#Expert answer script

[saints-who-never-existed]

Ok, maybe this is a really stupid question, but why the hell did Tuunbaq consume souls? What does it do with them? Digest them? Tasty snack nomnomnom? Why not just kill those pesky sailors? I have an understanding of what Tuunbaq represents, but why the soul sucking? Sorry, I still have whiplash from that show…

Anyway, thank you for enlightening me in advance! <3

Not a stupid question at all!

I'm going to give an answer based more on personal knowledge and opinion rather than cold hard fact - apologies in advance if that's not what you're looking for. Rest assured though that this is something I intend to chase up further sources on and think/write a great deal more about in future. :)

For all you couldn't strictly define it as cannibalism, when I think of the Tuunbaq and its consumption of souls, I think of what I know about various cultures throughout the world that have practiced cannibalism historically, and I think about the reasons why they did so.

Often, it was a reverential and sacred practice, enacted in a very focused and particular way. In many cases, specific body parts were eaten with the intention that one would gain characteristics associated with the deceased - eating a man's heart to gain his courage, eating a person's eyes to gain insight or their brain to absorb in some way their wisdom.

I think that's part of why Tuunbaq eats souls. The men are invaders within the landscape who are alien in every conceivable way so it make sense to me that Tuunbaq could gain knowledge of/insight into/power over them by absorbing their souls - the very essence of who they truly are.

But I also see Tuunbaq's consumption of souls as something potentially more akin to exocannibalism - eating one's enemies as an open expression of hostility, the ultimate indignity, the most extreme act of domination. And make no mistake, Franklin's men are enemies.

They've invaded and desecrated the land, killed Silna's father, caused Tuunbaq to go "off" in the first place. It makes sense to me that an enemy of that magnitude would warrant the extra horror and indignity of their soul being consumed as well as their body.

[meo-eiru]

Hello everyone!

So as you might've noticed I wasn't that active these past few days, which was partially due to all the laptop problems I've been dealing with, but I'm here to announce there was one more reason!

🎉🎉I'm making a manga yayyy🎉🎉

Well to be more specific, I'm attempting to join a manga contest in Japan, with none other than this guy right here, who's name is now officially ���崎レン (Kurosaki Ren)

Now I'm not going to spoil anything about the actual story, but I have an entire chapter planned with a script (it took a while since I had to write it all in Japanese), now I just need to finish actually drawing everything

Because of that I'm unfortunately not going to be very active until around April 5th, I'll try to answer asks here and there but won't be able to post many drawings other than maybe some WIPs of the pages I'm working on.

Now I'm not an expert in drawing manga, I've only drawn a one shot once, so please keep your expectations low. But I'll say mutual obsession enjoyers might like this one😉

[deliciousangelfestival]

Change of Heart - 1 | Bucky

Character: Bucky x Female! Reader

Theme: Angst, tragedy, romance.

Summary: The interviewer asked her a provocative question:

“If you were offered a million dollars, would you leave your partner?”

Without hesitation, she replied with a smirk, “Give me one dollar, and I’ll leave him this second.”

True to her word, she walked away, leaving the man stunned and searching for answers. Now, he’s desperately trying to find her, grappling with the haunting question—why would she leave him so easily?

And is there more to her departure than a single dollar could ever explain?

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Time changes everything. Interviews used to take place indoors, in studios, or in booked hotel rooms. The questions were serious—focused on economics, politics, or other weighty topics. Back then, only experts or public figures were deemed worthy of being interviewed.

But now, thanks to social media, interviews can happen anywhere. They’re no longer the domain of reporters or TV stations. Instead, anyone with a phone, a camera, and a microphone can conduct an impromptu interview in random places.

These spontaneous interviews often gain far more attention than their polished, scripted counterparts on TV. On the streets, people are asked silly, lighthearted questions, and their candid, often hilarious answers resonate more with viewers. They feel authentic and relatable, unlike the carefully curated responses of experts.

Some people never imagine their offhand comments will make them go viral. Take the girl who became famous overnight for her absurd response to a random question—she jokingly told someone to spit. It was ridiculous, but human nature is unpredictable. The absurdity drew millions of viewers, and just like that, she became an internet sensation.

Today, another viral moment is taking over the internet. The current trend? A simple, loaded question:

“If you were offered 1 million dollars, would you leave your partner?”

Many people, interviewed alongside their partners, responded with sweet or heartfelt answers. But one woman gave a response that stopped everyone in their tracks:

“Give me 1 dollar. I’ll leave him this second.”

And the interviewer handed her the one dollar.

Her comment sparked chaos online. Most people laughed, seeing it as a joke and sharing it for its sheer absurdity:

“LMAO, this girl is my spirit animal!”

“She’s not wrong, though. 😂 Relationships are overrated!”

“The audacity! 😂😂😂”

However, not everyone found it funny:

“This is what’s wrong with society—no loyalty anymore.”

“Imagine being her partner and seeing this. Yikes.”

“If this is how people think these days, I’ll stay single forever.”

But there was one man who didn’t find it amusing at all.

He replayed the video, his expression unreadable, though the tension in his jaw betrayed his anger. The room was silent except for the faint hum of his phone’s speaker. His piercing gaze flicked to the woman sitting across from him as the video looped again.

Bucky Barnes hadn’t paid attention to what was happening online. As the CEO of the Lena Group, a leader in car and chip manufacturing, his schedule left little time for distractions. It wasn’t until his secretary and his mother mentioned the viral uproar that he decided to investigate.

Watching the clip now, he felt a surge of disbelief. Shock. Anger. He had worked tirelessly to build his empire, and yet here she was, casually dismissing him with a joke to a stranger.

“So,” he said, his voice cold as he set the phone down on the table, “you think I’m worth one dollar?”

She didn’t flinch under his icy glare. Instead, she calmly lifted her teacup, taking a slow sip before setting it back down. Her movements were measured, deliberate, as if his words carried no weight.

Meeting his gaze, she tilted her head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Now that I think about it,” she said, her tone casual, “70% discount sounds fair.”

His grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles turning white. “What’s the meaning of this?” he demanded, leaning forward, his voice sharper now.

Her expression didn’t waver. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m tired, Bucky. I’ve had enough.”

The room felt heavier, the unspoken words between them thickening the air.

His jaw clenched as he let out a heavy sigh. “You’ve got to be joking.”

His eyes searched your face for any hint of humor, anything to suggest you didn’t mean it. But there was none. Only calm resolve.

He looked at you—the woman he had married two years ago. The truth was, this wasn’t an ordinary marriage. It was what people called a contract marriage. But to Bucky, it was just business. Marriages forged to benefit two businesses had existed for ages, after all.

The so-called marriage contract was simply a guideline—a formal agreement to ensure both parties understood the terms, what was acceptable and what wasn’t. Many people chose contract durations of three or six years before going their separate ways. But Bucky had kept it simpler: a one-year contract, renewable if his wife agreed.

The reason he opted for this arrangement was to avoid the casualties of love. He’d seen it firsthand—his parents, who had started with love, had eventually torn each other apart, not literally, but close enough to leave scars on everyone involved. It was enough to make Bucky swear off traditional marriage altogether.

But his grandfather had other plans. “If you don’t marry, you’ll never inherit the company,” his grandfather had declared, determined to ensure his legacy stayed within the family. Having watched his son—a serial adulterer—destroy the family’s reputation, the old man had become obsessed with the idea of keeping his grandson grounded.

Bucky, however, had no interest in marriage. He had no desire for emotional entanglements or the drama that came with them. Yet his grandfather’s ultimatum left him with no choice. If he wanted to lead the company, he had to marry.

That was when he turned to a matchmaker agency, one well-known among his wealthy peers. It wasn’t cheap, but the agency had stellar testimonials, and they assured him they could find the perfect partner.

And they did.

That’s where he met you. You, too, were looking for something unconventional. You weren’t interested in traditional marriage and came from a good family background, which made introducing you to his parents remarkably easy. Despite his parents’ separation, you navigated the introductions with grace, impressing his mother and, surprisingly, his father.

The wedding happened quickly. You were the ideal partner—easygoing, understanding, and undemanding. When the first year of the contract ended, Bucky asked if you wanted to continue. You had simply smiled and said, “Yes.”

To him, that was enough.

Two years had passed since then, and he thought everything was fine. You never complained, never asked for anything more than the life you had agreed upon. He thought you were content. He thought you were okay.

But now, standing before you on the last day of the contract, he couldn’t reconcile the image he had of your quiet satisfaction with your answer in that viral video.

He stared at you, confused and hurt. “Why did you say it?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “Why give that answer? I thought everything was fine.”

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you glanced at your watch, casually checking the time. “I’m not,” you said, your voice calm, almost detached. “At 12 a.m., our marriage contract will be over. By tomorrow morning, I won’t be here.”

His mouth opened as if to protest, but no words came out. He reached for the black tea you had placed in front of him earlier, taking a sip. It had gone lukewarm—neither hot nor cold, a temperature he despised. It mirrored the hollow, uncomfortable feeling gnawing at his chest.

Finally, he set the cup down with a dull clink. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” he said, his voice firmer now, though tinged with weariness.

You said nothing in return, merely turned and walked away.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The next morning, when he woke up, sunlight was already streaming through the curtains. His eyes flicked to the clock on his nightstand—10 a.m. He sat up abruptly, his head spinning slightly from the sudden movement.

He rarely ever slept this late. For years, he had trained himself to wake by 5 a.m., no matter how little sleep he’d had the night before. Even on his most exhausting days, he never overslept. At most, he might sleep in until 6 or 7 a.m., but 10? Never.

Rubbing his temples, he tried to piece it together. What had made him sleep like this? He thought back to the night before, to your calm words, to the tea…

His hands froze mid-motion. The tea.

A surge of realization hit him. You drugged him.

He swung his legs out of bed, his movements sharp and full of urgency. Throwing on a robe, he stormed out of the bedroom, his voice cutting through the quiet house. “Where is she?”

The housemaid appeared, her expression hesitant and unsure. “She left, sir. Early this morning.”

His jaw tightened as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “And she didn’t say anything? Not a word?”

The maid paused, then held out a small item. “She left this, sir.”

He grabbed the velvet box from her hand, his chest tightening as he opened it. His breath caught at the sight of your wedding ring nestled inside.

For two years, he had worn his own wedding ring daily, thinking of it as nothing more than a piece of jewelry. But now, staring at your ring, it felt heavier than it should, as though it carried the weight of your departure.

Inside the ring box, you left the same crumpled dollar bill. It sat there like a cruel punchline, mocking everything he thought both of you had built together—a final, silent reminder of just how little she thought he was worth.

He set the box down on the table, his eyes scanning the room. When they landed on the wardrobe, he froze. It was still full. You hadn’t taken a single thing.

His mind raced. Where could you have gone? How did you vanish so quickly?

He reached for his phone, dialing his security team with shaky fingers. After two rings, someone picked up.

“Where is she?” he barked, his voice tight with frustration, the tension unmistakable.

The security officer on the other end hesitated. “Mrs. told us… madam wanted to meet her.”

His brows furrowed. “My mother?”

“Yes, sir. She’s in another state.”

That meant only one thing. You had gone to the airport.

“Did she take the private jet or a commercial plane?” he demanded.

“Commercial, sir. It was a last-minute trip, and we hadn’t prepared the jet.”

Bucky’s grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles whitening. His jaw clenched as frustration surged within him. He wanted to scream, to lash out at the sheer incompetence of his team. You fucking idiot. The words pounded in his mind, but he bit them back, forcing himself to stay composed.

“Who bought the ticket?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

“It was Mrs. who purchased the ticket herself.”

Bucky exhaled sharply through his nose, his patience wearing thin. He wanted nothing more than to explode, but he kept his voice steady. “Find out where she went.” Without waiting for a response, he ended the call.

Immediately, he dialed his mother. The line connected after a single ring.

“Hello.”

“I’m glad you called,” she said briskly. “Do you know what’s going on right now?”

His grip on the phone tightened. “Did you ask her to meet you?”

“Me? No, I—”

He ended the call before she could finish. That ruled out her involvement.

His mind raced as he considered the possibilities. If you had boarded a plane, he could easily track your destination. But the other option loomed: that the airport was a decoy. You had used his mother’s name as an excuse, ensuring your movements would go undetected by his security team, who clearly hadn’t been following you as closely as they did him.

Bucky’s phone buzzed. The confirmation from his team came through, and the news made his blood boil.

“Mrs. bought a plane ticket but didn’t get on the plane,” the head of security reported.

“Did you check the surveillance cameras?” he snapped.

“Yes, sir. We’ve reviewed the footage. There’s a woman with a similar appearance to madam who rented a car at the airport.”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, his frustration mounting. He sucked in a breath, exhaling slowly to keep his temper in check. So, it’s option two. You’re still in the same state.

“Great,” he muttered under his breath, pacing the room. He could feel the tension radiating through his body. “At least you didn’t go far.”

Without wasting another second, he barked into the phone, “Chase the car. Check every schedule she might have left behind, and contact her friends. I want updates—fast.”

Ending the call, he threw the phone onto his desk with a sharp clatter. Running a hand through his hair, he leaned against the desk, staring out the window as the weight of the situation pressed down on him. For someone who always had the upper hand, this was new territory. And he hated it.

Bucky sat in his office chair, staring at the empty ring box on his desk. His mind swirled with unanswered questions. Why had you suddenly left without a word? Both of you had been such a good team—practical, efficient, and untroubled by the complications that plagued most marriages. At least, that’s what he thought.

If he could, he would turn back time and relive the past few months, examining every moment you’d spent together. Had he missed something? Made a mistake? Or had something happened that he was completely unaware of? The uncertainty gnawed at him, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in years.

