#I’ve had so many incomprehensible ideas today

[crybaby-bkg]

Bakugou is….a pervert. Through and fucking through, and honestly, you would’ve never believed he could’ve been described in such a way.

His little creep habits begun before you two even started dating. He’d ask you if you’d like to train with him, spar a little bit to work on your skill. And you agreed, even though he made you a little nervous with his impending size. He was great though, despite the occasional grope of your thigh and the quick sniff to your hair whenever he’d pin you. As much as he physically intimidated you in stature, you’d manage to pin him once or twice, and told yourself you imagined the bump under your thigh and how shaky his breath had gotten.

He picks you up after you two finish, bench presses you just to hear you giggle. It’s an excuse to grab you more though, feel how soft your skin is under his palm. He throws you over his shoulder when Kiri and Denki walk in with the excuse of wearing you out, which in turn only makes you giggle and kick your feet at him.

And after you start dating, he becomes unabashed with it. You wear a mini skirt around him, and his hands and eyes are glued to your peeking ass. Even kneels behind you when you stand in the entryway, readying yourself to leave, but he can’t let you go until he’s tasted you. Kneels there like some lowly beggar, ready to worship, his tongue asking for a miracle, his teeth biting for more of whatever he could hope to get.

When you go out for date nights, you’ve learned you can’t wear a low cut top around him. His eyes are glued to your chest the entire time, mutters just how pretty you look in the low lighting of the restaurant. And you thank him, ever so gracious and genuine, unaware of the thoughts that rest in the forefront of his mind.

You’re surprised when he pushes you against the passenger door of his car afterwards, face buried in your neck, hands groping at your chest. He pants against your skin, asks if he can fuck your tits when you get home, just one time, please, can he just try it with you once? And who are you to deny him? How could you when he looks so fucked out above you—eyes crossing and fluttering closed as he holds your tits by your stiff nipples to fuck his cock between the slick slide between them?

He’s gross and so perverted and you love it. Love it when he thinks he’s slick stealing your panties just to jerk off in them. When he thinks he’s getting away with coming inside of you when he thinks you’re asleep during the night. When he records your naked silhouette in the shower with the excuse of needing something in the bathroom. Gross, icky man that you can’t help but to love.

[fandomsoda]

So… we’ve come this far, huh?

Today is officially the one year anniversary of my time on Tumblr, and the one year anniversary of my friendship with the lovely person who is @/dinosaurzzz (the slug cat on the right is its sona!).

It is honestly incomprehensible to me that it has been a full year since I got on this site and honestly it has completely changed my life. I have grown more as a person in this year than I believe I ever have in my whole prior life combined. I have found a community where I am loved, where I am safe, and where I am given the space to learn and grow from my mistakes, and that is completely fucking invaluable to me. And I will forever thank Dino for being the final thing to push me to finally get on this site that I already figured would be perfect for me. It has been such a wild ride, and even if Tumblr has muffled the reach of my posts at the moment, I am going to scream this one from the rooftops, and try to show appreciation for everyone who has helped me along this journey.

First of all shout out to my incredible partner @wishtale-blogs, she is the love and light of my life and she truly understands me and has my back. I never, ever thought that I would meet someone who both gets me completely and contrasts me perfectly and having her in my life is something I would never trade absolutely anything for. When you’re young it seems like destiny for partnerships to fall apart simply by nature of it being so early in life, but I genuinely feel as if this is unshakable, and I’m just.. so happy to have her.

And with that I’d next like to shout out our adoptive sons, @karineverse and @the-selfmade-gods. Both of you are absolute angels, lights of my life and people that I would protect with my life. Thank you so much for being here for me and being here for all of your friends and staying strong through all you’ve been through. I’m proud of you, truly I am so proud of you and I love you as if you were my own flesh and blood.

