drivelings

[drivelings]

When does a person become a 'demon'?

Is it when they find joy and revel in the suffering of others? When they commit the taboo of taking lives? Or is it when they spread the call of annihilation of others?

It can be none of these things.

"A human stops becoming human when they stop caring."

He closes his eyes with a deep breath. "Even a serial killer has something they cherish. The thrill of the hunt, the begging of victims--maybe a pet or themselves. But a demon--

"A demon is someone who no longer has any attachment to anything. They are dangerous because they have nothing to lose. They are pitiful because they can no longer empathize or feel as you or I do. A demon sees you and an ant the same way. Insignificant.

"Even animals feel. Plants, too. But a demon leaves destruction in their wake at a whim. No amount of conversation, tears, or blood shed could ever move them.

"I know of one."

--

"We're going to pay a little house visit right now, actually."

--

Indiscriminate power without the leash of something known as 'care'. No care for nature, for the destruction caused, for the grieving that would soon follow. There is no joy, no sadness, just a simple wave of the hand that decimated the entire team--over sixty years of combined training, two recent marriages, three parents with children under the age of five--into dust.

There is only emptiness. An infinite void that he could feel himself being sucked into and where his existence would be simply negated and rendered insignificant.

[drivelings]

There was once a time when Jing Yuan had a dream. A faraway dream that couldn't be realized through the harsh ravages of time which did not care for the stories of those its takes.

Jingliu was not his first master.

There was another.

"Are they stronger than you?" asks Yanqing, eyes wide and eager.

Jing Yuan smiles wordlessly, much to Yanqing's obvious frustration. He turns to the window, the sun forcing his eyes closed and the memories of long ago begin to resurface.

"Open your legs. Your stance is too narrow."

"But teacher--"

A much younger Jing Yuan saw the kick to his butt coming in slow motion and did nothing to stop your foot from connecting. It stung, but it didn't hurt.

"Tighten up and keep them open."

He did as you asked and widened his stance to an almost uncomfortable level. You then brought your heel swinging across the front of his ankle. There wasn't any strength, but the look you gave him forced him to move with you as you wished. His foot kept sliding back and back until he lost his balance and knelt onto the ground.

"It's too wide."

"I did as you said and widened my stance."

"I said to tighten your ass and widen your stance. You forgot to tighten."

Your nagging should get on his nerves, but he only smiled. You clicked your tongue.

"Cheeky brat." You also smiled, perfect and serene, eyes crinkled just so. He clenched his teeth, the sweet pounding of his heart caught him off guard. "Your smile needs more work than your footwork."

"If you say so, teacher."

Jing Yuan dusted himself off and returned to his stance, making sure to tense his glutes and that his stance was a finger wider than before. You nodded at him, tapping various parts of his body lightly with your fan.

Thighs. Calves. Shoulders. Lower back.

"Good. Arms out."

Obediently, he did so, heaving an inward sigh at what would inevitably come next.

With a grunt and tremendous effort, you precariously placed his glaive atop his outstretched arms. His body groaned at the unbalanced weight, but he dared not complain, not when your face looked it was going to burst from the exertion.

Instead, he grew his smile. "Thank you, teacher."

You tapped your fan against his cheek. "If you're thankful, fix that smile of yours. It will--"

"--become a weapon stronger than the mightiest sword, I know." He sighed and forced himself to smile again while holding his stance.

"Your eyes, child. Your eyes give you away. You must keep smiling especially when you don't want to. Sincerely." You matched his previous sigh, or did he imitate one of your previous ones? He didn't know. "All right. Forms. Go."

His upper body tipped forward, right foot slipped outward, drew a half circle, and slipped back. Left foot steady. Each step had the weight of his body. Each movement carried the power pushing at him from the earth beneath his bare feet. His arms were indisposed but not useless--they moved too. There was a steady pressure at his side; you were watching and pulling at him with your eyes, correcting his form silently.

You never did the forms with him. You couldn't. Even the standard glaive of the Cloud Knights were too much for you.