His phone buzzed, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“We found her. But…”

“What?!” he barked, standing abruptly.

“It’s not Mrs.,” the security team clarified hesitantly.

A chill ran down his spine. “Then who is it?”

“It’s her friend, sir.”

His stomach tightened, and for the first time in years, Bucky felt a flicker of fear. He thought he was closing in, that you were still within his reach. But now, you were out of his watch, slipping further away with every passing second.

“Secure her. I’m going to meet her,” he ordered, his voice cold and sharp.

“Yes, sir.”

"Prepare the car," Bucky ordered, his voice cold and demanding.

"But, sir, you have a meeting at 2 p.m", his assistant replied, hesitant.

Bucky shot him a sharp glare, his jaw tightening.

The assistant quicklu nodded. "I'll reschedule it, sir," he muttered avoiding Bucky's piercing gaze.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Minutes later, Bucky arrived at a quiet café where Grace was waiting under the watchful eye of his security team. The moment he saw her, he recognized her immediately—your friend, the one who had attended your wedding. Grace was the only person you had trusted with the details of this marriage contract.

Bucky approached the table, his expression unreadable, but his clenched fists betrayed the storm brewing inside him.

“Where is she?” His voice was steady, but there was an edge of desperation he couldn’t fully mask.

Grace avoided his gaze, staring down at the steaming cup of coffee in front of her.

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “I could raise my voice at you, but I won’t. Grace, please. Tell me where she is.”

Grace finally looked up, her expression guarded. “As far as I know, last night was the last day of your marriage. Today, she’s a free woman.”

Her words hit him harder than he expected, and for a moment, Bucky’s mask slipped. He stared at her, bewildered, the weight of everything sinking in. What had he done to make you leave? Had he overlooked something so significant? And why did Grace seem to despise him so much?

Before he could respond, his phone buzzed again. He stepped aside to take the call, his jaw tightening as he listened.

“Sir, we’ve reviewed additional footage. Mrs. used Grace’s ID to purchase another ticket. She’s already on the plane.”

Bucky’s grip on the phone tightened. His gaze snapped back to Grace, who was now watching him warily.

“Grace,” he began, his voice sharper this time. “I’m asking you again. Where is she?”

Grace shook her head, her tone calm but firm. “I don’t know.”

His frustration boiled over. He leaned forward, his palms flat on the table as he stared her down. “Don’t lie to me, Grace.”

She didn’t flinch. “I’m not lying. You don’t know anything about her.”

Her words struck a nerve, leaving him momentarily speechless. He straightened, trying to collect himself, but his mind was racing. Don’t know anything about her? He hated the implication.

“She trusted you,” he said, his voice low. “You were the only one who knew about the arrangement, the only one she confided in.”

“And that’s why I won’t betray her trust now,” Grace replied evenly.

Author Note: Do you found this interesting? Would you like it to be continued?

[not-terezi-pyrope]

AI continues to be useful, annoying everyone

Okay, look - as much as I've been fairly on the side of "this is actually a pretty incredible technology that does have lots of actual practical uses if used correctly and with knowledge of its shortfalls" throughout the ongoing "AI era", I must admit - I don't use it as a tool too much myself.

I am all too aware of how small errors can slip in here and there, even in output that seems above the level, and, perhaps more importantly, I still have a bit of that personal pride in being able to do things myself! I like the feeling that I have learned a skill, done research on how to do a thing and then deployed that knowledge to get the result I want. It's the bread and butter of working in tech, after all.

But here's the thing, once you move beyond beginner level Python courses and well-documented windows applications. There will often be times when you will want to achieve a very particular thing, which involves working with a specialist application. This will usually be an application written for domain experts of this specialization, and so it will not be user-friendly, and it will certainly not be "outsider-friendly".

So you will download the application. Maybe it's on the command line, has some light scripting involved in a language you've never used, or just has a byzantine shorthand command structure. There is a reference document - thankfully the authors are not that insane - but there are very few examples, and none doing exactly what you want. In order to do the useful thing you want to do, they expect you to understand how the application/platform/scripting language works, to the extent that you can apply it in a novel context.

Which is all fine and well, and normally I would not recommend anybody use a tool at length unless they have taken the time to understand it to the degree at which they know what they are doing. Except I do not wish to use the tool at length, I wish to do one, singular operation, as part of a larger project, and then never touch it again. It is unfortunately not worth my time for me to sink a few hours into learning a technology that you will use once for twenty seconds and then never again.

So you spend time scouring the specialist forums, pulling up a few syntax examples you find randomly of their code and trying to string together the example commands in the docs. If you're lucky, and the syntax has enough in common with something you're familiar with, you should be able to bodge together something that works in 15-20 minutes.

But if you're not lucky, the next step would have been signing up to that forum, or making a post on that subreddit, creating a thread called "Hey, newbie here, needing help with..." and then waiting 24-48 hours to hear back from somebody probably some years-deep veteran looking down on you with scorn for not having put in the effort to learn their Thing, setting aside the fact that you have no reason to normally. It's annoying, disruptive, and takes time.

Now I can ask ChatGPT, and it will have ingested all those docs, all those forums, and it will give you a correct answer in 20 seconds about what you were doing wrong. Because friends, this is where a powerful attention model excels, because you are not asking it to manage a complex system, but to collate complex sources into a simple synthesis. The LLM has already trained in this inference, and it can reproduce it in the blink of an eye, and then deliver information about this inference in the form of a user dialog.

When people say that AI is the future of tutoring, this is what it means. Instead of waiting days to get a reply from a bored human expert, the machine knowledge blender has already got it ready to retrieve via a natural language query, with all the followup Q&A to expand your own knowledge you could desire. And the great thing about applying this to code or scripting syntax is that you can immediately verify whether the output is correct but running it and seeing if it performs as expected, so a lot of the danger is reduced (not that any modern mainstream attention model is likely to make a mistake on something as simple a single line command unless it's something barely documented online, that is).

It's incredibly useful, and it outdoes the capacity of any individual human researcher, as well as the latency of existing human experts. That's something you can't argue we've ever had better before, in any context, and it's something you can actively make use of today. And I will, because it's too good not to - despite my pride.

[secretlovelygarden]

I’ve never experienced anything like this. How they have treated us since the beginning of the season is absolutely disgusting. I've never felt as insulted. The level of gaslighting is just unacceptable and plain gross. Our critical thinking skills have been questioned repeatedly.

We're not silly teenagers whose main criteria for liking a character are based on whether the actor is conventionally attractive or not. The show is for adults with very adult themes, and most of us are professionals in a variety of fields. We're not involved in the entertainment industry, but we are allowed to make criticisms. Criticism is valid, so long as it is not an attack on the person's character.

Instead of reacting defensively to criticism, it should open the door to a mature, intelligent discussion. Just because one of the people involved in a discussion is the so-called expert doesn´t mean they're right, and the answer shouldn't be to attack or question the other person's critical thinking skills.

Most of us have followed the show since 2016 and have read both books. We have rewatched the previous seasons many times and have spent a lot of time studying the characters, dissecting their personalities, flaws, and motivations. Gaslighting doesn't work because it's not our fault if what was intended in the scripts didn't translate well on screen.

We'll learn our lesson: that is better to approach TV shows from a more casual point of view. That is ok to abandon them when there's a drop in quality, or when the feelings they used to evoke are no longer there. Our loyalty and time are precious.

I hope they learn their lesson: that it's never ok to insult the audience, to allow some actors to question our mental health, to filter the messages on social media, and only allow the favorable ones, while allowing personal attacks on one of the actors' appearance and acting skills. And most important of all: to manipulate an important part of the audience with only a monetary gain in mind.

Good luck with the sequel and the final episode. I won't be watching either.

[kaibutsushidousha]

The Hundred Line writing team interview from Famitsu issue 1895

Let's start off establishing what each of you do in the game.

Kazutaka Kodaka: The project was originally my idea, and I worked as the General Director and Story Director.

Koutarou Uchikoshi: I worked primarily as a Writer, and also as Director No. 2.

Mr. Togawa, Oyama, Ishii, and Koizumi, please tell us your career history in addition to your role.

Akihiro Togawa: I worked as Gameplay Director, Writer, Screen Composition Director, Schedule Manager, Task Distributor, Debug Manager, and various other miscellaneous roles. I previously worked at Atlus's Team Persona. My roles in the Persona series included Section Leader and Story Director.

Kyouhei Oyama: Aside from being a Writer, I'm the writer in charge of the off-game stories. I was originally a light novel author, but then switched to a freelance game writer job. After working as the main writer for the VR visual novels Tokyo Chronos and ALTDEUS: Beyond Chronos, I was lucky enough to become a member of Too Kyo games.

Nonon Ishii: I'm a Writer and created the Invaders' language. I took a college internship at Too Kyo Games and made my employment official immediately after graduation. This will be my debut title and even I can't believe how massive of a game I'm starting off with.

Youichirou Koizumi: I'm a writer. I knew Kodaka and Uchikoshi since my novelist days and we have been working together since before we founded Too Kyo Games.

I'd like to ask Mr. Kodaka and Uchikoshi how do you feel now that development is finished (note: this interview was conducted on February 28th) and you are now just waiting for the release day.

Kodaka: I'm excited to see what people will say about it, considering that this game is in so many ways different from what I've done before. I'm relieved to see that the Steam demo has been incredibly well-received. I believe that the demo was the right marketing strategy, both for sales and for my mental health. There was a time I was worried about this selling less than a thousand copies, but not anymore (pained laughter).

Uchikoshi: Same answer as Kodaka. We tried a lot of new things, and that got us with a script not only huge but also made through a unique process. I was never capable of imagining player reactions, so no guessing how they'll feel about until I see it happen. In that sense, what I look forward to the most are the post-release reviews.

Was it decided from the get-go that the script size would be humongous?

Kodaka: One of the initial concept keywords was "a visual novel that never ends". We want to create a VN that a player could keep playing for as long as they still wanted, so we predicted a sizable script. We made a game with 100 routes and left the story branching direction to the expert, Uchikoshi. The game was envisioned as an Uchikoshi title first and foremost: everything was built upon the idea of having many routes, and it worked. I can confidently say the game is good.

Uchikoshi: However, we also made it so you don't have to play every route to fully enjoy it. Kodaka's order was to make every route feel like it could have been the true route, so we made different stories covering various genres. We want you find your favorite route and interpret that one as the true ending.

This game is Kodaka's and Uchikoshi's first collaboration. Did you discover anything new about each other working together?

Kodaka: We didn't spend the whole time in neighboring desks, and had distinctively separate tasks, so not really…

Uchikoshi: I just confirmed what I already knew: that Kodaka is an amazing director. Now I see that the reason for that is his willingness to be mean. I keep my distance from my staff, so I struggle to tell them that A was actually supposed to be B. Kodaka doesn't. He makes difficult requests and the staff listens to him because these corrections make the game incredible. I respect and want to learn from him, because that's how a director needs to be.

Kodaka: If you don't say things would be better another way, you'll only regret it later. When I talked about my struggles to a famous anime director, he said "You may think things are acceptable as they currently are, but after you put in the work to improve them, you won't feel the same way." and that really clicked with me. Since then, I stopped holding back on what I tell the staff.

Do you all have any particularly memorable correction requests from Kodaka?

Koizumi: None that I can remember.

Kodaka: That's because you only joined the writing team later. There was barely anything left to fix at that point.

Uchikoshi: Media Vision, the developer, was who had it the roughest, no?

Togawa: No, their problems passed from person to person until they reached me (pained laughter). But none of that ever felt unreasonable. When Kodaka explained something, it was always easy to agree that it would make the game better, so I was constantly feeling positive about my work. However, as the Schedule Manager, there was some internal conflict between "this is guaranteed to improve the game" vs "this will add so many work hours".

Oyama: I loved how this was an easy environment for us writers to get all of our ideas implemented, as the only condition given is that they don't suck. Whenever I had nothing to fix, I'd just come up with something funny, and if the proposal passed the "interesting" threshold, it'd be approved. So it's hard to answer about difficulties when this has been one of the easiest jobs ever.

Ishii: They even implement ideas from a total novice like me. I remember the joy I felt I saw that an idea I came up with on the spot in the middle of a meeting made it into the game.

Kodaka: That's because I'll be taking credits for my subordinates' achievements (laughs).

(laughs) What was the writing process like?

Kodaka: Due to the immense size of this game's script, we decided to split the work between the team. I wrote the main route, then based on that, Uchikoshi came up with the branching system and general ideas for what goes in which branch story, and lastly, we distributed the routes to the writers as necessary. There's only 6 of us here, but including the guest writers, I'd say the game was written by about 10 people.

How did you decide who gets each route?

Uchikoshi: Some they chose, some we assigned to them.

Koizumi: All of mine were just assigned to me without warning (laughs).

Togawa: I didn't get to choose anything either (laughs).

Kodaka: That's because you two joined later. The writers joined the project at different dates. At first, it was just Uchikoshi and Ishii, plus people who aren't here today. Oyama and Koizumi joined in this order, and Togawa was the last. When was it that you entered the team, Togawa?

Togawa: August 2023, I think. It was around that time that I sorted out our schedule and figured out that we'd need a miracle to salvage this production.

Kodaka: Meaning that by September 2023, the writer team wasn't complete yet (pained laughs).

Togawa: I rebuilt that schedule over and over again, but even my best attempts left me unsure if we could deliver the game in time. As such, I had to make Kodaka also write some side routes, and with that, we somehow managed to put the script together.