Now, I am going to list out every single person I can think of whom I consider a friend. There will not be elaboration here as this post will be long enough as-is, but just know that I could write a blurb for each of you for why I adore you so much, some of you a whole essay. If your name is not here and you consider us friends, do not hesitate to message or ask me about it, I never want to leave people out and I know how anxiety-inducing it can be to not wind up on one of these lists with someone you care about. That being said, here are the names of all of my amazing friends, in no particular order:

@twinklesporkle, @justanidiotartist, @nyxus-nyx, @jupiter-nwn, @rib-rabbitmask, @still-got-no-idea, @liliallowed, @ashburntcat, @ponnedapple, @person-of-many-names, @itzcherrybonbon, @spamsbylee, @nevil-gonslek, @duckielikeserror, @psycho-chair, @letsatomicbanana, @starmonsterrr, @midnightstarshadow, @colorfulpaintspills, @kenopsia-ksp, @autisticseapanda, @hiro-doodlez, @cherrio-krispz, @emerald-onion, @the-save-star-anomaly, @everydaygremlin, @dreamsb0u, @skylerfurmaniac, @meimeikyu, @silly-inksans-stuff, @sketchingstars03, @shenanogram, @sargentvenipede

And with these friends, I’d also like to take a moment to thank followers of mine who I’ve never known super personally but still value immensely. I don’t truly know you guys, but you seem amazing, thank you so much for being here.

@hex0code, @cherrifruiti, @gloomywoomymoon, @atherflame-theconcubus, @neonordream, @finleyforevermore, @epicnightm, @youracecard, @pearbranch14823, @palisadewasp @wolvesbaneandbuttercups, @crunchontoast, @bloomyspring

Thank all of you so, so much. There would probably be more names but there is a mention limit of 50, so I had to cut some down. Either way, thank you all a million, you all mean so much to me and I think this day is truly going to be the start of a new beginning.

And to all the people who would have been here, the friends who should have been here but aren’t…

if it’s simply because we haven’t talked in a while, I hope you’re alright and I miss you.

but if it’s because you’ve harmed me, I still hope you’re alright and growing as a person. I’m sorry we didn’t work out and I promise I miss the you that I knew. I wish that things had happened differently, and even though you’re likely not seeing this I hope today can be the start of new beginnings for you too. Thanks for the impacts that you’ve left on me, even if those are scars. You guys have also helped make me into who I am, and without hardship it would be hard for me to learn.

Here’s to a new day, and any more lovely years to come.

[focsle]

so we all know sailors were a superstitious lot, but did they believe in actual ghosts? if so, did they have anything specific they'd do other than typical christian things like praying?

Just like today I’m sure some believed in actual ghosts and some didn’t. No one’s a monolith now or historically! Ghost stories and ill omens were often the subject of many a’ yarn with specters ranging from murdered shipmates to dead brides and babies. With that said, with the exception of the tale I’ll share below, I haven’t come across any journals thus far where a man was convinced he saw a ghost in real time (outside of yarn spinning) and did something to defend himself against it (which I believe is what the second half of your question is asking?).

But here’s one of my fav whaling instances about a ghost that I’ve paraphrased before but I’ll share in full here. It comes from wet-blanket Charles Nordhoff, who shipped on a whaler out of New Bedford in 1850 and wrote about his experience in his travel journal ‘Whaling and Fishing’. All his shipmates were convinced his berth was haunted, he was deeply skeptical, and as a result everyone but the cook fuckin hated him for it. Under the readmore:

“It was but a few days before we left the bay, that a singular incident occurred, which, had the succeeding circumstances been only more favorable, would have given rise to a veritable and most undeniable ghost-story. Many such, I dare say, rest on a less plausible foundation. 

The humpback is in many regards a fish of very singular habits, differing in great measure from those of any other species of the whale. Among his oddities is one which those of us who daily labored in the boats had soon gotten used to, but of which the ship-keepers knew nothing. A whale would sometimes get under the boat, at such a depth below the surface that the crew were entirely unaware of his presence, and there utter the most doleful groans, interspersed with a gurgling sound such as a drowning man may be supposed to make. The first time I heard these sounds it was almost incomprehensible to me that they could proceed from a whale. But close watching of their motions convinced us all that they were the true authors. So little noteworthy had the matter been thought after its cause was explained, that it was not a topic of conversation on board, and so it came about that our ship-keepers were left in entire ignorance of the imitative powers of the humpback. 

