more, but lucky for the both of them, he wasn’t a very pushy person. If Dust didn’t want to talk about it, there would be no talking. 

So, Horror took this time, with the ambient zapping noises of his fellow Knight’s magic as his soundtrack, to properly care for his axe. It was a nice, calming, repetitive task that helped chase away building headaches and distract him from worrisome thoughts. It was times like these when he could really take a moment to think about things he hasn’t in a while. Like, for instance, his family back home. 

Almost two weeks ago, only days before the King’s reverse-ascension, he’d gotten a letter from his mother. It was written in their foreign tongue, the only writing all the family could recognize and the only language which most of them spoke. It had detailed how his brother was doing well, managing their own experimental patches well and how his studies to learn more of Orchan, the dialect spoken by the people here, had been going by quickly. He was already planning to send a letter to him apparently. Though, his mother had insisted he not mention that when they meet again because it was meant to be a surprise. It also sounded like their old farm dog had finally had her last litter of puppies. They were going to move her into someone’s house and off the fields soon, once this batch of pups grew old enough to protect the livestock on their own. Horror knew how much that old dog deserved a nice retirement treat. Warm bed and shoes to chew on when she’d get bored. 

He ran a cloth along the broadside of the axe blade, away from the sharp bits for now. He liked getting the side shiny enough that he could spot a silhouette, but not enough that he could see his own reflection. 

…Honestly, he wanted to visit his family. He wanted to visit his family with the King in tow, though. The plan had been to ask him about another visit soon, because his entire village adored the King just like he did. His mother once swooned to him about how ‘awkward and kind’ the King was when he sat with everyone at dinner. His dad liked the way Nightmare tried to hold back his joy at the taste of their home-cooked meal they’d served to him. The King’s poker face had hardly broken for a moment, but the curling of those tendrils of his had been hard to miss. 

He just thought it’d be nice to bring Nightmare along. Plus, then, his family would be much less likely to try and baby him. He’d be on the clock as a guard, even if the King wouldn’t say so. 

It would have to happen another time, though. Maybe he’d invite Crop instead. Have him examine ground zero for this entire project of theirs? That’d be nice, it’d keep his family occupied by talking technicalities with Crop… but then Horror wouldn’t get nearly enough time with Crop all to himself… Maybe-

“Worried for him.” 

Dust’s voice snapped Horror out of his thoughts with a jolt. 

Dust stared at him, only a little apologetic at giving his large friend a heart-attack. He was stood right past Horror’s axe. He must’ve stopped polishing a while ago. Dust looked like he’d worked up a sweat, the room felt at least 10 degrees warmer, and the floor and some walls had distinct scorch marks all along the stone in various locations. How long ago had Dust stopped training? He hadn’t even heard the zapping end, so lost in his own head. 

“What?” Horror asked, confused now. 

Dust frowned slightly, though he tugged his mask back over his mouth. 

“Been learning his process for years. Only doing it now because I’m worried.” He said. 

He moved to sit beside Horror on the bench, and Horror twisted to look at him. Waiting for any more insight into Dust’s thought process. 

“He looks tired. Can see the bags under his eyes. Missing words too. Trouble focusing, looks confused sometimes.” He explained. “Don’t think he’s dumb, real genius kid. Just… the whole “13 year old brain” is getting to him. Don’t think he’s sleeping much either. It’s a lot.” 

Dust looked a little pained to be saying it outloud. Horror knew he was just speaking his mind. Trying to find a good way to say that he was rightfully worried for the King’s wellbeing. 

Ever since the incident, Horror hadn’t been around the King much. Not by choice of course, every bone in his body wished he could just wrap his young employer up in his arms and make him go out to the courtyard to play catch, just like he used to do with his older cousins as a kid. It just… it just made sense for him to remain vigilant and focused. Ccino and Killer and Dust seemed to have things covered with the King’s personal interactions. Horror and Cross had just been tasked with keeping face and continuing training best they could. Nightmare hadn’t even been coming to supervise trainings. So, Horror could barely say anything to Dust’s description.

The only thing Horror knew was that Dust wasn’t one to worry unneededly. Like, when he and the King returned with that Mage. Error? He’d seemed worried about the kid, but after a few days he relaxed again, because it was safe and that kid seemed genuinely happy. If Dust thought something was up with the King, Horror would believe him without doubt.

“Mm. Good thing. You learned, I mean.” Horror replied carefully. “Probably a lot like…” Hmm, maybe he didn’t want to say that out loud. Would that be rude?

A beat of silence passed between them.

“Yeah.” Dust just said quietly. 

Of course Dust knew what he was about to say. Comparing the King’s rewind to his own skull injury. Granted, his happened when he was a kid, but even now it made things harder. Harder to think, to remember, to see, to process things. He’s had time to get used to it though. Nightmare was just hit by similar issues so suddenly, and no physical wound to soothe either. Their king was smart and prepared. Horror could bet he didn’t want to lose that feeling. To lose… everything he’d been doing here. Just like that. 

“Don’t want to, though.” Dust’s voice was still quiet and even. 