Yeah, I can see that happening when you have 100 routes…

Kodaka: Still, there were some new discoveries that would never have happened if we weren't splitting the work like this. This is my first time making other people play with my characters, so proofreading the other routes was a kind of fun I never knew before. The feeling of "Is this really what my character would do in this scenario?" is very new and interesting. It's also fun to pick out on each writer's peculiarities. For example, Uchikoshi fans will immediately be able to notice when a route is written by Uchikoshi.

This game features a cast of very unique characters. What was the process of creating them like?

Kodaka: I came up with all the characters on my own, and the first thing I had settled on was that the Special Defense Unit would have 15 students. What changed is that I intended the students to be more down-to-earth characters, but as I kept adding quirks whenever I was finding them too generic, they came to become what they are now.

Uchikoshi: Is that why the characters who join later (Nozomi Kirifuji, Kurara Oosuzuki, Kyoshika Magadori, Yugamu Omokage, Mojiro Moko) are the most eccentric ones?

Kodaka: That was the intention… we even talked about making the designs of the initial team (Takumi Sumino, Takemaru Yakushiji, Hiruko Shizuhara, Darumi Amemiya, Eito Aotsuki, Tsubasa Kawana, Gaku Maruko, Ima Tsukumo, Kako Tsukumo, Shouma Ginzaki) more down-to-earth, but I couldn't handle it. At all. Still, because I initially tried to make the initial squad more down-to-earth, the additional squad naturally came to be the eccentric side.

How did the mascots SIREI and NIGOU originate?

Kodaka: The main thing with SIREI and NIGOU was trying to do something different from Danganronpa's Monokuma and Rain Code's Shinigami. His conduct is similar to them, but I wrote his dialogue with a militaristic flavor in hopes to make him feel more petty and cunning. Being able to have Houchuu Ootsuka voicing SIREI and Ikue Ootani voicing NIGOU was also excellent for distinguishing them from Monokuma and Shinigami.

Was there any character who was easier to write or more challenging?

Kodaka: Danganronpa had characters I didn't know how to use well, but this time, everyone was easy. But I have to say Kirifuji was the one who required the most restraint. She's the one character with nothing crazy going on, so I made sure not to make any dumb jokes with her, as she'd be the one I'd use to recenter myself after going too far in one direction.

What about you, Uchikoshi?

Uchikoshi: All characters had very distinct personalities, which made them all easy to write, but Darumi's dialogue is what came the most naturally to me.

Kodaka: Did bullying Darumi come just as naturally?

All: (laughs)

Uchikoshi: I was doing the screen composition for my routes and the sprite selection for Darumi was the most fun part because all of her expressions fit just right with any of her lines. The hardest was Omokage, I guess.

Kodaka: Omokage's dialogue is annoying to type. You need to manually fix the IME conversion every time (pained laughs).

Uchikoshi: I didn't mean the conversion (laughs). I wasn't good at gauging how much Omokage was interested in killing the other characters. He was difficult.

Togawa: Omokage was the hardest for me, too. It took me until the very end before I grasped his way of thinking.

Kodaka: Omokage's character is easy to understand if you play his solo scenes. But I only wrote that after you had already worked on him…

Togawa: His solo scenes are exactly what made me understand what Omokage was like (awkward laughs).

Did you not make character profiles and background documents for your writers to peruse while writing?

Kodaka: Ishii made his own basic profiles, but I didn't make any comprehensive documents. I know this is not a good practice to have, but the script I wrote already had everything, so I made them read the story to understand the characters.

Interesting. And what character was smooth sailing for Togawa?

Togawa: Magadori and Oosuzuki as a duo. They have so much chemistry that any idea I could have naturally converted into fun dialogue when put to paper. Also, Kawana was easy to write. I love, love, love nice girls like her (laughs).

Kodaka: Honestly, Kawana is so down-to-earth that I always found her scenes lackluster when I wrote them. For that reason, reading the routes that star her was really eye-opening. I'm glad to have someone else writing her, because I couldn't make her good.

Uchikoshi: Kawana really shines the brightest when the writer is Togawa or Koizumi.

Maybe the lack of proper character profiles was what allowed them to fill the gaps so well. Now, what about you, Oyama?

Oyama: Omokage was the easiest. I couldn't understand the way he thinks, but once I realized that I don't need to understand him to write him, he became so heavily featured on my routes that you could easily assume Omokage is the main love interest of the game (laughs). Him aside, I had an easy time with Magadori and Mojiro, characters simple in what makes them tick. The biggest challenges were Takumi and Kirifuji. Characters that are too relevant to the plot are very influenced by what is happening at the moment, so very often I didn't know how to write them.

And you, Ishii?

Ishii: Since my routes were the most comedy-heavy ones, Maruko and Magadori were the easiest. Their overblown reactions to things are hilarious, and the only thing you need to add there to complete a scene is clever commentary from Takumi. Meanwhile, the toughest ones to write were the zealous pair of Yakushiji and Mojiro. I struggled with Yakushiji because I don't know how to make the delinquent archetype appealing, and my lack of wrestling knowledge added a lot of extra work when coming up with references for Mojiro.

Togawa: But thanks to wrestling documentaries, you familiarized yourself with wrestling history and techniques.

Ishi: Yes, I was indeed studying through documentaries to put wrestling moves in my story (laughs).

And what character were you the best or worst with, Koizumi?

Koizumi: I can't think of anyone I didn't know how to handle. For the easiest to write, I wanted to choose students that haven't been mentioned yet, but no, my routes have way too much Magadori, Oosuzuki, and Kawana screentime for it to be anyone else. I'm very strongly attached to these three in particular, and that makes them easy to write.

Kodaka: Since you wanted a character no one mentioned, didn't you have a rough time with Ginzaki? I remember you running out of self-deprecation vocabulary to use at some point.

Togawa: We all researched that independently, meaning Ginzaki's self-debasing lexicon will be very different from route to route.

Kodaka: I was implementing insults I came across online. Just scrolling through social media and going "Wow, this insult is GOOD!" (laughs).

In this age of stricter regulations, I feel like this game really strikes the limits of what is allowable to depict. How did the writing team delineate what it could and couldn't do?

Kodaka: I asked everyone to consult me whenever in doubt, and drew the line at specific points like "no poking fun at real wars". That said, I thought I had kept the sex jokes to a minimum, so it came as a shock to me when I saw a demo review say "too many sex jokes". In my head, the first 7 days playable in the demo had no dirty jokes at all, so my honest first reaction was "WHERE?!".

All: (laughs)

Koizumi: A huge chunk of the dirty jokes got weeded out. The initial version of the script had some really extreme ones…

Kodaka: The woman in the writing team said my jokes were too much, so I did away with them. But then she had no opinions on Uchikoshi's.

Uchikoshi: I was trying to write mine in Kodaka's style, so I have no idea why I didn't get the same reaction (awkward laughs).

Kodaka: The ultimate consequence of that was the sex jokes in Uchikoshi's scripts being more numerous and risqué than in mine (laughs).

Tells us about any memorable situations in the production process.

Kodaka: Splitting the screen composition work with other people was unusual. In my previous works, I handled all the composition on my own, but this time I was working with too big of a script… Since doing it on my own would have taken 5 years (strained laughs), I put Togawa in the schedule management role and made each writer responsible for the screen composition in their respective routes.

Togawa: The decision to let the writers build their own scenes was stressful, considering the schedule was already tight before, and a few of them had never done that before.

By the way, who had never done this before?

Togawa: Oyama and our rookie Ishii.

Oyama: As such, I had to ask questions to Togawa on the desk next to mine every time I didn't know how to do something (laughs).

Kodaka: The writing was generally done remotely, but then everyone had to come to the office to input their scripts into the screen format. Having everyone together facilitated the process of creating the cores of the game's presentation system, and let questions be instantly cleared up.

Togawa mentioned being initially anxious about distributing the screen composition work, but looking back now that it's over, how was it like?

Togawa: Everyone worked hard to follow my schedule, and working together is more exciting than working alone. The most memorable part was how fast Oyama learns. Oyama was a computer-illiterate man who only ever used MS Word. Nonetheless, when he discovered the joy of assigning visual assets to his lines of text, he evolved at breakneck speeds. It was a nostalgic experience, reminding me that I was just like him when I first joined the gaming industry (laughs).

What a heartwarming thing to say in a story about a tight schedule (laughs). Were there any other major advantages to splitting and distributing the screen composition work?

Kodaka: I feel like having to do their own screen composition made the writers learn more about the stories they wrote.

Koizumi: True. Having to select sprites and expressions for every line made me want to edit my scripts, and I could feel the story becoming better as the screen composition process progressed.

Kodaka: It does help polishing the plot. The reason why I have always been doing my own screen composition is because I still would be editing a lot regardless of who made it. I can easily imagine myself going "Nah, this line doesn't work with this sprite". Not to sound too obvious, but a story's writer is always the most qualified person to choose what expression is best placed on each line of dialogue. Building screens also teaches you to pace your scenes. And it will give you a better feel for things when you start writing your next game's script. I believe a game writer's job should always include the screen composition part.

A humanoid Commander for the Invader squad appeared in the demo. Mr. Ishii told us that he was in charge of the Invader language. Can you tell us how you came up with it?

Ishii: Too Kyo's visual designers created the alphabet and my job was to create the pronounced language. The exact mission prompt was to create a Japanese-style syllabary (48 sounds) using phonetic moras that resembled spoken French. The problem is that I don't speak French, so the first step was to constantly listen to French in multiple video apps and engrave the French phonemes into my skull. After I had enough of a notion, I lined up 48 French-sounding syllables and fit them into a kana table. With this conversion, the Invader language was complete.

Uchikoshi: I've already seen people analyzing it. 

Ishii: That was a shock to me too. Really impressive considering the sounds were assigned to the letters at random.

Kodaka: Did anyone leak the alphabet?

All: (laughs)

We didn't get to see the Invaders language much in the demo, did we?

Kodaka: They figured it out from the letters that appear together with "New Game", "Continue", "Load" etc. on the title screen.

Ishii: As the one who came up with the language, the fact that people are willing to speculate and analyze under limited information makes me really happy.

Speaking of the Invaders, buffing the ally who finished off the Commander was a pretty original gameplay mechanic. How did you come up with that?

Kodaka: I noted down gameplay ideas while planning the base plot. Things like "I want this battle to have a higher number of enemies" or "I want this battle to use the entire team". One of the ideas I jotted down there was "I want the act of finishing the enemies off to look cruel", and when Media Vision converted that into the game format, they turned into a mechanic that buffs party members.

The coup de grâce cutscene being first-person from the enemy Commander's perspective was impactful.

Kodaka: I'll have to be honest, we only made it from the enemy's perspective to cut corners. I did make an animated cutscene where the Commander appears at the end, but that wasn't part of the initial production plans. We didn't have the time or hands to make 3D models of all Commanders just for a coup de grâce cutscene. We discussed various presentation ideas and came up with the enemy POV where we could use the pre-existing 3D models of the party. By using the enemy's perspective, we were able to further emphasize how fearsome and brutal the party members can be, so that was ultimately for the best.

I'd like to ask a few questions to the Gameplay Director, Mr. Togawa, about mechanics and balance. In my playthrough, I noticed a lot of tricks that the player is able to exploit. It's a superbly polished game, really. How was the development process for the battles?

Togawa: When I joined the battle team, the first thing I did was rethink the game's experience blueprint from the start. Although the battles back them already had a core set of rules, they failed to stand out in comparison to other tactical RPGs and felt obtuse regarding extremely important parts: "what's meant to be a cathartic moment for the player'' and "what's the intended experience for this particular battle". After mulling over the question of what's meant to be a cathartic moment in The Hundred Line's battles in my head, the answers I came up with were "the thrill of wiping hordes of enemies in one move" and "the puzzle element of letting the player assemble the route to get there with some degree of freedom".

I can see that.

Togawa: The design process involved coming up with mechanics, balancing the game around them, etc. for the purpose of setting this cathartic moment as the goal and actualize a battle system that lets the player use diverse methods to reach it. For some basic examples… Including the Special Attacks for the aforementioned thrill of wiping hordes, making character abilities more niche to increase the number of options, etc.

The Invader placement on the board is also exquisite. Knowing how to beat the enemies right increases your number of actions, so things look beatable on really short turn counts.

Togawa: I care a lot about enemy placement. Initially, we had flocks of enemies near Yakushiji, the guy with the wide attack range. But making the intention there too obvious would led to the player feeling handheld and losing excitement. So we adjusted things to let the player figured out on their own how they can take out a swarm in one go.

I also thought that the element of turning party member defeat into a positive to be really well-thought-out, despite the insanity of it.

Togawa: Thank you (laughs). The mechanic of using the lives of your party as disposable tools is a conceptual opposite of traditional tactical RPGs, where you want to avoid harming your party as much as possible. I'm proud to say no one does it like The Hundred Line does. The answer to the question of "what is the battle functionality of sacrificing your friends in THL?" is one that spent a lot of time in the oven. I believe that when you reach the ending, you'll come out of it feeling that this mechanic made the narrative far more immersive.

I look forward to learning the answer to the mystery. I was also surprised by how challenging the battles were. In a September 2024 presentation, Kodaka said that story-driven games want to keep difficulty on the lower end, so I was worried the game would feel lacking to fans of the genre.

Kodaka: Sorry about that. The battle gameplay underwent a lot of adjustments after September, including difficult changes, meaning what I told you in an interview back then is simply not true for the finished version of the game. Back then, I believed the battle gameplay had hit the low ceiling for the best form it could take, but luckily, Togawa finished his screen composition duties around that same month and moved on to balance adjustment. Togawa proposed to keep tweaking the game until the last day of the contract and Media Vision was kind enough to accept those terms, resulting in the last push that elevated the battle quality. Disregard what I said in previous sessions.