One morning about eleven o'clock, when the boats were all on the daily cruise, and but half a dozen men on board each ship, our steward happened into the forecastle, and was there startled by a most unearthly groan. Thinking that his ears were deceived, he listened intently for its repetition, and was soon gratified. A moan as of one in terrible agony, he said, issued from the berth of the present writer. Two jumps carried him safely to the deck, where he at once informed the cook of what he had heard, declaring his firm belief that the ship was haunted. The cook laughed at the, to him, funny idea, and thought a ghost must have but poor taste, to come into this outlandish part of the world. The steward, however, related his story to the ship-keepers, and asked them, to make assurance doubly sure to step into the forecastle in person, and regale their ears with the mysterious noise. Accordingly, all hands (only three, the other three being at work ashore), descended to the haunted region. They had scarcely entered, when the groans were repeated with even more horrible emphasis than before. With hair erect, and elongated faces, they listened sufficiently long to vouch that the real sounds proceeded from no where else but my berth; and then, overcome with terror, rushed to the deck, seized the jolly boat, and took refuge on board our partner ship. The black cook alone remained on board. He scorned to run from anything that could only groan, and having satisfied himself that there was no tangible cause for the noises, in or about my berth, quietly busied himself about his galley thinking, as he remarked to me afterward, that “if it was really a ghost, and it did the poor thing any good to groan, he had not the slightest objection.”

In a short time the sounds could be heard upon deck, and then they gradually died away, until presently quiet was restored, and the affrighted fugitives returned to the vessel.

“It is a ghost or spirit, that's certain,” asserted the steward, who had told the captain of it, already before the latter got out of his boat. 

“If you talk to me of ghosts again, stupid, I'll put your head in a bucket of water,” was the reply. 

This threat put an effectual stop to the dissemination of spiritualism in the after part of the ship; but meantime, our ship-keepers had laid their experience before the forecastle, the story of course gaining fresh horrors with every recital. The case was so plain - even the cook, who laughed at the whole matter, having to own that he heard the sounds, and that they were marvelously like human groans - that most of our greenhorns soon became devout believers in the immediate presence of a spirit in our midst, and the poor Portuguese, whose nature it was to be superstitious, turned a sickly yellow, and began to shake in their boots. 

Having heard the matter duly discussed, I ventured to suggest that it was clearly a humpback that made the mysterious noise. This was treated, however, with that degree of scorn which is usually bestowed upon any reasonable explanation of a ghost story. My scornful laugh was severely frowned down, and I was informed by one of the wiseacres that the groans having evidently come from my berth, and no where else, portended some unheard of accident to myself. So eagerly does ignorant humanity swallow the most egregious humbug, if there is only something supernatural about it, that of the sixteen men who had probably heard the same groans dozens of times in the boat, not one could now be convinced, by reason or ridicule, that those in question owed their existence to a natural cause.

I found myself regarded as a doomed man; and certain of the more friendly disposed privately advised me to prepare my mind for the approaching calamity, and even offered to share their berths with me, not considering it prudent that I should sleep in the haunted bed. If my excellent ship mates before cordially hated me for my unsociable spirit, they were now doubly bitter against me on account of my present doubts; and one poor fellow went so far as to impugn my faith in the existence of a Deity, on the ground of my skepticism on the subject of ghosts.

I joined with the cook in laughing at their foolish fears (which by the way procured me the present of a huge piece of pie from that worthy, who declared me to be a “good fellow”) and slept soundly as ever before in my haunted bedplace.

The ghost was the staple of conversation next morning at breakfast and prophecies were freely made that before sundown that day, our boat would be stove, and I would be severely injured, if not killed. Fortunately for my credit, not an accident occurred during the remainder of our stay in the bay. Had I been in the slightest degree injured, or even had our boat been stove, as was prophesied, this would have formed a well authenticated ghost story, and I should no doubt have been held up to future generations of whalemen as a melancholy example of stubborn unbelief.”

[sophiewagentje]

So today there was a pretty shocking shooting in/around a hospital in my city and it’s just scary and incomprehensible. I went to high school on the other side of the street and I’ve been in that hospital a lot these past years and the thought that I could’ve been there or someone I care about is terrifying tbh. That man brought so many people in danger for no apparent reason.. he killed three people, set fire to an apartment and a room in the hospital and parts of the hospital had to be evacuated. There are images of bed bound sick people on the street and just the idea alone that that could’ve been my mom just a few years ago is sickening. The whole idea is sickening and I don’t believe I’ve ever been this shocked and upset over something that happened in this city. I really hope none of my followers where there and if someone who reads this was, I wish you all the strength there is to deal with this🫶🏼

[junk-thrillz]

I’ve tried multiple times today to write down Suzy’s name in full, but it’s like a shadow spirit is holding my fingers back every time. My desire to have an easy-to-guess, accurate method of character tagging for Paranatural posts is completely at odds with the fact that tagging ANY post as ‘Suzy Starchman’ feels like unleashing a million devils.