But still, he sought you out when no one else would.

Because, weak as you were, you had eyes and answers and wisdom, exactly what he needed to understand why he wasn't getting any stronger.

Only you laughed at his ambition, called him an "impatient child", and forced him into a life of basics, smiling lessons, and endless chess matches. So was his routine everyday once his work ended.

--

"Teacher."

"If you tell me this is boring one more time, I'm going to make you sweep the yard."

He watched you place a chess piece somewhere--he didn't understand the significance of the piece nor the move itself. It looked like a very defensive move to protect your general, but it is wide open to flanking from the side.

"This is boring."

He moved one of his pieces, devouring the piece you just laid down. Now your general was exposed on two sides. Victory was in sight.

Until you began to shift your pieces around, one after another, following a line of perfectly placed pawns straight to his general.

"Checkmate. Now go grab the broom. The yard needs cleaning." You yawned neatly behind your fan and got up.

"Wait, no--" He snatched the hem of your sleeve desperately. "How did you--? Did you plan this from--?"

Your eyes crinkled. "Cheeky brat. Ask yourself if I led you into a trap or if you fell into one first. Make sure you don't miss the edges near the fence."

Laughter echoed in his ears as he stared hard at the board, a mess of scattered pieces that he could not make heads or tails of. He couldn't even recall the last five moves that led him to this. Would he have been doomed if he moved differently?

It was no different than any other chess game he's played with you, but this time, the victory was too quick, too assured.

As frustrating as it was, he had to admit, it was still worthwhile being under your tutelage.

---

"Your teacher--there was an attack--"

Jing Yuan grabbed the gasping Cloud Knight by the shoulders, a forced smile on his face.

"Where?"

"Th-the apothecary. All the injured have been moved--"

"Thank you."

"Jing Yuan." The thundering voice behind him stopped him in his tracks. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To check on civilian casualties, sir."

"You are to stay here. Your team will be dispatched to the front lines."

"With all due respec--"

"Which means you have no respect, now shut up and get back to your squad."

The smile on his face tightened. "...Yes sir."

"You have a problem?"

As his teacher--probably dying because you're so weak and not actually fit for combat as you were for a battle of wits and chess--had told him many times, his smile definitely needed work.

---

"I'm so sorry for your loss."

He could say nothing. Your letter, long and meandering, lay across his lap.

"'I'm probably dead'," it read. "'I've written out my lessons for you, you cheeky brat. My ambitious and impatient Jing Yuan.'"

It detailed everything you wanted him to learn. It explained the reasons for each lesson and how it could be applied, though it often was written after large puddles of ink as though you hesitated to commit any of this to paper.

Rightfully so. Too much information at the wrong time is poison.

---

"Yes and no." Jing Yuan's smile grows wider. "My first teacher could barely lift a spear let alone spar anyone. But..."

"But?"

Looking at Yanqing, the breath of a laugh escapes him. "I never won against my teacher's smile and wits."

---

i love mentor-student dynamics. not the romantic type. if anything, it'd be a one sided romance. But god just imagine jing yuan pining after a teacher who is weaker than him or yanqing but was the one who taught him the art of speaking in riddles and enigmatic smiles and chess. just imagine.

[drivelings]

despite all the bugs and shit, i have been playing what in hell is bad. is this it? is this the beginning of my smut writing arc? is this where i finally get into fights with teenagers on the internet?

[drivelings]

Do you.. maybe.. have some thoughts on orv? 👀👀👀👀👀👀

Please???

It has all my favorite tropes. Enemies to not-really-lovers. Ride-or-Die. Recognizing a friend/enemy even when they've lost their form. Time loops. Outsmarting fate. Time skips. THE TRIFECTA OF THE MAIN CHARACTERS.

Spoilers below

I finished reading this at the expense of skipping work. I was rereading on a plane and trying not to cry. I just don't feel like writing any fics for it because I feel like it's pretty complete and uniquely because....KDJ basically wrote himself into his favorite story--what else do I need to do?