Togawa: Every single battle in the game has been altered after September. I'd spend every day on hours-long conversations with Media Vision's director and fine-tuning everything. We also revised character abilities, and there's even one character that had their Specialist Skill changed post-September. There are more things I'd have liked to try with more time, but what I couldn't do here will have to be saved for the sequel… if there ever is one.

Isn't it too early to be thinking about a sequel? I mean, are you not planning any DLC?

Kodaka: None. Everything The Hundred Line could have is already packed in the game. Future plans can always change later, but if I was forced right here right now to come up with an expansion for the franchise, I think I'd do prequel novels covering key moments in the lives of the members of the Special Defense Unit. Shizuhara's backstory is already covered in Oyama's Former Lives of the SDU: File 03 - Hiruko Shizuhara's First Battle, so I suppose it'd be nice to have novels for the rest as well.

Uchikoshi: Sounds feasible. Novels aren't limited by the game's assets, meaning they can be set in places that don't appear in-game.

Togawa: Didn't Oyama want to write the story of the Commanders? There is one stand-out character among the enemy Commanders and Oyama was excitedly imagining a story where this one wins (laughs).

Oyama: I still want to write that if given the chance (laughs).

It won't be long until The Hundred Line's release. Please explain the game's appeal to the people who haven't played the demo yet.

Kodaka: I imagine they're already expecting a good story, and my play experience tells me the game is also well-made as a tactical RPG. Trying out the story and gameplay on the demo would be ideal, but what's shown there is barely a glimpse of the full picture. The 8th day marks the start of a constant stream of incredible events, so I hope the demo players are looking forward to what's coming next.

A closing message from each of you to the fans looking forward to the game.

Togawa: The Hundred Line is my first Director work. I used everything I learned up to this point to honor this title. The staff devoted heart and soul into constructing this, and I can say with my whole heart that the game is good. Please purchase it and experience the crazy world we created. I can think of one scene that will catch a lot of people off-guard.

Oyama: As Togawa just explained, so much effort went into this game that I don't even want to imagine the timeline where it flops (awkward laughs). All I have right now is a wish for success. Please, play my game and spread the word if you like it. @'ing or DM'ing me with your reviews would make my day.

Ishii: When I was first briefed on this project, I was impressed at the amount of text it took to make a visual novel, but later, my more experienced colleagues explained to me that this project was abnormal (laughs). We're delivering a title that demonstrates Too Kyo Games is as "too crazy" as the name says. I hope you enjoy the wildness of it. I'm looking forward to the reviews.

Koizumi: The Hundred Line is Too Kyo's first original IP. It'd be accurate to say the company was made specifically to produce this game, which naturally makes me invested in wanting more people to have a good time with it. Nothing can be better than seeing people grateful that the developer Too Kyo Games exists. 

Uchikoshi: Repeating something I said before: I hope you can find one route among the many to be your favorite. And to the completionists wanting to play every route: be my guest.

Kodaka: Fresh news, never revealed before: there is a route where everyone survives. I got really emotional reading this one. You're free to stop playing whenever you're satisfied, but I believe you'll have a tough time coming across another game as wild as this, so I'd like you to savor it as much as you can.

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Links:

Design team interview

Music team interview

Special guest interview

[kiragecko]

Today In: Experts in Anything Wildly Overestimate the Average Person's Familiarity with Their Field.

[Mild spoilers ahead. Chants of Sennaar is AMAZING, please try it if you're interested in puzzles and/or linguistics!]

I was watching a playthrough of Chants of Sennaar, today. I was doing pretty good at understanding that the couple weren't linguists, and had no interest in historical scripts, so they were going to figure things out in different ways than I did. But then they got up to the "Scientists" level, saw the Scientists' script, and didn't IMMEDIATELY say, "Oh, they're ALCHEMISTS!"

Baffling.

Alchemical symbols aren't common knowledge???? The conventions are so distinct! Like, the first non-number they showed clued me in! The symbols used aren't actual alchemical symbols, but ... the inspiration is really obvious.

And then they ALSO didn't immediately jump from "Alchemist" to "transmuting lead into gold" when they DID learn their name? Like, that isn't the ANSWER, but it definitely gets you on the right path in short order. And they just never seemed to think anything about why they were named the way they were.

Apparently, casually reading about alchemy ISN'T a universal experience. Not everyone wants to find out why the planets have weird symbols, and then spends several days getting deeper into the ridiculous and cool beginnings of modern science.

I ... don't understand. People don't even know aqua vitae (🜈) and vitriol (🜖)? Okay, but at least they know mercury (☿). Everyone knows Mercury, right??

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Dramaturgy

Dramaturgy - the study and practice of using dramatic composition to represent a scene on stage in performances, world-building, and historical contexts.

Dramaturgs have an interdisciplinary job in which they help open up and clarify the world of a production from different perspectives:

Study dramatic productions: Production dramaturgs study dramatic productions such as musicals, operas, and plays to represent and contextualize the given story in a way that makes historical and dramatic sense. A dramaturg has extensive theater history knowledge and experience building narrative structures and analyzing dramatic literature.

Perform script analysis: Dramaturgs can provide key script analysis for playwrights, musical theater writers, producers, and directors to help identify the most (and least) exciting parts of the narrative. They also suggest ways to improve the structure, clarify the timeline or setting of a piece, and help logically develop the story.

Conduct research: An expert’s dramaturgical analysis may also include research for directors, production teams, or costume designers for historical accuracy, making sure that details such as language, clothing, or behavior accurately match the specific period.

Theory of Dramaturgy

Sociologist Erving Goffman developed a sociological theory applying dramaturgy as a theatrical metaphor for human beings in the world.

Human behavior: Goffman’s sociological, dramaturgical approach likens human behavior in real life to a continuous play, and every person is an actor. Goffman first introduced his dramaturgical theory in his 1959 text The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life.

Symbolic interactionism: Goffman posits that you are set on a stage from the day you are born and that your symbolic interactions with other people (and vice versa) determine your roles—who you are and how you behave. Humans use impression management to attempt to control how they are seen and regarded through appearances, manners of interacting, and behavior.

Front stage vs. backstage: Goffman’s theory of dramaturgy divides human life into front stage and backstage activity. The front stage is where you live out your normal, public life—working at your job, going to dinner, and aspects of social life. The backstage, or off stage, is the private area where you can be your true self without managing others’ impressions or expectations. The backstage is where you practice your future performances on the front stage for all to see and work to refine others’ perceptions of you.

Examples of Dramaturgy

Dramaturgic interactions unfold both in the entertainment world and in everyday life. Here are some examples of dramaturgy that you might see in the real world, in which the same people inhabit different roles or behaviors in related situations.

In the classroom: A professor giving a lecture to dozens of students is giving a front-stage dramaturgical performance. They will likely present themselves in professional attire to give the appearance of a qualified, trustworthy individual. The professor creates their lesson plan and prepares their lecture when they are backstage, in the privacy of their own office, or wearing pajamas at home.

During an interview: A person interviewing for a job will use the backstage to prepare for their interaction with the hiring manager. They may rehearse practice answers, what not to say, or work on their anxious behaviors to influence a desired impression. Their front-stage behavior will be markedly different from their rehearsed backstage practice to inform how the hiring manager perceives them, which may leave a better impression.

While babysitting: A babysitter may dress casually and behave more childishly to make the child they are supervising feel more comfortable. The adults who babysit children may not play with toy trains or dolls in their private life, but they will pretend like they do to control the child’s impression of them and create a pleasant social interaction.

During athletic competitions: Athletes may have a perfectly confident front-stage persona, making the audience feel like they are effortlessly defying gravity. However, they may be anxious backstage, repeatedly going over their moves and mantras to put on the best performance.

The etymology of “dramaturgy” comes from the Greek word “dramatourgía,” meaning “action of a play.”

Theater historians believe that the philosopher and scholar Gotthold Ephraim Lessing was the first dramaturg: The Enlightenment-era writer first used the term in the Hamburgische Dramaturgie (“The Hamburg Dramaturgy”), a series of essays he wrote on dramatic theory in the 1760s.

In a work of drama, film, and storytelling, dramaturgs research the given period of a story, who its players would have been, and the social climate of the time. This historical context strengthens a play’s development, the actor’s relationship with the text, and its relationship with the audience.

Dramaturgy is an in-depth study of the work that playwrights, screenwriters, and directors create. Writers and directors may take on the role of the dramaturg themselves if they possess enough know-how and experience. The social sciences also apply a sociological perspective to dramaturgy, likening human interaction in everyday life to theatrical performance.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of Starlight - Part 7

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

word count ; 4.6k

warning; /

notes; hope that you enjoy the chapter ... <3

here is the link for part 6 or part 8

---

The walk back to your shop was quiet, the night air cool against your skin as you and Azriel made your way through the sleeping streets of Velaris. The warmth of your shared moments still lingered between you, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort with Azriel by your side. But as the shop came into view, the weight of the mysterious order returned, pulling you both back into the reality of the situation.

Once inside the shop, you led Azriel to the back room where you had left the letter. The forge was dark and quiet now, the earlier warmth replaced by the cool stillness of the night. You retrieved the letter from where you had tucked it away and handed it to Azriel, watching as his eyes scanned the elegant script.

His brow furrowed as he examined the seal, the strange symbol embossed in the wax catching his attention. He turned it over in his hands, studying it carefully before shaking his head. “This symbol doesn’t ring any bells. It’s not something I’ve come across before, and I’ve seen a lot of seals and crests in my time.”

You nodded, already suspecting that the symbol was something unusual. “It didn’t look familiar to me either, which is why it caught my attention in the first place.”

Azriel’s gaze lifted to meet yours, his eyes serious. “Tell me about the magic they’re asking for in the sword. What’s its purpose?”

You sighed, glancing down at the letter as you considered how to explain it. “I’m no expert, but I’ve seen these types of runes before. They’re used in very specific, very dark enchantments. The runes they’re asking for are meant to create a blade that catches souls.”

Azriel’s expression shifted to one of confusion and concern. “Catches souls? What do you mean?”

You took a deep breath, knowing how heavy the truth would be. “When you kill someone with a blade like this, their soul doesn’t pass on. It gets trapped within the sword, bound to it. The sword becomes a vessel for the souls of its victims, storing them indefinitely.”

Azriel’s face darkened at your words, his brows knitting together in a deep frown. “That’s… twisted. Why would anyone want a weapon like that?”

You shook your head, unable to find a logical answer. “I don’t know. But whoever commissioned this sword must have a very specific, very disturbing purpose in mind.”

Azriel set the letter down on the table, his jaw tight with tension. “This sounds more dangerous than anything. You shouldn’t go through with it, Y/N. There’s too much at stake here, and something about this whole situation feels… wrong.”

You met his gaze, seeing the worry and protectiveness in his eyes. The same unease that had been gnawing at you since the order came in now felt magnified by his concern. “I agree. I’ve been thinking the same thing. It’s not worth the risk, and I don’t want to get involved in whatever this is.”

Azriel’s expression softened slightly, relief evident in his eyes. “I’m glad you see it that way. It’s better to be safe, especially with something this dark.”

You nodded, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders now that the decision was made. “I’ll send word tomorrow that I’m refusing the order. If they push back, I’ll stand my ground.”

Azriel stepped closer, his hand gently brushing against your arm in a comforting gesture. “You don’t have to handle this alone, Y/N. If they give you any trouble, I’ll be here to help.”

His touch was warm and reassuring, and you felt your heart skip a beat at the closeness between you. “Thank you, Azriel. That means a lot to me.”

He offered you a small, comforting smile, the tension between you easing as the conversation shifted away from the danger and back to the quiet intimacy of the night. “I should probably let you get some rest,” he said softly, though there was a hint of reluctance in his voice.

You nodded, though part of you wanted to ask him to stay just a little longer. “Yeah, it’s been a long day.”

As Azriel turned to leave, the quiet of the night settling around you, you felt a sudden reluctance to let him go. You reached out, gently catching his hand before he could step away completely.

“Azriel,” you began softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “About the letter… would you mind taking it with you? Maybe you could look into that seal, see if your network can find anything.”

He paused, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of surprise before they softened into a gentle smile. “I was actually going to ask if I could take it. I’ll have my spies look into it and see if we can find out more. Whatever this is, it’s better to be cautious.”

You nodded, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. “Thank you. I’d feel better knowing it’s in your hands.”

Azriel’s hand tightened slightly around yours, a quiet reassurance in his touch. The moment lingered between you, the air thick with unspoken words and the quiet understanding that had grown between you throughout the night.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you took a small step closer, your free hand coming up to rest against his chest. You felt the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, and when you looked up at him, you found his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

Without thinking, you leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. It was a gentle kiss, filled with the promise of something more, something that was just beginning to blossom between you. Azriel responded immediately, his hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, holding you close as he deepened the kiss just enough to leave you both slightly breathless.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested against each other, the world outside the shop forgotten in that quiet, intimate moment.

“I’ll be careful,” you whispered, your voice carrying the weight of the promise you were making, not just to him, but to yourself.

Azriel smiled softly, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “I know you will. And I’ll be here, whatever happens next.”

You nodded, feeling the warmth of his words settle deep within you. With a final, tender kiss to your forehead, Azriel stepped back, his hand lingering on yours for just a moment longer before he let go.

“I’ll be in touch,” he said softly, his voice carrying a promise of its own.

You watched as he turned and stepped out into the night, the door closing softly behind him. For a moment, you stood there, the warmth of the kiss still tingling on your lips, the weight of the letter now passed on to someone you trusted implicitly.

With a small, contented smile, you turned off the lights and headed upstairs to your apartment. As you climbed into bed, the events of the night replayed in your mind, the memory of Azriel’s kiss lingering as you drifted off to sleep, a sense of anticipation for what the future might hold.