Horror tilted his head at him curiously. 

“Talk. In front of others.” He clarified with a shrug. “Was nice being a Knight. Quiet before. …But I want to help. King’s too young to act alone.” 

Dust sighed after those words. 

They all could have said the same things about themselves in the past. Horror remembers the first time Dust discussed his early days out on the streets. He was too young to put himself into those situations. Then again, Killer had been too young for any of the shit he was put through. Same with what he heard from Cross. Even he shouldn’t have really been the sole communicator for his entire family in his youth. There had been a few close encounters in those early years thanks to angry customers. 

There was no time to really think back on it, though. In the moment now, Dust was right. The King was having that crisis in real time. They all needed to face the music and help take on some of the weight, especially after all Nightmare had done for them. Was still doing for them. 

“Think there’s… something I can do? To help you with the meetings?” He paused, and Dust didn’t say anything so he continued. “Or help the King?” 

He hadn’t exactly been doing much. Killer and Dust had taken on most of the responsibility, and Ccino… that poor guy, Horror wasn’t sure how he was managing everything he was. Killer gave them a breakdown once of all the shit he technically oversees as the ‘Head of House’ and stars was it way too much. And Cross was still a rookie, so he got why Nightmare hadn’t assigned any big stressors to him. Horror was capable though, and he hoped the King wasn’t-

“Next few weeks. He can’t meet the farms. I dunno how he runs those meetings.” Dust once again sliced through his thoughts with his even tone. “ ‘sides. You stayed, didn’t do your missions. Watching out for Cross. Think Night likes having us close. Already helping a lot.” 

Right. When Dust says it like that, it made his whole lot of nothing sound like everything. Sometimes he forgot Dust was an older brother. Horror chuckled a bit, and he could’ve sworn Dust’s cheekbones rose ever so slightly with the twitch of a hidden grin. He should’ve known better anyhow, Dust always knew just the right information. It was why Night hired him in the first place. 

“You’re doin’ well. Keeping things moving smooth. I’m sure the King appreciates it.” Horror voiced, before he sighed and hoisted himself to his feet. His axe was definitely done. He’d sharpen it another day. “Maybe,” A grin appeared on his face. “When he’s better, we can assign Kills to talk instead.” 

In hardly a moment, a silent moment, Dust was at his side now standing. He raised a doubtful brow at the suggestion. 

.

What is he doing? What is he doing?  

Oh, this felt so, so odd! He wasn’t- he shouldn’t! Well, he was ordered to, but still! He-

“Cross?” 

Cross jolted as he looked up from where he had made a poor attempt at excusing himself from the group outside. He’d insisted he had important business, he was sure he sounded convincing… until he’d walked through the nearest door. Which happened to be one of the weapon storage closets out amidst the training grounds. 

Now, as he turned to face the person who had spoken, he found that there was someone standing in the doorway. A familiar someone. A human with an impressive beard and dark tanned skin and scars tracing across his cheekbones ever so faintly and kind eyes with a few wrinkles under them. From age or stress, Cross wasn’t entirely sure. 

This was Captain Rogers. The King’s first in command who watched over all the royal guard as well as castle security. The man who had personally guided the batch of recruits which Cross had snuck in with during his spying mission hardly two years prior. The man who, he had swiftly learned, had seen through him very quickly and had purposely placed him with Shep as his guide. That damn liar. Captain Rogers was sharp, and skilled, and trustworthy. 

As far as he knew, the Captain had been around longer than Killer. At least, that’s what Killer had told him when he asked. He also had mentioned, and Cross had noticed, he was friends with the Head of House. Cross guessed that made sense. The captain had ensured Ccino be introduced as an important person within the castle very early on in their work here, and he had been proven very very right. 

Maybe it was that reputation Cross had seen true with his own two eyes during his stay that led him to not ask the Captain to leave as he eased his way into the weapons storage and gently closed the door behind him. He wasn’t a threat. Especially if the King trusted him with Ccino. He could know that much. 

“I’m not looking to disturb your business here, but I wanted to see if I could be of any assistance.” The Captain offered loosely. 

He’d been kind since Cross was pardoned by the King and allowed to train. His first few weeks when he fought against the Captain’s own soldiers? He and the King had both been patient with him. Something about being in combat like that again… it had brought out the worst in him. An old wound reopening in his chest like an empty chasm. He was pretty sure the King never explained to the Captain why they would suddenly stop mid-round, but Cross figured he could see the change as well as Nightmare could feel it. They’d only kept that up a few weeks until he was deemed too high of a skill level to continue training with the soldiers. He’d been moved to private training with the Knights not much later than that. Only saw the Captain in passing ever since. 

If nothing else, that time under his guidance had taught Cross that he was a man who knew how to speak with others. With security for himself and what he does, a pride in his work. He didn’t act maliciously. Perhaps only in jest or retribution to those who deserved it. He wouldn’t follow Cross in here if he hadn’t noticed him acting weird. 

That mortified him.

“Thank you. For the- for the offer, Captain Rogers.” Cross replied hurriedly, realizing he’d already been staring for a period of time that felt too long. “Though I’m not sure there’s anything that can be helped.”