I love, love the implications throughout the whole story embedded within scenes. Some things aren't explicitly said and they didn't have to be explained. We knew. And if we didn't know, we'd go back and reread and understand, "Ah, so that's what he meant."

My favorite part is the Giant Squid stuff. That was so good--predicable, but so very good. That YJH really did get the Midday Tryst messages, already knew and acknowledged it but words are not his forte so he just kept fighting until his feelings and actions were acknowledged by KDJ.

I love YJH remembering the 0th and getting pissed about getting hit. I love HSY remembering. I keep fucking losing it whenever we get to the part where KDJ reads about what HSY did for him--about her squeezing every bit of her last words for him to read.

I love the 999th turn and their closure. I love how everything comes back full circle with, "I am Yoo Joonghyuk." I love how the actually story begins and how it actually ends. I love 999th Uriel's lines to the Oldest Dream--to acknowledge his suffering.

I LOVE PRISONER OF THE GOLDEN HEADBAND. I love him becoming the Oldest/Most Ancient Liberator. I love him recognizing KDJ even with the stupid Casanova Face. I love his reactions to the retelling.

All the characters are great. They're so cute. The plot is great and I just want to scream and scream.

Anyway, I like ORV quite a bit.

I don't have any deep analysis or anything because this is a translation so I'm acknowledging there's a bunch of things I've missed, but I really enjoy someone's thoughts that even though ORV is in first person, we never really know what KDJ is thinking. Either because he's beyond us or because he's not really forthcoming with himself due to his trauma. To be fair to him, he's a reader, not a writer. Some things just can't be put into words. You can't understand someone just by reading words on a page.

[drivelings]

all right which one of you fuckers got me shipping people in omniscient reader's viewpoint?? i'm not mad i just want to talk

i am supremely mad

[drivelings]

inspired by frieren chapter 108

going back in time and landing in your past self, not wanting to upset any time-continuity thing or change the past. you try to keep up pretenses to everyone that you're still the past you, but you say things you don't normally say, you act a little different than you 'normally' do, and everyone around you is concerned

but you don't remember how you used to act. you're still the same person you were in the past...weren't you? you wrack your brain, trying to remember how you changed and realizing you have no idea and can't put words or behaviors to it. you're still the same you to you, but to everyone else, the passage of time has become apparent.

in the end, everyone knows that you're not really you. some people think you're an enemy. others know it's you but a different you--a more mature you, a you who has seen more things than they have.

and you can't help but cry and mourn what could've been.

[drivelings]

“You--you’re...”

“A person.” The words fall out of Ace’s mouth, dropping down into a wind-swept whisper.

You stretch languidly, flexing your hands fully and curling them just to feel the blood rush through your fingertips. You flash the Heartslabyul students a grin and put your newly formed finger to your lips.

“Shh.”

----

Leona wrinkles his nose.

“The professor’s lapcat.”

---

“Oh my, I didn’t expect to find you in human form by yourself. Are you taking a walk?”

You wave at the upside-down student. “Lilia-sama. When’s the last time we saw each other like this?”

----

“Does Professor Trein know what Lucius is human?”

“Wait, or is Lucius a cat who can turn human? Like the Leech twins?”

---

BUT WHAT IF THE READER WAS ACTUALLY TRANSMORPHED AS LUCIUS, TREIN-SENSEI’S CAT??!???

[drivelings]

"She works on commission, so she won't be available for this."

"But if it's money, then don't we--?"

"She has a schedule to keep."

---

"Signature spell: BIPPIOTY--"

Every piece of fabric, including the ones on their person, seems to stand at attention.

"BOPPITY--"

There is a tension that crescendos in time with your wand, and he can already feel magic weaving itself into everything around him.

"BOO!"

Threads from every fabric explode into the air. It's a magnificent show of colors and string that comes together and hands over them like a tightly knit cave before they rearrange themselves, tightening up into their respective clothes.

There was an annoying smirk on your face the whole time.

"Madamoiselle. It's impolite and illegal to look at our bodies like that," Rook quips.