—— 

The House of Wind was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth as Rhysand and Cassian lounged in the living room, their expressions a mix of curiosity and amusement. They had been waiting for a while, their usual banter having faded into a comfortable silence as they awaited Azriel's return.

Cassian leaned back in his chair, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You think he’s off doing something shady, or just being his usual brooding self?"

Rhysand chuckled, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Knowing Az, probably a bit of both. But he’s been acting different lately—less brooding, more... distracted."

Cassian raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with interest. "Distracted, huh? You think he’s got something—or someone—on his mind?"

Rhysand smirked, his violet eyes gleaming with mischief. "I wouldn’t be surprised. He’s been disappearing more often, hasn’t he?"

As if on cue, the front door creaked open, and Azriel stepped inside, his wings folding neatly behind him as he made his way into the room. His expression was calm, collected—perhaps a bit too calm, given the circumstances.

Cassian was the first to pounce, his grin widening as he eyed Azriel with suspicion. "Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence. Where’ve you been, Az?"

Azriel shrugged, his face betraying nothing as he replied, "Out."

Rhysand arched an eyebrow, clearly amused by Azriel’s attempt at evasion. "Out where? You don’t usually take this long on a simple errand."

Azriel’s lips twitched, but he kept his tone even. "Just taking care of something."

Cassian exchanged a glance with Rhysand, both of them clearly not buying Azriel’s nonchalant answers. "Uh-huh. And this ‘something’ wouldn’t happen to involve a certain blacksmith in Velaris, would it?"

Azriel shot Cassian a sidelong glance, his expression carefully neutral. "Why would you think that?"

Rhysand leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Oh, come on, Az. You can’t fool us. We’ve noticed you sneaking off more frequently—and it just so happens that you’re always heading in the direction of Y/N’s shop."

Azriel’s silence spoke volumes, and the corners of Cassian’s mouth lifted into a knowing grin. "So, did you kiss her?"

Azriel’s jaw clenched slightly, but he didn’t respond. His silence only served to fuel the fire, and Cassian’s grin turned into a full-on smirk.

"Oh, fuck," Cassian groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the chair. "The kid won the bet."

Rhysand looked at Cassian, his amusement evident. "What bet?"

Cassian let out a resigned sigh. "I made a bet with Alex. I said they wouldn’t kiss until the second date, but that little shit was convinced it would happen on the first."

Rhysand couldn’t contain his laughter, his shoulders shaking as he leaned back in his chair. "You made a bet with a ten-year-old, and you lost?"

Cassian groaned again, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, and now I owe him. Damn it, Az, couldn’t you have waited until the second date?"

Azriel finally allowed a small smile to tug at his lips, his gaze shifting between his two friends. "You shouldn’t have made the bet in the first place."

Cassian grumbled, but there was no real heat in it. "Yeah, yeah. Just wait until you have to deal with him gloating about it."

Rhysand leaned forward, his eyes still gleaming with humor. "So, you really kissed her, huh? How was it?"

Azriel’s smile softened, his thoughts drifting back to the quiet moment under the stars. "It was... perfect."

Rhysand leaned back, crossing his arms with a satisfied grin. "It’s about time, Az. You deserve something good in your life."

Cassian, still sulking over his lost bet, couldn’t help but chuckle. "Yeah, and next time, maybe wait a little longer so I don’t end up in debt to a kid."

Azriel shook his head, a rare chuckle escaping him. "I’ll keep that in mind."

The three of them settled into a comfortable silence, the fire crackling softly in the background. Despite the teasing, there was an unspoken understanding between them—a bond that went beyond words, forged in battle and strengthened by years of friendship.

As the night wore on, the conversation shifted to other topics, the easy camaraderie between the three warriors filling the room. But in the back of his mind, Azriel couldn’t help but replay the evening’s events, a soft smile lingering on his lips as he thought of you.

—— 

The days flowed smoothly after that fateful night, a comfortable rhythm settling over your life in Velaris. The shop bustled with activity as more customers came by, drawn by your reputation and the quality of your work. Alex was his usual lively self, helping out with the customers and occasionally throwing in a cheeky comment or two that never failed to make you laugh.

Azriel became a frequent visitor at the shop, his presence now a regular part of your routine. He would stop by during the quieter moments of the day, sometimes bringing you lunch, other times simply staying for a chat as you worked. There was an ease between you now, a quiet understanding that grew with each passing day.

One afternoon, as you were finishing up the final touches on a sword, the door to the shop swung open, and you looked up to see Cassian strolling in with his usual swagger. He greeted you with a wide grin, but it was the sight of him handing Alex a small pouch full of gold coins that really caught your attention.

Alex, ever the charmer, opened the pouch and gave a low whistle. "Pleasure doing business with you, General," he said with a mock bow, his grin as wide as ever.

You raised an eyebrow, wiping your hands on a cloth as you approached them. "What’s this about, then?"

Cassian looked caught for a moment, but then he let out a hearty laugh. "Just paying off a little debt, Y/N. Seems your apprentice here had more faith in Azriel’s romantic abilities than I did."

You couldn’t help but laugh, your eyes narrowing playfully as you glanced between the two of them. "So, this is about that bet, huh? Should’ve known Alex would win."

Alex puffed out his chest with pride. "I told you, Nana, always trust my instincts. Now, if only every bet was this profitable."

Cassian rolled his eyes, though his grin never wavered. "Careful, kid. Too much confidence and you might find yourself in over your head."

Alex just shrugged, tucking the pouch away. "I’ll take my chances."

You shook your head at their banter, but there was a warmth in your chest as you watched the two of them. Cassian’s visits were always a bit of chaotic fun, and it was clear he had a soft spot for Alex, despite all the teasing.

As the week continued, you couldn’t help but notice how Azriel made a point to keep you updated on his progress with the letter and the mysterious order. He’d stop by, his expression serious as he shared whatever new information he had uncovered.

“It’s been difficult to trace the seal,” Azriel mentioned one evening as you were closing up the shop. He leaned against the counter, his brows furrowed in thought. “It doesn’t match any known factions or groups that we’ve encountered before. Whoever they are, they’re good at staying hidden.”

You nodded, wiping down the counter as you listened. “I expected as much. This whole thing felt off from the start.”

Azriel looked at you, his gaze softening slightly. “I’m glad you decided to decline the order. It’s too dangerous to get involved with something like this.”

You gave him a small smile, grateful for his concern. “I sent back a letter a few days ago, stating that I couldn’t fulfill the request in such a short time and with the materials they were asking for. I haven’t heard back since.”

Azriel nodded, looking somewhat relieved. “Good. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

The exchange was typical of the conversations you’d been having lately—serious, focused on the task at hand, but always with an underlying current of warmth. It was clear that Azriel was genuinely invested in your safety, and that knowledge brought a sense of comfort you hadn’t realized you’d been missing.

As the week drew to a close, you found yourself reflecting on how much had changed in such a short amount of time. The shop was thriving, your bond with Alex was stronger than ever, and Azriel… well, Azriel had become an important part of your life, whether you had intended for that to happen or not.

The night had fallen deep and quiet over Velaris by the time you arrived at the Town House, the moon hanging high in the sky, casting a silver light over the city. The streets were mostly empty, save for the occasional guard or late-night traveler making their way home. The air was cool, with a faint breeze that stirred the leaves and whispered through the alleyways, carrying with it the promise of something darker on the horizon.

You had left Alex back at your apartment, assuring him that you wouldn’t be long. It was late, but Rhysand had requested a meeting, and you knew it was important. The weight of the past week hung heavy on your mind, and though you had declined the mysterious order, the unease still lingered.

As you entered the Town House, you were greeted by the familiar warmth of the place, but tonight, it felt different—more serious, more urgent. The usual lighthearted banter that often filled the rooms was absent, replaced by a quiet intensity that set you on edge.

Rhysand was already seated in the main sitting room when you arrived, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as he watched you enter. Cassian and Mor were there as well, Cassian leaning casually against the mantel, while Mor sat elegantly on the couch, her gaze flicking to you with a small, welcoming smile. Azriel was the last to arrive, his entrance almost silent, but you felt the shift in the air as he took his place near the shadows, ever watchful.

"Thank you for coming, Y/N," Rhysand said, his voice smooth and calm, but with an undercurrent of seriousness that matched the atmosphere. "I appreciate you making time, especially so late."

You offered a small nod, taking a seat across from him. "Of course, Rhys. What’s this about?"

Rhysand exchanged a glance with Cassian and Mor before turning his attention back to you. "As you know, the Night Court’s relationships with the other courts—both on the continent and beyond—are delicate. We’ve worked hard to maintain peace and foster alliances, but there are always those who would see us weakened or divided."

You nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "You’ve done well in keeping the balance, but I imagine that’s not easy."

"It isn’t," Rhysand admitted, his gaze steady. "And lately, we’ve had reason to believe that certain factions within the courts are growing restless. There’s talk of old alliances crumbling and new ones being forged, some of which could threaten the stability we’ve worked so hard to maintain."

Mor leaned forward slightly, her expression serious. "We need to be proactive. The other courts respect you, Y/N. You’ve built relationships with many of the High Lords, and that makes you uniquely positioned to help us."

Cassian chimed in, his tone less playful than usual. "We’re not asking you to do anything dangerous. We just need your insight—your understanding of the dynamics at play. If there’s a way to strengthen our alliances or to identify potential threats before they become real problems, we need to know."

You felt the weight of their request settle over you, and you took a moment to consider it. The Night Court had always been careful in its dealings with the other courts, but you knew that the balance was fragile, easily disrupted by the ambitions of others.

Azriel’s voice cut through the silence, calm and measured. "You’ve traveled to almost every court, Y/N. You know the High Lords, their strengths and weaknesses, better than most. We could use that knowledge."

You met Azriel’s gaze, seeing the trust and respect in his eyes. It was clear that this was more than just a request for help—it was an acknowledgment of your importance to the Night Court, and perhaps even something more.

"What exactly are you asking me to do?" you asked, your tone thoughtful.

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his expression contemplative. "For now, we need your perspective. If you think there are ways we can improve our relationships with the other courts—especially those on the continent—I want to hear them. Beyond that, if you feel comfortable reaching out to some of your contacts, it could help us gauge where we stand."

You nodded slowly, the gravity of the situation settling over you. "I can do that. But you should know that while I’ve built relationships, not all of them are as strong as they could be. Some of the High Lords are… complicated."

Cassian let out a soft huff of amusement. "Aren’t they all?"

Mor’s gaze softened slightly as she looked at you. "We don’t expect miracles, Y/N. Just your honest opinion. If there are dangers we need to be aware of, or opportunities we can seize, we trust you to tell us."

You appreciated the trust they were placing in you, but you also felt the weight of the responsibility. The politics of Prythian were as dangerous as any battlefield, and one wrong move could have devastating consequences.

"I’ll do what I can," you said finally, your voice steady. "I’ll think on it, and I’ll reach out to those I can trust. But we need to be careful. There are forces at play that we may not fully understand."

Rhysand nodded, his expression grave. "We’re aware. And that’s why we’re counting on you. Your insight could make all the difference."

The room fell into a contemplative silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts. It was clear that this was more than just a simple request—it was a turning point, one that could shape the future of the Night Court and Prythian as a whole.

Azriel broke the silence, his voice low. "We’ll take it one step at a time. No need to rush into anything."

You nodded, feeling the tension in your chest ease slightly at his words. "Agreed. Let’s approach this carefully."

Cassian pushed off the mantel, his usual humor returning as he clapped his hands together. "Alright, enough of the heavy talk for one night. I think we’ve all had enough of politics for the evening."

Mor smiled, the tension in the room easing as she relaxed back into her seat. "I couldn’t agree more."

Rhysand stood, signaling the end of the meeting. "Thank you, Y/N. We’ll talk more in the coming days. But for now, get some rest."

You rose from your seat, offering a small smile in return. "I will. Thank you."

As you made your way to the door, Azriel fell into step beside you, his presence a comforting shadow at your side. The night was still and quiet as you stepped out into the cool air, the weight of the meeting still lingering in your mind.

"Walk you home?" Azriel offered, his voice soft.

You nodded, grateful for the company. "I’d like that."

As you and Azriel walked through the quiet streets of Velaris, the conversation turned naturally to the High Lords you had met over the years. The night air was cool, and the stars above cast a soft, silvery glow on the cobblestone streets.

“You know,” you began, your voice thoughtful, “there are a few High Lords I’ve always found… intriguing. Helion, for one. He’s a shrewd negotiator, but he respects strength. We’ve always had a decent rapport.”

Azriel nodded, listening intently as you spoke. “Helion’s a good ally, though his court’s penchant for secrets rivals our own. And what about Thesan? The Dawn Court tends to stay neutral, but they hold a lot of influence.”

You smiled, recalling your interactions with the calm and measured High Lord of the Dawn Court. “Thesan’s always been respectful. He’s more interested in knowledge than power, but that makes him valuable in a different way.”

Azriel squeezed your hand gently as you continued to walk, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles against your skin. His eyes were thoughtful as he considered your words. “These connections could be vital in the coming days. Knowing who we can count on—and who might be swayed—will make all the difference.”

You were about to respond, to delve deeper into your thoughts on the other High Lords, when you suddenly noticed that Azriel had stopped walking. He turned to face you, his gaze intense as he looked into your eyes.

“Azriel, is everything okay?” you asked, your voice soft with concern.

For a moment, he said nothing, simply studying you with that same unwavering gaze. Then, without warning, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and filled with a restrained longing. The world seemed to pause around you, the only sound the quiet hum of the night as Azriel’s hand cupped your cheek, pulling you closer.