The Captain was silent for a few breaths, but he did wander deeper into the shed to join Cross before the stand which he had decided to stop at in his rush to get out from the scrutinous eyes of the soldiers out there. He turned away. He could easily see the reflection of the Captain on the steel surfaces of the longswords he’d stationed himself in front of. Of course he’d stopped near the long swords. He was so predictable. 

“I’m not so sure about that, kid. I’ve seen time again how the helpless can be helped in these recent years.” He said quietly. Part of Cross knew that, with their ranking, in some ways they were meant to be equals. It never seemed that way, though. Maybe that was why Cross’ nerves were on fire. “So if I can help, I’d like to offer it to you.” 

Yeah. From what Cross had seen of the people in this castle in these two years, it made sense to him now more than ever that Nightmare would keep people like the Captain around for so long. 

Wait…

“Have you… spoken with our King recently?” Cross had to know. 

After all, he hardly saw Nightmare interact with his own soldiers. He devoted much time into his Knights, but those in lower rank hardly saw him. He didn’t seem to know their names as well as he did the servants. Did he leave all business up to the Captain for the sake of trust? Was there something he had been missing? 

He saw as the Captain glanced towards the closed door, and his eyes skimmed the rack of weapons. Checking for any signs of life in the reflection. His eyes only landed on Cross, staring right back at him in the shining steel. 

“Not directly, no. Though I have heard word from Ccino as to how he is fairing. Seen him pass by in the night a few times. He seems to be doing well, considering it all.” He voiced, his voice almost dropping to an inaudible whisper. Cross had to stop breathing to be able to hear him. “I know you see him regularly. I’m glad for that.” 

Cross nodded, mostly to himself. Yes, he figured that the Captain would know. Why else would he agree to let Cross back out among his men so easily? The King was in danger if he didn’t train these monsters. 

He took a slight breath from the silence, drinking in the scent of cleaners and musty wood.

“I wish Killer was in charge of this…” He muttered to himself, dragging his hand up to his skull to place pressure to his sockets with the heel of his palms. 

And he nearly jumped when the Captain let a laugh fall from his mouth. It was subdued, but hardy enough Cross practically felt it bounce around in his ribcage alongside his racing soul. 

“You truly believe Sir Killer would have better luck with something like this?” The Captain questioned, a slight smile still present after his raucous laugh had scared Cross to the bone. “No ill will, of course. Just… think on it. Truly.” 

Cross, part of him, felt an indignation on Killer’s behalf. For a moment he wondered if the Captain was being rude towards the Knight. The oldest of them, the most skilled, the one who stood at King Nightmare’s side. Though it only took half a second for him to recall. No, he was actually right. He couldn’t picture Killer out there on the training grounds, trying to teach swaths of people at a time. To dodge, too. Killer was a very aggressive fighter and only fled when he truly needed to. Even then, most of that work belonged to his beloved steed Granite. Killer was not the type to teach fighting lessons to a crowd. 

Though, he wondered how the Captain had come to a conclusion like that. Cross had heard that Nightmare had sparred with the Captain before. Only a few times, not even close to the kind of intense training which the Knights had to go through. That he had been training. Before Night’s change, of course. From what he’d been told. The Captain had only lasted hardly a minute. One, very impressive, minute, but still. There was no way he’d ever sparred against Killer.

“No… You are right, Killer wouldn’t be the best option here.” He admitted. “Though I get the feeling that one of the Knights would be a better fit for this sort of training…”

Of course, it went unsaid in the silence which followed that, well, the other Knights were too busy to do something like this. Dust was leading every meeting Nightmare had scheduled, and planned to continue for as long as he was needed. Killer was busy staying by the King’s side and taking on the King’s usual commoner communications. Figuring out what little issues were good to be dealt with how. As well as ‘cleaning out’ the dungeon. Cross was pretty sure they didn’t keep as many criminals as they had in the past, even when Cross was among the cells those two years ago it hadn’t been very crowded. He had a feeling that the more dangerous and violent of those below the castle had been swiftly dealt with by Killer’s blade. Horror he was pretty sure was preparing. The two of them had spent a lot of time by each other’s sides those first few days, when the King was asleep or waking for only short periods before returning to sleep. After, though, Horror received his orders to cancel his missions and prepare for the upcoming harvests which would need to be guided and recorded over the fall. Cross… Cross had only been asked to continue his training with Horror when their schedules fell in line, and to work with Killer to settle any local matters. 

He didn’t mind it so far, there had been very little to do, though. He worried he’d been sidelined. Sent to do the unimportant tasks because he wasn’t capable enough. Nightmare had smiled at him, but he seemed distressed. Cross was too, then. 

There was no way the King had chosen him to do something like this. Teach others. He couldn’t do that. 

“Well, it is a shame that you think like that. You were recommended to me for this training, you know?” The Captain crossed his arms. “By several someones, actually. Training the soldiers may have been my idea, but you were who many pointed to when I asked for assistance.” 