"There's nothing to see, Hunt. Don't flatter yourselves."

It's then he realized that metal underwear should be a thing. ---

The mirror connects people to more than just their dorms and their homes. It has to connect to the teacher's lounges and rooms, too.

---

Each dorm's uniform is especially made for their respective environments. Scarabia's clothes offer rudimentary cooling abilities and sun warding while not restricting movement. Octavinelle's clothes are made specifically to remove excess moisture.

--- You let out a frustrated sob between clenched teeth.

"What is wrong with those Heartslaybul kids?"

Color-changing resistent magic circles were embedded into their clothes shortly after.

---

"Even the soles of your shoes have magic circles on them."

--

"Malleus Draconia is the only person who screws around with the uniforms. Vanrouge has gotten him to stop, but it's been a hassle."

--

“Crowley.”

The Headmage saw your shadow eclipse the brief light that spilled from the door before its swallowed up in darkness again.

“Crowley,” you say again just as stern. “What have you done?”

“Whatever could you mean?”

“The magicless child. It’s like putting prey in a lion’s den--”

“Oh, I assure you, our lions are very tame and would never--”

“Crowley!”

He can feel his vest tighten, the very fabric bending to your will, your growing rage and dwindling patience.

“Now, now. No need for that sort of tantrum. I am taking care of our new Prefect out of the kindness of my heart.”

The vest only gets tighter.

---

“I want to go home,” Yuu cried. “I want to go home...”

You bite your lip, knowing full well there’s nowhere in this world where this child could go. Instead of answering, you hold open your robes and wrap them and your arms around the child. With shaky hands, Yuu clung to you.

A child, torn away from home for a world with nothing but the clothes on their back. A child at the tender age of...16, 17? Still not yet old enough to no longer need a parent’s love (and face it, there’s no real age for that), and not yet young enough to be considered helpless.

The magic mirror must have brought Yuu here, to your room, for a reason. You stare at it from the corner of your eyes. The abyss stares back.

[drivelings]

Night Raven College had strange rules like house sorting and wearing ceremonial robes for specific occasions.

One of the most inane rules was, "All ceremonial robes must be meticulously kept in its original form with no damaged thread, fabric, or other defects."

It was a moot rule because those robes were 'indestructible'.

They never got dirty even when the rowdier students ran through the rain and mud in them. They never seemed to get wet either. All attempts (especially by Savanaclaw) to cut holes in them for their ears ended up in chipped claws or damaged scissors.

People continued to try, much to the chagrin of the Headmage and Crewel.

And yours.

"I can't believe that Jack Howl grew again," you grumble as you squint at the newly updated numbers on the mirror. Upon admission to Night Raven College, all students are measured and meticulous records are kept constantly, discreetly to ensure the robe is properly adjusted for the wearer.

"It's the growth period for these little puppies," Crewel would say to you as he slaps the end of his crop against his hand. "We must maintain constant measurements. Fashion does not forgive cutting corners."

You tighten your fist around a stream of luxurious purple threads that were getting pulled through the air with magic. Damn that Divus Crewel. Who the hell does he think supplies him with all the fabric for his clothes?

From spool to spinning wheel, from spinning wheel to loom: magic is woven into the fabric in an ever encompassing shroud. The golden threads form magic circles and runes hidden in plain sight amidst an intricate design.

Cleaning magic, anti-cutting magic, consistent softness magic, anti-allergen magic--the number of magic circles embedded in just one of these robes would make any great magician's head spin. Not to mention maintaining homeostasis between each and every single spell to make sure none of them cancelled each other out, every spell has to be intricately and purposefully laid. Not to mention, it had to fulfill its main function of redistributing the wearer's power evenly across their body and suppress blot so it cannot affect any ceremony.

The robe was your magnum opus.

Every design had a purpose. Every detail was deliberate. From thread count to color to symbol--everything. Needless to say, alterations were few and far in between. Whenever there was an order for one, it was always an ordeal.

Like Malleus Draconia, for example.