When he finally pulled away, his breath warm against your lips, he whispered, “I’ve wanted to do that all night.”

A blush rose to your cheeks, and you couldn’t help but smile, even as you playfully smacked his arm. “You should’ve done it sooner, then.”

He chuckled softly, his hand lingering on your waist as the two of you resumed your walk. The weight of the meeting was still there, but the kiss had lightened the air between you, bringing a sense of closeness that made the night feel a little less daunting.

As you approached your apartment, you hesitated for a moment before turning to Azriel. “Would you like to come in for a cup of tea? It’s late, but…”

Azriel smiled, his eyes softening. “I’d like that.”

But just as you reached for the door, a sharp, metallic scent hit your senses—blood. The air was thick with it, the smell so strong it made your stomach churn. Azriel tensed beside you, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his blade as his shadows flared around him.

“Something’s wrong,” you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest. Without waiting for a response, you shoved the door open and rushed inside, fear gripping your heart.

The scene that greeted you was one of horror. Stellan, your loyal dire wolf, lay motionless on the floor, his white fur stained red with blood. His lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling, and a strangled cry escaped your throat as you dropped to your knees beside him, your hands trembling as you reached out to touch his still-warm body.

“No… no, no, no…” The words came out in a desperate whisper, your mind refusing to accept what your eyes were seeing.

Azriel was beside you in an instant, his expression dark as he scanned the room. But there was no sign of Alex—no sign of the boy who had become like family to you.

“Alex!” you called out, your voice cracking with panic. But there was no answer, only the oppressive silence of the room, broken by the sound of your own ragged breathing.

It was then that you noticed the pendant, a gift from the Winter Court, lying on the floor beside a pool of blood. Your heart clenched painfully as you picked it up, your hands shaking. The blood that covered it was still fresh, a grim reminder of what had been taken from you.

And next to the pendant, partially obscured by Stellan’s body, was a letter. The same seal, the same elegant script—the same cursed symbol that had marked the letter you had declined to fulfil.

Azriel’s hand was on your shoulder, grounding you as you struggled to process what had happened. His voice was low, filled with a simmering fury that matched your own. “They’ve taken him.”

You nodded, your eyes burning with unshed tears as you clutched the pendant tightly in your hand. “We have to find him, Azriel. We have to get him back.”

Azriel’s gaze hardened, his shadows swirling around him like a dark storm. “We will. I promise you, Y/N. We’ll make them pay for this.”

The determination in his voice was the only thing that kept you from breaking down completely. With a final, trembling breath, you stood, your eyes locking with Azriel’s. “Let’s go.”

And with that, the two of you set out into the night, driven by a single, unrelenting purpose—to find Alex and to bring him home, no matter the cost.

---

please don't kill me for the end of the chapter <3

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[thewinter-eden]

Blood Sugar Virus (44)

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Genre: Horror, zombies, strangers to lovers, angst, suspense, slow burn Pairing: Kang Yeosang x female!reader Warnings: based on the Wanteez Zombie episode, it's almost over

Story Summary: You (stage name Sugar) are the co-captain of a horror acting group. You and your guys are the ones the companies hire when they want to stage a zombie, ghost, or any vaguely horrific and dystopian episode. So when you get hired by Ateez to develop a zombie program, it's just another routine that you've done a million times. Everything's going exactly according to script--until suddenly it isn't, and it starts getting a little too real.

🏆 Esteemed Moot: @ramadiiiisme

⭐️ Reader Spotlight: @mrsminseochoi

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The schoolyard is utter chaos. The enlisted men, barely trained for anything beyond fire watch and marching, have fallen to the few parasites that escaped the burning building. In the mere moments since they were first attacked, the transformation from human to monster has already started.

What was once the disorganized rush of soldiers doing their best to follow orders and manage the uncontrollable blaze of the high school is now a staggering, snarling hoard of hijacked human vehicles.

The screams have stopped.

The radios are silent.

“What the hell is happening out there?” One of the soldiers behind your group asks. “What is that? It sounds like wild animals out there.”

“Is that the guys?” Another questions, voice edged with fear “Why do they sound like that?”

Ignoring the confusion of the two soldiers who had laid hands on San and Yunho, you lower yourself into the dirt between Seonghwa and Yeosang and try to take the weight off your throbbing hip.

“How have they turned already?” You hear yourself asking, glancing to where you left Jimin. If the transformation had been so quick back in the school, he would have been long gone.

Even Mingi would have turned in such a short amount of time.

“When we were still playing the game, back in one of the classrooms, San and I gave two of them the cure. Jungkook and Jennie, I think?” Yunho pauses as San confirms his memory, and then continues. “They changed in less than five minutes. It was so fast—”

“Jungkook had already been given the specimens,” you remind him. “The documents from the control room said he was already part of the parasite group.”

“But Jennie wasn’t.” Yunho says. “Jennie was supposed to be in the anti-parasitic group. She only turned because of the specimens they’d put in the cure bottles. And she turned before Jungkook did.”

You’re not a scientist. You’re not an expert on any of this, not even in the slightest, but the only thing you can think is that delivering the eggs so close to the center of their bodies is what allowed the parasites to take control of the human nervous system so quickly.

Jimin had been stung in the leg.

So had Mingi, and Rosé.

The parasites had had to eat their way up the body to be able to take control.

It’s the only thing you can think of.

And from the way you’d seen the wasps jump, leaping so high into the air to attack you and the others, you can only assume that they came flying at the soldiers and stung them at higher points than their legs.

Maybe they’d latched onto their stomachs. Maybe their chests. Maybe their throats or faces.

The distance between the school they’d escaped from and the soldiers they’d been attacking was so great it might have given them the space to take bigger leaps, while the hallways and classrooms you’d been attacked in had been narrow and cramped.

If they’d leapt at you like that, you would have been utterly overtaken. Your flimsy paper armor couldn’t have saved you.

Either way, any explanation of the events is irrelevant. It doesn’t have to make sense or be answered—they’ve already turned.

Whether you understand how or not, it’s too late for them.

“This is insane.” Hongjoong whispers. “I mean, we couldn’t kill all of them on 3, but we thought trapping them would be enough—and when you lit the fire we thought they’d all die. Shouldn’t they all have died?”

“So much for your flame thrower idea.” Yeosang remarks to you.

So much for your flame thrower idea.

“Holy shit.” Hajoon says softly, still watching the scene through the scope of his rifle. “I thought you were fucking with us. You actually meant zombies.”

Somebody in your group snorts derisively. “Yeah, because we thought it was the perfect time to pull a prank on a couple of Black Berets.” Wooyoung.

“Actual zombies?” One of the soldiers repeats. “They’re actual zombies? There’s no way. That’s not real.”

“Why don’t you go out there and tell them that?” Hongjoong snaps.

“All units report, what’s happening out there?” Somebody asks over the radio. “All units, report.”

No one answers.

Apart from the Black Berets and the men who had been forcibly diverted from pursuing you, there’s no one left to answer.

There are only the hungry growls of the zombies in the yard.

“Well, fuck, now they’re armed.” Mingi mutters.

“Pretty sure they don’t know how to use guns anymore.” Yunho responds flatly.

“Rose Team, report.”

None of the men now guarding you reach for their radios.

From their position just inside the tree line, the enlisted soldiers are talking, horrified by the scene before them, the entire line humming with uneasy chatter, but they don’t respond to the officers’ orders.

Woosung and Dojoon keep them quiet as they watch. The men are rigid with fear, fighting visible impulses to run away from what’s happening, but the Black Berets manage to keep them in line with quiet reprimands, maintaining a sense of calm and control that slowly seeps into the inexperienced soldiers.

“What are they like?” Hajoon asks. “What do we know?”

He’s talking to your group, the people who have been in the middle of the chaos, looking for information that you know better than anyone.

Your instincts to jump in and take control of the situation have dampened considerably over the course of the evening, but part of you still feels called to rise to duty.

Pushing yourself to your knees, you creep closer to the operator. “They don’t see very well unless you’re moving.” You say. “But they pick up on sounds. If things are quiet for long enough, they’ll go into a kind of dormant state. If there’s nothing to chase, they just wander blindly.”

Someone moves next to you, and a hand lands warmly on your back. You know it’s Yeosang. He scoots himself to sit next to you, like if he’s not there to stop you, you’ll grab a gun and join their ranks.

His scent is unmistakably familiar to you now, body heat and the faint traces of his laundry detergent, subtle hints of his cologne still present through the perspiration that’s melted most of it away.

“And if they’re chasing you? What’s the drive?”

Your hand finds Yeosang’s arm, sliding up to rest reassuringly on his shoulder. You’re not going anywhere. You’re not jumping into the fight with this army who can either take care of themselves or pay for the crime of forcing you into this situation in the first place.

Lifting your voice only just enough to be heard, you think your way through the experiences you’ve suffered tonight. “To eat. The men are hosts to juvenile parasites now. They take control of you to make you provide them with food until they’re grown enough to eat through the hosts and look for environments in which to lay their own eggs. The cycle repeats. If you kill the host, the parasite escapes to find another. You have to kill the wasps.”

Hajoon shakes his head in disbelief. “What unholy fuckery…”

You’ve never agreed with any sentiment more.

Out in the clearing, the zombies are moving, spurred into action by the roaring of the fire, but with no prey to chase, they only charge around the yard, shoving into each other, tumbling over bodies, shrieking wildly. Some of them charge towards the flames, only to shirk back violently at the heat and redirect the stampede back the way they had come.

Only a relatively small number of them had turned, the rest having attacked and overtaken the rest of the soldiers who stood no chance against their own friends being overwhelmed with ravenous violence.

“I’m seeing insects,” Dojoon’s voice comes over Hajoon’s radio.

You startle at the sound, falling back into the dirt against Yeosang. He stabilizes you, pulling you to his side before you can fall into the leaves.

“What is he doing?” Hongjoong hisses frantically. “The officers will hear!”

“We’ve switched to an encrypted channel.” Hajoon reassures him, and you realize the voice hadn’t come through the radios that the enlisted soldiers carry. “It’s just us.”

“They’re headed this way—fleeing the fire.”

“I count twelve,” Woosung’s voice responds. “Are we shooting these fuckers, or what?”

Mind racing through the possibilities brought on by opening fire on the scrambling insects, you hear your heart pounding frantically in your ears. “No,” you whisper. “They’ll draw them right to us.”

Hajoon lifts his radio to his mouth. “The gunfire will draw the zombies. If we open fire on the wasps, we’ll be shooting men next.”

“There are fifty soldiers between us and them.” Yeosang murmurs to you reassuringly. “We’ll be okay.”

“The same soldiers who shot Namjoon? Against their orders?”

He doesn’t have an answer for you.

“Is there any coming back for these guys?” Woosung asks.

Hajoon turns to you.

“They’re being eaten alive.” You tell him carefully. You remember Jin, attacking you with no traces of the man he used to be. And Taehyung, attacking Wooyoung within moments of being turned. And Rosé turning on Yeosang in the mere moments between you leaving the room and coming back to find her gone. “By now there’s nothing left of them.”

He takes your word for it. “No. They’re gone.”

“We know that for sure?”

You don’t know anything for sure. You don’t know anything except that by the time the parasites come out of them, the hosts are nothing but empty husks. “Nothing we did brought anybody back at this point.” That’s all you know. “And nothing in the documentation we found suggested that anybody out there knew how to save them either.”

“Who would do this?” The soldier behind you asks. “Who would set up an operation like this?”

“The same people who brought you out here and told you not to defend yourselves, even though they knew the danger.” You return sharply. “Your officers don’t give a shit about you or any of the rest of us.”

“As sure as we can be.” Hajoon says into his radio. He doesn’t pay any attention to the malice stirring behind him, certain enough that his presence will keep any sort of fight from breaking out.

The soldiers are scared.

They’ve abandoned the orders of their commanding officers.

They’re standing with you, albeit with some resentment, instead of dragging you to the commanders.

“Then we’re shooting these fuckers.” Woosung says. “Everybody hold fire. Dojoon and I will handle this.”

You sink into Yeosang’s hold, forcing yourself to focus on the heat of him against you, the solid weight of him keeping you close. It’s about to be an explosion of gunfire and rampaging zombies, and all you can do is sit in the dirt and hope you don’t end up like the ones who fell.

Praying you don’t end up like Namjoon.

Praying you’re not about to witness another bloodbath.

“This is hell.” Jongho mutters. “I’m in hell.”

“God, my leg.” Mingi grumbles. “It’s twisted, can someone help me move it?”

“I got you.” Jimin says softly, and you see shadows in the dark as he reaches over to pull at Mingi’s leg by the knee. “Is that better?”

“Yeah.” Mingi grunts. “God, can we find a shower before we flee the country?”

Wooyoung snickers. “There were showers in the school. We thought about it, didn’t we, Sugar?”

“Not the time, Woo.” Hongjoong says with a sigh.

“You thought about what?” Yeosang’s arm grips your waist. “In the men’s showers? That locker room in the gym?”

“Relax, hyung, she said no.” Wooyoung says lightly. “She thought it would be unfair, or something.”

“Woo, shut up.” You grumble under your breath. “I don’t think you want to talk about what happened in the locker room.”

Wooyoung goes silent, but Yeosang shifts under you. “Wait, what—”

A gunshot cuts him off, and then another.

You jump, slamming back against the wall of his chest. “Jesus.”

When the shots start popping through the air, you hear the zombies come alive with frenzied vigor. Woosung and Dojoon are firing with quick precision, one sharp pull after another.

The radios of the four enlisted men around you burst with static. “Who’s firing? Who’s out there?”

“All units, report to control.”