Cross blinked at those words in confusion. 

Who could have possibly suggested he do something like this? 

“I find that hard to believe.” He said. He’d meant it to sound a bit more joking, but it looked like it’d come out more genuine. The Captain furrowed his brow in response, and Cross attempted to backpedal, raising his hands a little. “I mean! Kidding! Just kidding!” Though his awkward chuckle obviously wasn’t contagious. 

“Look, Cross.” He huffed after those words. “If you really don’t want to do this, I can always ask for a hand from someone else. I bet Horror would do it in your stead if we reached out to him.” He offered. 

Was- was the Captain really just going to let him slip away from this? He was kind. Incredibly so. 

He wondered how it would feel to just accept. Hand off the stressful duty to Horror. Horror knew these people better anyhow, they had trained early on before Nightmare decided to offer him a position as Knight. Horror still spoke with most of them regularly. Cross, on the other hand, evaded eye contact like a kicked puppy. It would be so easy to just let Horror take over before he had to do his meeting things for the harvest season. It would be so convenient. So easy. 

“No. I’ll do it.” He said quickly. 

The Captain raised a brow, but Cross was already moving past him. Towards the door. 

“Sudden change of heart?” The Captain questioned from behind him. 

Cross took a deep inhale. One to center himself as he outstretched his hand and placed it on the knob leading back outside. 

“I don’t think I’m any good at leading or teaching, thinking on it makes me sick to my stomach… but the idea of making the others take on another responsibility is ten times worse.” He practically spat. 

No, he was not happy about this. He shoved open the door to the shed and drew his sword as he walked back towards the warm-up field where the soldiers had occupied themselves by whacking dummies with their weapons. He wanted nothing more than to turn away, out of the beating sun and watchful gazes of these people who he once hid among. He couldn’t though. Not when everyone else had some way to help. If this was Cross’ new duty, he’d do it with all the confidence he could muster. 

… Besides. They were training for fast-reaction magic attacks. He was literally the only choice for this. He’d just have to make his own training regime this time around. He could do this. 

.

Killer had done a lot of odd jobs in his past. Most of them involved stealing. Or threatening. Or killing. He had to get his name from somewhere, after all. Even so, running into town to pick up Ccino’s fabric order hadn’t been something he’d ever expected to be on his resume. 

The King was having one of his rough days. Killer hadn’t often been able to see them first-hand back in the day, but he knew they were very much there. The days he would lock himself away in his study, the Head of House the only one allowed to enter, bringing with him a cup of tea or a platter of small snacks. Staying inside for hours at a time on occasion. Killer had often guarded the door if nothing else, but the walls were thick. He couldn’t often hear the low murmuring voices within. 

Now, that the King was miniscule, Killer had been allowed to spend more time around both the King in his private spaces, as well as around Ccino. He was grateful for both opportunities. Though, today the King had looked exhausted. He’d been up for a few days trying to make that magic spell he found work, to make his eye cyan again. He wasn’t saying anything, but Killer figured it was draining his magic more than he wanted to admit. And earlier, when Dust came to deliver those reports from the meeting, Ccino had asked the two of them to stay for a while so he could collect a delivery. Only… Nightmare nearly flung himself out of his seat when he heard Ccino suggest he was leaving. The King didn’t outright say anything, but all of them knew those wide sockets were pleading. A silent beg to stay. Which was quickly followed by stray tears that he hastily noticed and covered with his sleeves. 

Emotions. He hadn’t thought the King had been such a crybaby before. Maybe he hadn’t been. Killer couldn’t blame him though. If he had to go back to being 13, with the awareness of his 13 year old self? Yeah. No. He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t make it a day. It was just that he was a crying a lot. The slightest little things would make his sockets well with tears, and then he’d try to insist he was okay and didn’t need help. Even when he would still bury into Ccino’s arms the moment they came in contact. 

That was what had happened. Ccino returned to the King’s side, and the King immediately clung to him, muttering apologies. Insisting he go out anyways. What he reacted poorly and should be able to handle himself.

Killer had looked to Dust, and Dust had just nodded at him. 

“I’ll go get the order.” Killer had offered stupidly, a little too eagerly, into the open air. 

Both Nightmare and Ccino had seemed startled, but when he promised he wanted to run into town anyways (he hadn’t) they relented and Ccino gave him the details. Dust offered wordlessly to stay and watch over the King and head of House in Killer’s absense. He knew Killer all too well. He’d have to thank him with a drink sometime.

Those tears. They just made him uncomfortable. He wasn’t good with emotions, especially not sadness. He doesn’t know quite how to fix crying. It’s not his thing. 

It just made sense for Ccino to stay and Dust to watch over them. His big brother senses must’ve been strong today, and his patience plentiful. 

He’s run to the shop, of course. A tailor shop owned by a pretty skeleton just off from the capital square. He hadn’t seemed excited to see Killer, even with that mask. A nervous energy rolling off his shoulders as he reluctantly gathered items from behind the desk and packed them carefully into the bag which Ccino had sent him with to carry the items. He’d asked about Ccino. Whether he was okay. Killer had just told him that Ccino was busy so he was running errands. They hadn’t had much more to say beyond that. 