Not only did Malleus have horns which necessitated the holes, but additional measures were needed to ensure excessive magic didn't leak out. One of 5 most powerful magicians--how were you supposed to contain and redistribute his power?

His enrollment into Night Raven College took you by surprise. You spent several months prior to his enrollment completely revamping his robe, nearly tearing out your hair several times as you consulted magician after magician after magician. Magic circles had to be relinked and replaced and rewritten, the design had to be slightly altered, and the addition of the horn holes meant you needed to compensate for the fact the fabric was cut and circuits were disconnected.

It was a miracle you even had it ready for the welcoming ceremony along with every new student's robes.

And Crowley had the nerve to tell you, "Your work is impressive as ever. I was right to ask for your help, and I even gave you half a year's notice. Aren't I so kind?"

It was a shame Vargas found you strangling Crowley with his own tie. He should’ve waited two more minutes. It earned you three months of leave, however, so it was all worth it.

---

reader who is the creator of the robes. I was like: these damn robes are way too detailed to not think about them. and so I was like what if there was someone who makes these and the embroidery are magic circles or something. look i just want to overthink this.

i also want to do one where we incorporate urban and guerilla warfare in a fight between the dorms. but that’s actually getting too real because seeing what’s happening with current events i’m like: yeah, yeah, that’s really smart strategy. but it’s also really tasteless to write about that. we’ll see where my morals go.

[drivelings]

Under different circumstances, we could have been friends.

-- 

On the battlefield, we are enemies. Here, in a cafe on a Sunday where we happened to coincidentally meet, we are strangers with things in common.

--

i just want to write about an enemies to lovers thing where neither of them are particularly hellbent on killing the other and it’s just a matter of circumstance that they fight. they trust and are otherwise amicable toward each other and plan their tactics around the fact the other is there, is cunning, and has a certain way of operating. and god forbid their opponent isn’t the one they expect and then they’re just bored and annoyed they spent so much time planning their shit around the other that they steamroll the interloper and send out a huge message blast taunting the other.

meeting by chance at a cafe and getting to talk to one another because they’re off duty and why not. too bad it’s seen by a fellow soldier or whatever and that starts some internal strife on both ends and now they’re both being hunted as they try to desperately make it to the other, realizing now that it is not only their life in danger but the other as well.

[drivelings]

There was poison on my tongue, blood on my hands, and an inky darkness that was overflowing from my heart.

--

something something i like jamil mostly for the aesthetic and voice. i know little to nothing about him story wise because it hasn’t come out in the eng version yet. but damn i could probably write leona. 10/10 would punch him if i ever met him.

[drivelings]

284.

"You must've been scared.”

---

“It’s not a matter of trust,” you shout. “I trust you all, but--”

Your hands tighten around your vest.

“I don’t know about magic, I don’t know if you guys can be forced to tell someone else this secret. It was never about trust. It’s about risk, and I did everything I could to protect myself.”

---

A large hand lands on your head, firm. His voice is steady as he declares, "You held out well."

For someone to acknowledge your suffering, for someone like Leona, a housewarden and prince to validate everything you've done so far, is everything you needed. Your choices to hide your gender wasn’t wrong. Your reasons were not misguided.

--

The thing about Twisted Wonderland is that Night Raven College is a boys only school. I like jfen’s interpretation that the Prefect (Yuu) is androgynous and has been hiding their gender the whole time.

but what if Savanaclaw knew? They’re lions and hyenas and all around furries with good noses and hearing. But because Leona’s still got principles and understands that one (1) lone woman who is human and magicless in a school full of immature magic users is constantly in danger, he tells everyone to shut the fuck up about it and pretend that’s not a thing until Yuu says so. The secret is kept close by Grim (surprisingly) and Ace and Deuce, and now by all members of Savanaclaw who are still rough because they can finally fight back against a woman (which they normally wouldn’t be canonically, women in the Savana are stronger than them for the most part). 

And what if it gets out one day? And everyone finds out? Leona comes forward to acknowledge Yuu’s struggles and draws the line for everyone and declares that anyone who tries to lay a hand on you because of your deception will be making an enemy of him.