“Hold your fire, I repeat, hold your fire.”

“Hold your fire.” San repeats with a huff. “They know their men are dying and they still care about noise.”

The operators don’t stop, shooting straight through the angered orders of the officers, each round drawing the zombies closer and closer to the woods.

“Hold your fire!”

“Stop shooting!”

“Goddammit, lower your weapons!”

The soldiers around you grow more and more uneasy. “We are in so much shit.”

“That’s all of them,” Dojoon’s voice says. “I don’t see any more.”

“All units, prepare to fire on the damn zombies.” Woosung says. “Keep your heads, do not waste ammunition. If you shoot any of us or yourselves, I’ll kill you myself.”

“These guys are crazy.” You hear Yunho whisper. “Who are these people?”

But before they can begin firing on the rapidly approaching hoard, you hear doors slamming. It sounds like it’s coming from the parking lot, and pounding footsteps can be heard slamming towards the schoolyard.

“Hold up, there’s movement to the north.” Woosung says suddenly. “Fuck, there’s more Black Berets out there. What team is that?”

“They’re about to open fire on the zombies.” Dojoon says. “We’re going to be caught in the crossfire. Everybody move back. Get your asses up! Move back!”

The soldiers in the tree line jump to obey, scrambling back into the forest towards you. They’re a mad rush of movement, like mice bolting from danger.

“Hold the line!” Woosung snaps. “Do not break formation. Move back slowly.” He’s practically wrangling cats, trying to keep control of the scattering group of eighteen year olds as they clamber and trip over roots and branches in a panic.

Gunfire starts like an explosion.

“It’s okay.” Yeosang whispers, and you realize you’re scrambling backwards at the onslaught, frantically responding to the anxious movements of the troops. “It’s alright, we’re okay.” He’s watching Hajoon, waiting for an order to move, and until it comes he’s tugging you into his arms. “It’s okay, they’ve got us.”

“They’ve got us?” Sam hisses. “They don’t know us. They don’t care about us.”

“But they’ll protect themselves.” Yeosang returns sharply. “And if they protect themselves, then we’re safe back here. Calm down. We’ll be okay.”

From where you sit, the sudden rush of gunfire sounds like an entire army, and the hoard careens away from the forest to charge towards the new group of special forces operators.

“They’re turning away!” The soldiers behind you say. “They’re drawing them away.”

“Hell yeah, Black Berets!”

“Shit, we’re saved. They’ve got them.”

You’re not so sure, especially based on the way Hajoon edges back towards your group.

“Fuck, they’re fast.” Woosung mutters. “They’re not going down.”

“I see headshots taking them out.” Dojoon responds. “But they’re moving too fast. Shit, those guys are about to be overtaken.”

Whoever the new group of operators out there are, they’re walking into the hoard, trying to shoot them down instead of firing from a position of cover. They’re charging straight into a hoard of rampaging zombies as though they don’t know the power of their enemy.

Your mind keeps flashing back to the Fever Times in the hallway, imagining trying to take them head on, and your heart sinks. “No, they’re strong,” you say out loud. “Stronger than people, they’re like animals.”

“Shit.” Hajoon mutters.

The shots keep exploding, cracking like fireworks through the charging stampede, but they don’t stop them all in time.

You can see zombies falling, but you see them slamming into the operators, too.

“Dammit, they’re taking them out.” Dojoon says. “Do we cover them?”

“Not without giving up our position.” Woosung returns. “I’m not giving ourselves up until we know what the plan for the civilians is.”

This surprises you. You’d expected them to jump in and provide cover fire, to assume a role of overwatch and defend their troops, but they hold back.

“They’re not going to help?” One of the soldiers guarding you asks. “Those are our guys out there—they can’t just let them die!”

“Those guys came out of the mobile command.” Hajoon returns sharply. “That means they were in there with the officers, fully aware of all the shit going down tonight. The zombies, the parasites, trapping civilians inside a building full of those things —if we give up our position to them, they’ll make all of us disappear. Look at what’s happening out there. You think they’re going to let the public know about this? You think they’re going to let people know this was a deliberate operation on domestic soil? If you want to live, shut up.”

The soldiers fall silent.

All you can hear is the cracking of bullets, the shouts of the operators out there finding themselves woefully unprepared for their enemy.

“It’s not gonna work.” You breathe. “They’re being attacked.” You can’t see much from your vantage point, but you can hear them. They’re shouting, screaming, the trained control of their hollered orders turning into cries of pain.

“Think about something else.” Yeosang turns you away from the yard. “We can’t do anything. We can’t run. We can’t fight. Just think about something else.” His hands drag through you hair. “You’re not breathing.”

You suck in a ragged breath. “We’re gonna die out here.”

“No.” His brow falls against yours. “No, we’re not. We’re going to let them deal with this, and we’re going to walk away. Okay?”

“Think about the first thing you’re going to do when this is over.” Seonghwa crowds in from your other side. “We can all go out for food and drinks and laugh about this until it’s a drunken memory.”

You won’t be laughing. You won’t be thinking back on the family you lost and pretending it was all just another bad program.

“We’ll get steak and chicken,” Hongjoong whispers. “God, I’d kill for grilled meat right now. Just imagine—San will take one drink and pass right out. We’ll have to carry him home.”

“I am not that bad.” San says from somewhere behind you. “Jongho is the one who keeps filling my glass—”

“Yeah, for real, I don’t go drinking with Jongho anymore.” Mingi grumbles. “It’s like his sadistic pleasure to get us drunk.”

“It’s not my fault you guys are lightweights.” Jongho returns. “You’re just more fun when you’re drunk.”

“I resent that predatory remark.” San says. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

Yeosang’s voice lowers so only you can hear. “Maybe we’ll have to pick a different spot than Jeju. Maybe we’ll go to Paris. Or we can go to Egypt. How’s that for a first date? Have any of your other desperate clients taken you to Egypt or Rome for a first date?”

The laughter falls out of you in a puff of air. “You’re thinking about a first date right now?”

“Well, whatever hostel we end up in after this certainly isn’t going to be it. That’s not nearly romantic enough.” His hands run up and down your arms calmly. “What about Cape Town? Or Prague? Or we could go to Santorini and walk on the beaches.”

“Are you serious?” You snort. “We’re freezing to death in the dirt, about to be mauled by zombies, and now you want to delve into expatriate vacation planning?”

“I think Greece would be fun.” He says simply. “I’ve heard their coffee is amazing. Or we could go to Hawaii. Do you like diving?”

Jimin hears that, and laughs. “Sorry, bud, your girl doesn’t do the ocean. She watched Soul Surfer and the Titanic and swore off oceans forever.”

Yeosang laughs gently against you. “So no Vienna, then? How about rivers?”

You let yourself fall into the distraction he offers. “As long as we’re looking at the ocean and not swimming in it, I’m happy.”

“Then we’ll do what makes you happy.” His lips land on your cheek and your heart flutters. “We’re gonna have to swing by your place and grab Ponk, she’ll love Austria.”

You can’t believe the conversation you’re having right now, or the butterflies in your stomach that aren’t swayed at all by the war zone out there.

“Ugh, they’re disgusting.” Wooyoung grumbles. “Young love. Absolutely nauseating. Where’s my romantic city excursion?”

“I’ll take you to Rio.” Jimin offers. “How do you feel about the Copacabana?”

“Where Lola lost her mind? No thanks.”

“Alright, group trip to Barcelona then.”

“Now you’re talking.”

“Do you people ever shut up?” One of the soldiers grumbles.

“Do you ever not have a stick up your ass?” Wooyoung snaps back. “All in favor of Barcelona—”

“The hoard is thinning.” Woosung reports. “They’re taking headshots now.”

Hajoon takes a few steps forward, crouching low to see through the branches.

The inane discussion of world travel stops immediately, tense silence falling over your group.

“Zombies are down.” Woosung. “Zombies are down.”

“I’m not seeing any movement.” Dojoon.

When the gunfire stops, there are only two operators still standing. They’re in the middle of a pile of bodies, both zombies and fellow operators, picking through the mess to be sure they didn’t miss anyone.

“Hell yeah, Black Berets.” One of the soldiers cheers again.

“Damn, that’s what I’m gonna be. Fuck infantry.”

After a few minutes, the operators in the yard stop and report through their radios, transmissions that don’t come through the channels that the nearby soldiers are on.

“They’re talking to command.” Woosung says. “We don’t have that channel. Everybody hold steady.”

More doors slam.

“Here come the officers.”

You draw closer to Yeosang, muscles bunching to run, and feel his arms tighten around your waist.

In moments there’s a group of uniformed officers staring out over the desolation. You can see them through the trees, running their hands through their hair and staggering in obvious signs of recognizing that they’ve lost control of their operation.

Their entire platoon of soldiers is either missing or dead, the structure of their ‘controlled experiment’ gone up in literal flames.

“They’re panicking.” Dojoon says.

The officers are shouting, gesturing wildly, issuing orders to the surviving two men, directing them to begin piling up the bodies. Through the trees, you see the operators drop their rifles to hang on their slings and begin dragging fallen soldiers into a heap near the fire.

“They’re going to burn them.” Woosung’s voice utters in realization. “This whole goddamn shit show, and all they care about is covering up the evidence.”

“You think they’ll call in reinforcements?” Dojoon.

“Not likely. They’ve already failed whatever this was supposed to be. Their only hope is to clean up their mess and try not to bring any extra attention to this.” Woosung. “With the danger gone, they’re gonna get rid of the bodies and hope it’s enough.”

“They killed the zombies?” You ask, letting your voice travel to Hajoon. “They’re all dead?”

“All dead.” Hajoon reassures you. “They’re dead.”

Dread fills your gut. “Then the parasites will be coming next.”

< last chapter | masterlist | next chapter >

tag list : @mysterysold @threevracha @igotajuicyass @velvetmoonlght @ramadiiiisme @mrsminseochoi @nightshadeblooming @furfoxsake22 @marvolos @lunaryoongie @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @noukstmblr

[h2llish]

⁀➷ ˖ spooky, scary, probably

notes ─── happy halloween i guess. i was hit by a wave of inspiration and wrote this in like an hour.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR | VIL SCHOENHEIT ─ you want to really lean into the "spooky" of spooky season.

warnings ☆ fluff? (or perhaps crack? it's silly and short), read platonic or romantic, gender neutral, lowercase intended, reader may or may not be yuu

"hey, can you help me with something?"

leona would often times tell you to get lost, to leave him alone and let him sleep. but after peeking an eye open to look at you, that wasn't what came out of his mouth ─ "what are you wearing?"

"it's my costume." you answered simply, glancing down at the clothes that look like you took a pair of scissors and tore at it until it looked shredded and unwearable. (and that's exactly what you did, sort of; it was already old and worn, you just made it even more so with a few extra aggressive tears.)

leona sent you a questioning look, lips curled up in a mamner you knew meant he was judging you, but you weren't all that bothered. "what are you supposed to be?" ─ he didn't let you answer as he sat up and examined you from where you stood at his door, following up the question with another ─ "and what is on your face?"

you knew he was talking about the makeup made to look like gauges and blotches in your face to really sell your role in your costume. it was well done too, you had gotten help from someone you deemed an expert beforehand. it took a while before you made a decison on the look, but in the end, you were happy with the results.

you stared at leona for a moment, waiting to see if he'd ask anything more, and then you answered, "i'm like a zombie. and it's makeup. vil helped me. he's pretty good at it, actually."

leona stared at you, more bemused as he eyed your diy costume from head to toe, "you look ridiculous."

"i look great," you corrected him, as if that's really what he meant, "you think it'll scare people? i was hoping to spook the others, or at least some of them."

leona scoffed, but chose not to comment on your decision to scare your peers as he referred to the reason you came to see him, "what do you want?"

"oh, right," you held up a decently sized bottle of red, what looked like, paint. "i need you to help cover me im this fake blood."

"i take it back, you're ridiculous."

"rude. so yes or no?"

"fine. but not in here."

vil has learned that when you set your mind to things ─ ridiculous as they may be ─ you tried hard to fulfill them. sometimes you failed but, then there times you went through with them, completed your self-given mission.

he was used to hearing about these ideas you just had to go through with (your words). ─ like right now.

"so skeletons are scary right?"

vil glanced at you as you took a seat beside him on the bench, looking to be deep in thought. (and he had to stop himself from sighing.)

"what?" he asked, closing the script he was reading (one written by you for his film research club) with his thumb in between the pages.

"skeletons," you repeated, "they're common for halloween because they're scary, right?"

a rhetorical question, he realized ─ but he answered anyway. "yes. that's right."

you nodded thoughtfully and hummed, bringing a hand to your chin and going silent. vil prepared himself for anything you might say ─ and he knew it would likely be ridiculous, because that's what your ideas often were; ridiculous and lacking sense, but nonetheless, in a way, thought through.

"what about, if it was the muscles?"

"the," he paused, "the muscles?" ─ he asked, as if to be sure he heard you right.

"yeah," you nodded, your face showing just how serious you were in your words, and vil wondered just where you were going with this. "like skeletons are pretty scary. but what if, say, you suddenly just see fully intact human muscles coming towards you. wouldn't that freak you out?"

vil asks himself often where you come to think of such things, and yet, he still does not know. ─ "well, i suppose it would."

you nodded again, "i think i could make it work. with a little help from magic and makeup, i'm sure i could pull off a convincing costume."

of course that's where this was going ─ you were going to dress up as the muscles in the human body, just like one would when dressing up as a skeleton.

"you think you could help me?"

vil sighed, "alright."

─ it's never a dull moment with you, he thinks.

do not repost, translate, copy, or run my writing through ai.

[naxalbari1967]

Stop Falling for Israeli Lies. Every Damn Time.