Now, he was back in the castle, ready to present Ccino with his prize, and see if the King had been able to calm down at all. 

“My lord?” He called out as he opened the door to the study with an easy swing of wood on heavy hinges. Slipping inside was no problem, but he’d be stupid to deny that he was confused when he didn’t spot the little monarch sitting behind his too-big wooden desk piled high with paperwork. 

“Killer,” He sure knew that voice! His head swiveled until his vision fell to Ccino, sitting on one of the couches. Dust was nowhere in sight. “Perfect timing. Dust just left to meet with Horror to train… How was your trip to town?” 

Ccino, polite and reserved as always. It made Killer’s gut twist just a little. At the distance. His soul certainly wriggled in place as he made his approach, bag clutched by one hand at his side. 

“Not bad. Could’ve done with a little more action!” He joked, though as he got closer, he lowered his voice and the laugh trying to come to him simmered back into his cheshire grin. “Your little friend from the shop asked about you.” 

As Killer rounded the largest couch to stand just across the low table from Ccino, he noticed what he hadn’t prior. The King was curled up with his back to killer, arms loosely hugging to Ccino’s middle, his face buried against Ccino’s apron. A blanket normally tossed over the back of the few chairs within the room was covering him, and someone had tucked him in tight, like a bug in a rug. Even more charmingly, one of the cats took up the rest of the space on Ccino’s lap. That little calico, Princess. Her back was pressed to the back of Nightmare’s skull and she seemed perfectly content to roll up into a perfect little bun on her master’s lap. 

And despite the adorable scene, Killer didn’t miss how Ccino seemed to perk up at the mention of his friend. So they were friends, then. 

“What did you tell him?” Ccino asked, his voice quiet. One of his hands was settled gently atop Nightmare’s side, the other was free and tucked by his side. 

Killer chuckled quietly, sitting on the opposite couch as he plopped his delivery silently to the table before Ccino. 

“Nothing bad. Told him you were busy so I was out on a grocery run. Everyone knows you’re a very busy man.” He teased. Was it okay to tease him right now? Was Ccino going to be mad with him?

Well, if he was, he didn’t seem to say anything about it. Instead , he peered at the bag, then smiled a bit. 

“Well, thank you for running out, my Knight.” He returned, eyelights shifting back down to his charge who rested in the comfort and safety of his lap. …Killer had to admit to himself that he was a bit jealous. “When I have the chance, I plan to visit our tailor and ensure that our King has a wider wardrobe, since it seems he truly won’t be returning to his previous form anytime soon.” 

Right. They were still trying to keep everything under wraps, so Ccino couldn’t just send a servant with measurements to see the seamstress halfway across castle grounds. He probably had to go himself. Especially because, as Killer had quickly learned, Nightmare is particular about things. The texture of his meals, the feeling of his clothes, even the temperature of his sheets in the night or the brightness of a candle. Though, he rarely voices his discomfort. Ccino was just a master of noticing the little ways the small King would squirm or tug at his top or squint at a candle just a bit too strong for his newly sensitive eyes. He wanted to learn how to do that so well. 

His only good news on that front was that Nightmare still made a lot of the same gestures as before. His little, silent commands to Killer. At ease, be alert, with me. He was fond of still being familiar with their own little secret code they’d unintentionally invented over the years. 

“It really wasn’t a big deal. Besides, our little Lord said that it’d be better for the city to see the knights are still active, right? With Dust and Horror out of commission for day-trips, I’ve gotta pick up the slack!” he joked, leaning back comfortably into the couch and sighing. “Next time you need a break, we can always try and ask him to supervise a training for us. Maybe it’d make him feel a little better?” he suggested,

Nightmare, small as he was now, still couldn’t deny a duty which called for him. Especially, Killer assumed, from his Knights. A little of that old normality would probably be good for him. Make him feel like not much had changed. Even though… it definitely had. 

Ccino smiled a bit at that idea, his hand gently petting Nightmare’s ar. His chest rose up and down ever so gently. 

“He cherishes training with all of you so dearly. Maybe he would enjoy a small break from all of these worries.” He agreed quietly.

[thewhizzyhead]

warriors 2024 and the art of giving meaning to struggle

alrighty ramble time: let's talk about luther and how he managed to fuck up NYC for good. if luther were like i dunno lex luthor, i'd say his move to destabilize gang relations in nyc is a very fucking calculated move because i really do have to give credit to him in actually achieving the goal he set out for himself because his decision to kill cyrus,,,,aka the one that organized the "Please No Gang Fighting" summit that aimed to unite everyone against the bigger baddies of NYC,,,essentially fucking killed any and all chance of such a peace summit and unity initiative from ever happening again. because, like, after seeing a beloved and seemingly untouchable leader be murdered in front of all of you despite explicit instructions to Not Bring Weapons, would you even risk witnessing that chaos again in another summit? would you trust that forming a united force work after such a tragedy? is there even a possibility of finding trust among other NYC gangs if someone among their number killed your very hope? so yea knowing how the movie ends with just the gramercy riffs saying that the warriors (with two dead people and one arrestee in tow) are off the hook because someone else witnessed luther killing cyrus,,,the original ending is actually quite hopeless when you think about it in their shoes. in the words of movie swan himself in the movie, is what they end up with all their night of sleepless fighting and struggle is worth? hence, i now really see why warriors (2024) decided to make what I consider to be the 2nd biggest diversion outside of the genderswap: making cleon live - because otherwise, the warriors' struggles surviving the night can be said to be struggle for solely struggle's sake.