I guess he’s an easier character to write than most others for me, but I’m not like....100% invested in this guy. Maybe after the rest of Chapter 3 comes out?

[drivelings]

283.

It's a lie to say that you haven't been feeling off lately.

There's a sluggishness to your bones, and a haze to your thoughts. Sometimes you'd blank out, standing in one spot for minutes at a time without realizing it. Other times, you'd be just going through your usual day, only to feel disconnected from it all like you're on autopilot. Things that made you happy became dull. You've been sleeping more, too, much to the chagrin of Grim and Ace and Deuce and everyone else.

Even stranger is that you began having more lucid dreams--dreams of your home, your actual home on Earth. You'd go through your life there as though you had never left, go through the motions of a full day, and wake up in your room in Ramshackle Dorm, confused and unsure of where you were.

---

"You're slipping away."

--

"Either your body is trying to return you to your world, or it's maladapting to this one. We've never seen something like this before, so I can't say what's going to happen to you if this keeps up."

--

"We have to speed up the research on your world."

--

"I might just disappear, is that it?" you ask bluntly. It's the unspoken conclusion that this conversation has ultimately led to. Guilt and unease settles on everyone's faces; no one is able to look at you.

Instead of fright or panic, you only feel sleepy.

[drivelings]

282.

"Okay. This mission--do you want to be a good couple or a bad couple?”

"A what?"

"You know. Do you want to be a lovey-dovey couple that look like they belong in a Hallmark movie that's 3 seconds away from turning into a steamy porno?

Or do you want to be a couple who has been together for 6 years, contemplating marriage because their parents are expecting it after so long and sunk-cost fallacy but they hate each other's guts and think having a marriage and a child will solve their problems?"

He stares at you blankly.

[drivelings]

281.

The message came into your emails between two pieces of spam mail, very much unlike those spy or mafia movies.

"Could you get a new mug for me? My old one broke. Thanks."

There was no indication of who sent you the message (and even the sender address was too generic to pin it to a person), but you knew who it was. This was the how many-ith time he asked for a new identity? You had half a mind to look up what happened to ‘Jesse McCree’, but then you’d have no plausible deniability if you did. That was the name that stuck the longest, too.

You stared at your screen for an incredulous moment and then leaned back hard, groaning. No one else in the office seemed to care, too busy trying to look busy. Typical of government jobs.

You could think about the request later. With a sigh, you closed the message and continued your job of processing applications for state IDs. While a majority of this was automated and verified via online process, some people still sent their applications on physical paper. You had to verify and process them for rejection or acceptance.

This made fulfilling requests like the one you just got incredibly easy. It was not too much trouble to forge and create a brand new application and pretend it was legitimate. The fake ID business was incredibly lucrative toward the end of the century as facial recognition and user tracking and verification became more prevalent and widely used. Those residing in the U.S. slowly lost the right to privacy in a roller coaster of national decisions in the past few decades. Whether it's for innocent or malicious reasons, fake identities became a hot commodity, and who could blame you for trying to cash in on it?

The work day crawled by as usual, and you went home at the same time you always did, and proceeded with your usual routines.

The next day was very much the same, sans email request.

And so was the next.

And the next.

Until you thought of a good name finally. The name was borderline genius.

You filled out an application offline, proudly writing 'Cole Cassidy' in the full name section, and sent it through snail mail, making sure the recipient address was to one that was previously given to you.

It took days for the application to reach your desk, but when it did, you processed it as per usual. Once you approved it, you did not think much on it. You did not hear from the requestor after that. The only indication that the request was fulfilled properly was that a five-figure credit was placed into one of your dummy bank accounts.

Money was sweet.

[drivelings]

You are not patient enough with yourself. And when you get impatient, and when things aren't going like you want at the rate you want, you default to what you always do: nothing.

[drivelings]

279.

He never learned how to live for himself, was never taught anything else but to yield to the will of others.

That changes today.