Let’s just call it like it is. If it’s coming out of Israel, and it sounds like some crazy horror movie, you should assume it's fake. Not question it. Not dig deeper. Just assume it’s fake. Straight up. Because they lie. They lie like it's their job.

You hear someone say they “saw” the worst thing ever. Babies cut up. Women violated. Kids burnt alive. All of it somehow witnessed by one lone survivor who just happens to speak perfect English and cries on cue for Western cameras. Yeah. Sure. Totally believable. And somehow there’s never any footage. Never a photo. Never a body. Just vibes.

And then right on cue, the Zionist think tanks roll in. They wheel out some “expert” with a title and a suit and a fake report confirming all of it. All official. All very serious. And it's all garbage. It’s fiction dressed up as fact. They don’t investigate anything. They just rubber stamp propaganda.

The Israeli media? Even worse. They ran with the “40 beheaded babies” story like it was gospel. No photos. No autopsies. No confirmation. Just one anonymous soldier supposedly “saw it.” Then later the army says, actually, that never happened. But the damage is done. Headlines stay burned into people's brains. No one reads the retraction.

They do this every time. They flood the news cycle with lies and hope something sticks. And the worst part? It works. Western journalists, politicians, and people who should know better all fall for it. Again and again.

This isn’t new. This is the same script every empire uses. The US did it in Iraq. Nazis did it in Europe. Big lies. Told loud. Told often. Until the public is too overwhelmed to question any of it.

You think it’s a coincidence every atrocity claim comes with dramatic music, a single crying witness, and absolutely zero hard evidence? Come on. They do this because it works. They’re not telling the truth. They’re running a narrative.

Israel lies about everything. They lied about hospitals in Gaza being Hamas command centers. They lied about ambulances being used for weapons. They lied about UN schools. They lied about food trucks being cover for attacks. They lie and lie and lie, and then act shocked when people don’t believe them.

So yeah. If someone says “I saw 50 babies burned alive,” my answer is simple. Prove it. Or shut the hell up.

Because I’ve seen the real footage. The real horror. And it’s not coming from Israel’s side. It’s coming from the bombed out schools, the refugee camps, the mass graves in Gaza. It’s the Palestinian doctors crying as they try to treat toddlers with missing limbs using plastic wrap and flashlights. That’s what’s real.

Israel doesn’t want truth. They want you emotional. They want you so angry and heartbroken by their made up stories that you won’t notice the actual war crimes they’re committing every single day. And if you dare question it, they call you antisemitic. That’s their safety net. Their shield. Their magic word to shut people up.

But the world is catching on. Slowly, yeah, but it’s happening. More people are calling out the lies. More people are refusing to take this garbage at face value.

So repeat this like a mantra: If it’s coming from the Israeli state, its media, its army, its think tanks, its paid influencers, its so called survivors — don’t believe it. Not until there's hard evidence. Not until there’s something more than a crying face and a shaky story. They have lied too many times. About too many things. For too many years. And people are done playing along.

[rassicas]

Hello, I know you probably busy right now but when you get a chance do you mind translating this expert from this interview?https://www.famitsu.com/news/201807/22161115.html I think it's about whats happing in the after octo bonus track ――『オクトチューン』に収録された『Bonus Track』の会話イメージを、ざっくりと教えていただけますか？

山本　『オクト・エキスパンション』のエンディングから数日後、ヒメの家にあるスタジオでの楽曲制作の様子です。ボーカル収録中にイイダの携帯にアタリメから連絡が来て……という内容です。どんなやり取りをしているかは想像してみてください。

　サウンドだけでなく、ボイスにまで細やかなこだわり！　ぜひ『オクトチューン』を持っている方は、改めて上記のこだわりを意識しながら聴いてほしい。そして、3日連続『スプラトゥーン』インタビューの最後を締めるのは、ハイカライブのアレンジを手掛けた大山徹也氏。ハイカライブの楽曲はもちろんのこと、『スプラトゥーン』楽曲のアレンジへの意識、Wet Floor Shibuyaのお話も聞いちゃいます！　こちらもお楽しみに。また、以前のインタビューを読んでいない方は、下の記事もぜひ！

I've definitely seen people asking about what's going on in the bonus track of octotune, but I didn't remember there being much of an answer given...

--Could you give us a rough idea of what's happening in the Bonus Track included in Octotune? Yamamoto [Member of Splatoon 2's sound team]: It's set a few days after the end of Octo Expansion, and Off the Hook is working on a song at the studio in Pearl's house. In the midst of recording vocals, Marina gets a message on her phone from Cap'n Cuttlefish and...it's something like that. What kind of exchange they're having is something I'd like to leave to your imagination. (End of interview. the last paragraph is from the author of the article)

Yeah it's not too specific of an answer and much of that (aside from maybe the exact timing and location of the bonus track) could be inferred from listening to the track. I think it would be awesome if there was a script of what's being said exactly in the bonus track, but alas...

[eastwindmlk]

A @jilymicrofics for the prompt Retire, Jan 14th

Word count: 838

It was strange, after more than half a century, to be cleaning up her office for the final time. To carefully wrap her trusty tea set in yesterday’s Prophet, sift through the boxes of paperwork in search of what to archive, what to keep and what to finally bin. 

As she sorted through an assortment of old assignments and Christmas cards from a bygone age, Minerva finds herself reminiscing. Once familiar faces and voices curled from the depths of her mind, a fond smile on her face. 

The corners of her lips trembled like her aged hands when her fingers brushed along a script that gave her pause. Because even after all these years, all these hundreds of students, she could still tell whose penmanship this was. 

The large letters crammed onto the parchment, like he knew he was going to run out of space for his sweeping t’s and large loops. The words slanting upwards as if wanting to escape from the paper. 

She did not doubt that, at the time, that was precisely what he’d had on his mind, while stuck doing a detention assignment for her. It was supposed to be an essay, but in true James Potter fashion, he’d ignored the explicit instruction and instead composed a letter. 

Dearest Minerva, 

As we sit across from each other in your office, a pot of lapsang souchong between us, I am aware you are pretending to be cross with me. For the sake of posterity, I will pretend with you. Though we both know that they deserved every miserable second. 

In the future, however, I will strive for a more creative solution. Even if I think turning their belts into snakes was quite a nifty piece of transfiguration. I will let you be the judge of that. Being the expert and all that. 

Speaking of the future, I am supposed to write an essay about where I see myself next year. Which I could have answered effortlessly a fortnight ago. But things changed. Every paper is full of it now. And I refuse to sit idle just because I happened to have been born into a family that fits into their narrow view of our world. 

One year from now, I will be as restless as ever. Using the privilege that comes with my name to help those who cannot help themselves. However, unlike before, I will not humour myself with the delusion that this can be achieved by mere words. 

I will gladly put my wand with my conviction and face whatever is in store beyond the safety of these walls. Together with my friends, we will make a difference. 

My friends and I are talking about getting a place together, somewhere nice and lively. We were hoping to travel, see some of the world. Those plans are on hold, at least for now. Though none of us will say it aloud, we hope that the four of us will be around for it.

So, we spend evenings talking about this trip, imagining places to go and things to do in the hopes that the four of us will get to go.

Hopefully, I will be dating Lily Evans. (Please don’t tell her I said that.) I think she is finally coming round to me. She no longer glares in my direction, though I can still feel her eyes on me sometimes.

Maybe I am crazy, but I can tell it is her just from the way it feels. Her watching me is special somehow. Often I itch to turn to her, to catch her looking. To catch a glimpse of her smile or her fluster. Just the fraction of a moment where I can believe she might actually feel the same way. 

Or maybe not the same way. I would not wish this complete and utter agony on her. If she does come to fall for me, I hope she falls softer. I hope that I am not too blind to see and catch her before the rough landing. 

That is only if I will ever be lucky enough to be enough for her. To have grown into a person, she can depend on rather than the childish prick (I am so sorry, did not mean to curse.) I used to be. 

I am afraid I am running out of space. I could fill several more rolls of parchment (Which is not me asking for more) with hopes and wishes for the year ahead. Some more achievable (Pass my N.E.W.T. s) and some more hopeful (Snog Lily Evans. Again, please don’t tell her I wrote any of this.)

Your favourite student, 

James Potter 

Her fingers crumpled the paper where she gripped it tight, a lump rising in her throat. Her eyes scanned the content of the letter once more before pressing it briefly to her heart before placing it atop her pile of keepsakes. 

Minerva pushed herself to her feet, in dire need of a break and craving a cup of lapsang souchong. 

[meetmeinanotherworld]

Hello, I'm Faith and allow me to introduce myself...

For starters, I am not new to shifting. There is nothing wrong with being new (everyone has to start somewhere) but I don't want anyone to think I'm coming on here to look for attention or hop on a trend. I have been in the shifting community since July of 2020. So now I'm just going to do some bullet points about me and my shifting journey hehe

Why have I never posted before? Because I always vowed to myself that I wouldn't post until I successfully shifted. I didn't want the negativity of anti-shifters demotivating me and I also didn't want to just repeat the same talking points everyone else has shared. Even after having shifting experiences, I still didn't feel comfortable posting on TikTok because I didn't want friends or family or coworkers finding me. Also people on TikTok are so fucking mean.

Have I successfully shifted? Yes!! I have minishifted and have shifted to parallel realities. I plan on making a separate post going over each of my successful attempts :) but I have not shifted to any of my main DRs (YET)

Where am I planning on shifting to? I have lots of places I want to shift to. Some I have scripted for, others I have not yet. But I want to shift to Teen Wolf, Stranger Things, Challengers, West Side Story, multiple fame DRs, a few miscellaneous DRs (meaning not for any show or movie, just places I've thought of), and many others but those are just off the top of my head.

What got me into shifting? I have always been interested in shifting, even before I knew what it was. I remember being in middle school and honestly even elementary school and dreaming of being apart of my favorite fictional worlds. And not just inserting myself into the story, but literally imagining myself magically popping in from this reality or sometimes I'd imagine my favorite fictional characters coming into this reality. When I learned about Shifting, I was scrolling through TikTok and some lovely person was talking about shifting to their favorite anime. I immediately felt connected, like something clicked for me. I jumped straight into learning more and the rest was history. I was made for shifting.

About me? I am 22 years old and got into shifting when I was 17. I am a bisexual woman who uses she/her pronouns. I have experienced maladaptive daydreaming, lucid dreaming, and shifting and I can tell you that shifting is NOT lucid dreaming. I also have never experienced psychosis. I have a life outside of shifting including working, college, friends, family, hobbies, etc. I am also a psychology major and have taken several psychology courses. I may not be an "expert" but I have learned a lot from those classes. I am an adult with adult responsibilities. Shifting isn't my entire life, but it is a big part of it.

What will I be posting about? I'll be sharing different things about my journey including experiences and different desired realities. I will share story times, motivation, shifting tips, and also just information that I have learned over the last (almost) five years. I'll also answer any questions anyone has for me. My goal is to help people on their shifting journeys while also going on my own.

Obviously, there is more about me than just this little introductory post, but I'll share more as I post more. I genuinely hope that I am able to help people with their shifting journeys and that my experiences help motivate others. I have zero reason to lie. I don't get paid, nobody knows who I am so I'm not looking for clout or attention, I have a job, I have a life outside of the internet. I am taking time out of my day to post about shifting because I want to. I am not gaining anything from sharing my experiences, except the risk of antishifters harassing me. All I want to do is be truthful of my experiences and help others see that it's real.

With that being said, welcome to my page and I hope we can all be kind and cheer each other on while we go on our different journeys :')

[asherlockstudy]

Fanfic theater not as rhinky as were were hoping! I shouldn't be surprised.

Yes it was actually showing from the trailer that this was a purely comedic thing that would not go far.

There are some interesting points to make though, I think:

I suspected this was a marketing ploy and it was, they wanted to attract more MBs (shippers?) to the Mythical Society. This is why they gave most of it free but they kept the last one behind a paywall.

Link was consistently the best actor of the two and the crew’s votes were strategic in order to create a draw that would lead to the next paywall story. Since the voting of the crew was made up, Jordan chimed in to give credit where it really was due. Link could not help himself and asked “you mean I am more committed to this as an actor or I like this more”? Some people including Rhett joked it was because he liked it more which is an answer Link did not approve of but it felt to me that it was not truly because he had to deny liking this but because Rhett’s consistent comparative coldness is pissing him off. It was also a little evident when he challenged the crew for giving their vote to Rhett in the second story: “At what point exactly did he win you over?”

Having said that, the gap in their performances was not as huge this time as other times. Both acted fake uncomfortable. And yet there were also a few moments where some naturalness slipped in, even in Rhett’s case a few times. The accidental little moments of naturalness always felt more real than the pretense to be so very uncomfortable.

Rhett did not deny this is harder for him. But what does this public statement mean? Surely not that it’s harder for him because Link is more into him than he is into Link because that would be an outing of Link, which Rhett would be careful not to do. So he admitted that he has more trouble letting himself go in such a context in front of everyone, regardless if deep inside there is truth in it or not. But given how much he struggles, my bet is on that things are not fake deep inside (let’s not forget he has easily kissed Chase full on the lips).

Some of the things they both looked so awkwardly silly in pretending to find uncomfortable are things they have effortlessly done throughout their career, for example waist groping. Rhett is an expert at this when it is not labeled “fanfic theatre”. They are also experts at doing much worse in their scripted content but they never take those into account somehow.

They said they were seeing this script for the first time but they seemed to expect some of the things Emily did and Jordan said in advance.

Also, why do they keep saying they have made one fanfic episode in GMM? Aren’t they three?

Funny show though! Kept me good company now that I am sick 🤒