in the musical, cleon is an astute believer in cyrus and the future cyrus envisions for all of NYC - thus, she becomes the harbinger of cyrus' hope in the form of still breathin' and somewhere in the city. her being alive doesn't detract from the widespread tragedy faced by the NYC gangs - i still really believe that no matter what, luther effectively killed their one shot at true unity and trust - but in cleon's own words: "What do you do when they kill everything you believe in? Give it meanin." the decision to keep cleon alive is warriors (2024) counteractive measure at the absolute shithole luther placed NYC in because in her message of keeping the dream alive despite situations that are, realistically speaking, impossible to wholly recover from, gives their struggle meaning, purpose, and direction - the end goal being hope. that theme of hope despite and in spite of adversity now becomes evident on as to why we are made to be invested in the warriors' journey home and their subsequent growth. in mercy's decision to leave the orphans for a place of belonging and pride that can make her finally hold her head up high. in ajax's and fox's decisions to retaliate against their pursuants among sleazy old men in blue. in swan's persistence in getting the rest of her crew home alive despite still reeling from the loss of her leader and her fellow warriors. all attribute their own reasons to why they resist and rebel because they ultimately hope for something fucking better. ultimately, warriors (2024) exists because of the want to give more meaning to struggle in the form of hope amidst hopelessness. in the movie, the warriors find their meaning in the sweet simple bliss of survival - in making to coney island's sunrise. but in the album, another meaning is emphasized among not just the warriors, but the marginalized communities of NYC in general: their meaning of struggle goes beyond surviving the night - because they carry on and carry forth the dream of one day having a city where they all come home alive. because after all, isn't the formation of grassroots rooted in resistance - and isn't resistance born out of the want and hope for something better?

[the-four-eyed-stray]

I loved the part in the Magnus Archives where Jane Prentiss said "it's wormin' time," and wormed all over the place

[s4tanic-pan1c]

Just wanted to say fuck Jawn and always stand with the victims

[sesamestreep]

“requiem for methuselah” crazy ass episode for many reasons. Kirk is being fully insane, like I don’t actually think, even controlling for how quickly and easily and readily he seems to fall in love with anybody at the slightest encouragement, that he’d go that bonkers for that android woman he just met while everyone on the ship was this close to dying, but that’s neither here nor there, because in the background you’ve got an equally but much more subtly insane episode for Spock, who extremely uncharacteristically admits to experiencing an emotion (or nearly experiencing, whatever) and that emotion is ENVY of all things. And then spends the rest of the episode warning Kirk away from this new love interest (something that doesn’t usually happen, even when Kirk has very inadvisable love interests) and is, in the end, the person who accurately identifies that Rayna’s competing love for Kirk and Flint is ultimately what overwhelms and destroys her with the most killer line in maybe history???

And then to wrap it up we get an equally uncharacteristic sort of denouement scene (TOS loooves to cut an episode off right after the actual climax, leaving little time for falling action or character reflection, or to stick a sitcom-y button on the end where the gang all smiles and laughs at their misadventures and everything resets to zero, which is not a criticism, it’s just the style of that era of tv, honestly) where Kirk is literally miserable over Rayna’s death (again, kind of unusual for a lot of his love interests, he tends to be able to move on pretty quickly) and Spock goes to see him and he falls asleep right in front of Spock (also odd) and then when Bones comes in to give the final word on Flint, Spock waves him off from waking the Captain (tender) and Bones gives him that awful speech about how it’s sadder that Spock can’t even imagine the love Kirk felt for this random android woman than it is that Kirk lost her in the first place (debatable but also rude) and how his great tragedy is that he can’t love at all like they can and how all he wishes is that Kirk could forget about all of this and move on. AND THEN, to have Bones leave and Spock go over to Kirk and very gently, tenderly, reluctantly touch him and put his hand to his forehead and tell him to forget and HAVE THAT BE THE END OF THE EPISODE??? What am I supposed to do with that??

[there-are-4-lights]

from here

[sophsicle]

Soph I love you but Taylor Swift does not “make herself the victim” there’s so much valid shit that has happened to her for us to feel that way about her, which most of her fans honestly don’t even see her as - granted there as some obnoxious ones but that goes for all fandoms.

Like for example of the experiences I was talking about.

- being sexually assaulted and then being called “greedy” for suing the guy.

- being painted as a “snake” because she didn’t react well to someone writing a misogynistic song about it. Which I feel like is a valid reaction as a woman in entertainment.

- being groomed at 19 by a 30+ something year old.

- getting called a snake worldwide for a narrative that 2 people - who were more famous than her at the time invented.

- being bodyshamed constantly when she had an eating disorder

Yes she’s privileged and has always been, coming from money and having fame, but she does not portray herself as the “victim” and the fact that people think she does just for standing up for herself makes me sad, not because of her but because being a woman myself it just paints the picture that women’s pain or experiences will always be brushed under the rug because we’re classified as “dramatic” and “we should take it with more grace” “be thankful about the good things” like??

I understand that you don’t like her but that assessment just seems wrong.

like i just. you realize you're proving my point right? like this - not just this message, but all of the ones i've gotten where people are waxing poetic about all of the struggles taylor swift has had and how she is absolutely a victim and how dare i suggest otherwise - is exactly what i'm talking about. you feel the need to jump down the throat of anyone who says anything remotely negative about her. this is the whole "victim" narrative, that she is vulnerable and must be protected and defended from all negativity at all times at all costs.

and like. that is on purpose. she has cultivated that narrative for this reason. so that publications are now afraid to post reviews of her albums with bylines because their journalists are getting death threats if they criticize her.

i am not suggesting that taylor swift has never had anything bad ever happen to her. that would be insane. i am trying to say that this culture that has been cultivated within her fanbase of defending and protecting her, is extreme and irrational. and when you don't buy into it, it makes a lot of the content surrounding taylor swift very hard to swallow.

[maddgical-boy]

i feel like we don't talk about how much madd distorts your sense of identity, especially if you have a paraself that is meant to be the person you want to be and/or cannot currently be. when i look at myself in the mirror i almost don't recognize myself because That's Not Me that's just like. idk. some meat suit i need to be alive on earth??

[beylinine]

looks like someone was 360 behind the back no-scoped in the 17th century. and you know what? its only going to get worse

Arthur James Kirkland headcanons

There will be no intermission and I will try to be normal. Relating to EN and his relationships and general person ig. History words will be used just fyi i gotta make use of this degree i can taste it already. Will I bring up the fact that I'm studying history everytime I ramble about hetalia? Yes, anyways. 

Was Arthur’s life ever truly peaceful? Well no. personifications never know peace ToT:

I sorta mentioned this in (this) ramble on personhood, but oh my god, when he was a 'preteen' to 'early adult' he really was 360 behind the back no-scoped throughout the late 16th to early 19th centuries (which inspired my drawings)

He did go out and explore during the 16th century (and a bit during the 18th cen.) but between the reign of James I (left pic) and Will & Mary (right pic),,,just,, yikes. but puberty does that to all of us.

Fashion historians please dont come for me regarding the outfits i tried ToT. But on the topic, while he would be out sailing the seas he enjoyed having his hair messy and natural, brushing it slightly imo for royal occasions. But as he had to grow and learn more, he began 'dyeing' his hair with different powders (i cant explain but google can sos ToT) as blonde hair was seen as a more 'feminine' hair colour and Arthur was a growing into a 'man' so he wanted to appear as such (especially when you think of his older brother, the dark haired Alasdair) Green eyes were also seen as odd (i think?) but cant do anything about that lol.

-Lots of burnt hair when the brothers would attempt to curl their hair for royal occasions oop

As the personifications are their own persons, with their own emotions and beliefs and whatnot, that can sometimes get clouded with the intent of the 'boss'. So do all his brothers 'hate' him? I don't truly think so, but since they have all had long complicated histories as themselves and as nations, the reality in their minds get murky. But when Arthur was a 'boy & teen' and was having to fight his older brothers? Oh yeah, he was crying whenever he could 😭 Like to believe that as the older brothers, Alasdair (🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿) and Dylan (🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿) did feel bad in some way seeing as they had to go years fighting and personally ignoring their baby brother.

Pre-roman Britain brother relationships my beloved. Little infant Arthur (based on The Beautiful World Christmas episode where they showed little FRA and tiny ENG wrapped up in a blanket)

and I say pre-roman because the Romans built a wall between England and Scotland and tried to build a ditch between Wales and England (that wasnt done until Anglo-Saxon times (which is when I believe Arthur managed to at least stand on his own two feet and talk yee old english), Offa's Dyke for those interested), brothers were definitely not happy about that (canon cue the brothers sending little Arthur curses and birds to attack him).

and pre-Norman because France doesn't start appearing around Arthur until Arthur is slightly older. Dylan took care the little nugget, a bit reluctant of letting humans coddle the 'baby'. Get that baby practicing magic ASAP (stayc girls its going down).

Speaking of Anglo-Saxon times, vikings! Vikings invaded different parts of the British Isles. So you would think there's bad vibes between Norway and Denmark and the British bros, but we don't see that in the show (some in the comics over blockades i think). If anything, Norway and England are friends that bond over magic (Christmas 2011 comics), All this to say some of the behaviour the personifications demonstrate are deliberately their own (i just wanted to say that FRA is just a big douche).

I know i said earlier that Arthur didnt leave England much during the reign of the Stuarts, but I believe he would sometimes just have enough and try to runaway onto new world ships and eventually was officially sent more often in the early 1700s

More on Arthur's relationship with his older brothers Dylan and Alasdair!

Based on geography alone, Arthur spent more time with Dylan. Even when the humans would try to separate them, they would find ways to meet by the marches (areas between ENG & WAL) or in Northern ENG whenever Alasdair had time to meet.

ENG and WAL were not "united" until the 15th century and SCT joined two centuries later, so it wasnt until then that the brothers were allowed to officially meet or gather (and then civil war breaks out, take a shot everything i mention it)

I like to think the brothers had a place in each of their nations where they could go get away from the humans and just live together (and that continues to this day, they yearn for the mountains; it was mentioned in the Hetalia Collezione profile that Arthur just wants nothing to happen -a phone that doesnt ring and a newspaper with no news or smth- like omg,,, he wants that grass so effing bad)

Real brotherly relationships through and through, the bants, the fights, just lads being bros. i love the family relationships hetalia has ToT <3

This is where I ramble about Arthur's relationship with Alfred and Matthew sit down yall:

Going off to see his younger brothers was a relief for Arthur from the national and international chaos he had over his 'late teen to early adult' years

Being the youngest after so many years, this was his chance to raise others, it would work out gr- (i was then shot 47 times)

-Ok but honestly, he constantly mentions (in manga panels relating to colonial americas) how being in the new world and being able to take care of his brothers like make food for them, is a stress reliever. He always apologizes for having to be away or having to leave quickly, saying how he knows what its like to be alone (curse you romans)

-And Arthur is just genuinely interested in having a good relationship with his new brothers (see: him looking at Matthew as his own person when they meet and not as just a piece of land with resources, I will talk about this manga chapter until the end of time HWS Chapter 192 my beloved) (also: when Alfred is trying to find Davie's flower and Arthur brings him some from England, even if it had to take a while but again, chaos at home so ToT it all ties back to how things that happened are out of his personal control even when he tried his best to make stuff work out) and he wants to do his best 'raising them' for the scary reality of being what they are after he just had his centuries of chaos

Mentioned this in my last ramble as well, but this genuine connection being then cut in the late 1700s went beyond mental and emotional turmoil, leading to Arthur getting ill and being looked over by Matthew for a bit (leading to Matthew and Alfred having a genuine argument not relating to them as countries, yall i cant do this anymore) 

General current person headcanons:

He is an excellent baker, I will die on this hill populated by sheep. All the brothers are, really (can personally only vouch for GB bros, I have not set food in the land of Ire for more than a layover sos ToT) Yorkshire puddings my beloved

Loves to bake pastries and desserts from other places and will send said representation an email/whatsapp asking for recipe ideas (he is so email/whatsapp just like me,,, just like me.)

Yes, Arthur is a London Boy…but before there was London there was Manchestaaa! That man spawned somewhere in (historic) Lancashire, I know it (plus War of the Roses and all that, fun little historical importance tie 

He can drive and I would trust him to do so, but definitely prefers public transport (and will complain about it at the same time, proper brit!)

Can he swim? Yes…not very well. He can stay afloat for a few minutes before he begins to panic. 

Arthur needs so much therapy but that is not an option so collecting old books and writing as a hobby to cope it is then? 

Truly would be a great writer (going off of all the famous English works ofc), but would dabble in painting, knitting and sewing, and music (which, as we all know, he loves to the point of having an electric guitar tattoo on his ass) 

Definitely one of those pretentious old music collecting snobs, but enjoys supporting small and local indie-punk rock bands (is loving the Charli renaissance and PinkPantheress era he's so proud)

He is an emotional and sleepy drunk as seen in the comics and show. He will be crying over his past mistakes one minute and snoring over the table the next.

Sports are serious business in the british household. World cup 2022 wales vs england? Oh that was a weekend rager even though the match was during a weekday (based on witnessing the rivalries irl, it was serious yall) Snacks are always a must and even when absolutely hammered, he will clean up as to not deal with it the next day

Would put his phone of selective notifications or Do Not Disturb from time to time until the government comes knocking

Human stuff:

Between 28 to 32 years old. Would have gone to school for English literature and publishing up to Masters, getting a job at a publishing company with the dream of one day being published himself. 

Lives the London hustle life in a fancy flat, but is very Montgomery Ricky “you want a garden but you got a balcony” coded as he had grown up in a suburban house with his family and yearns for that quiet life again but believes he needs to be in the city in order to get somewhere. 

Unlike in Gangsta AU, the brothers are actually related in my head and heart ToT. All raised by their mummsy. Dylan and Alasdair different dad from Arthur, but its the mom’s side that counts as we all know

loser failure bisexual of course 

Cant think of anything else rn, so i’ll end it here by saying he would use reading glasses by like age 25 lol

[conchfritters]

[visibly dying] Other than my blorbo being massacred y'know i'm having a pretty good time so far. i love that subject two wasn't that kid's dad i really didn't expect them to commit to actual murder by a playable character and her being dug up and re-fed to her brother is kind of metal. Anyway