This isn’t a negativity post, like I’ve been genuinely delighted by everything these past few updates have thrown at us, but I’ll admit, it’s fucking WEIRD knowing Suzy’s last name. It’s so weird!! It’s so weeeeeeird!! I archive-binged the comic and joined the fandom right as Chapter 7 was starting, and on top of that I started reading as a teenager (still a teenager), so the couple years it took for Chapter 7 to wrap up felt much, much longer than it actually was. And in those years I’d gone through so many damn fic/au ideas and binged so much fan content and memorized so many fan theories and reread the comic so many times and had had such an eclectic development of my character/shipping/etc. tastes that it all felt like an eternity.

But now we’re out of Chapter 7, and because it’s not a flashback chapter, things are progressing at a normal pace again, and because of that every new reveal feels to me like a punch in the face you know is coming, but that comes way faster than expected. The thing is, Chapter 7 feeling like such a long stretch of time to me got me into the mindset that I’d be waiting for a lot of stuff for forever. Suzy’s name being this big mystery was something I’ve been thinking about since the very beginning of my reading the comic, but any sort of information being revealed about it felt infinitely far-off, like the kind of thing that would never really end up happening. Putting together the puzzle pieces of what happened between Isaac and Dimitri, getting a crapton of information revealed about Paranatural’s fundamental lore, finally getting confirmation that Max’s mom was Agent Summers... all of these things felt that way too. I wasn’t expecting to be knocked out of a fandom-only existence, where fan content remains, on some small level, stagnant*, because we simply weren’t getting a ton of information revealed to us.

My immediate reaction is, “didn’t the Angel’s-identity reveal happen too soon?” “Didn’t the reveal of Suzy’s name happen too soon?” “Didn’t Dimitri’s lie getting thrown out into the open happen too soon?” But this is how it should be. This is normal. Not everything can or should be revealed at the very end of the comic. It’s just hard for me to wrap my head around, is all. On some level, I don’t think I was able to imagine someday waking up to a new page with Violet and Lisa on it. But Chapter 8′s happening, and we’re moving forward in time, and we’re almost back at Mayview Middle...! I just don’t know how to explain to my own brain that information getting revealed is normal.

*When I say stagnant, I mean it in the sense that Paranatural’s only ever going to have so many mysteries. For the longest time, Suzy’s name was THE mystery about her! For the longest time, Suzy and Isabel’s dynamic was stand-out as being completely and utterly incomprehensibly fantastically hilariously weird. And silly. So these things come up again and again, and they never stop being fun. Every fandom’s got its own identity! Bits like the Miss-Suzy theory and Suzabel’s dynamic are wonderfully ingrained in fancontent, and have been for years. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

[szydlowski]

June 19 - Nara

Today we went to Nara, which was about an hour away. Nara was the ancient capital before Kyoto. Because of its old age, there are many important Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines that are really old and historically significant. We saw the giant Buddha, which was actually completely inside a temple. I was amazed by how big it was and wonder whether they built the temple or the statue first. There was a hole the size of the statues nostril that people lined up to crawl through, and I was able to make it through with help from others pulling me. The best part of the day was the Nara deer, who I had heard about online so much before coming to Japan. There were so many more than I expected, and they were completely unbothered by the presence of humans and cats around them. I fed so many, and even got to pet them if they let me. I liked that they were holy deer and that people protect them instead of exploiting them.

Academic Reflection

Todays readings were about Buddhism. I’m really interested in Buddhism and have connected with it a lot this trip. I think it’s because Japanese Buddhist cuisine (Shojin Ryori) is completely vegan, and Buddhist temples here are very connected with nature. I liked the discussion we had in the morning and hearing other people’s views on Buddhist concepts. For example, the idea of just how long it took the one guy to become a Buddha is incomprehensible, and contrasts with what most people believe about human existence and time. At the temple, I felt the huge presence of the Buddha statue looming above me. Even though I knew it would be big, I was still shocked that humans constructed it. I also noticed in the museum some relics that had been unearthed from beneath the huge statue. I was wondering weather digging up those things from under the temple is considered disrespectful to the temple and the people that buried them there. I’ve noticed that a lot of museums we’ve visited have statues and lanterns and things taken from Buddhist temples and I wonder what the deal is with that.

[sincewereahoe]

The way your work place is run is truly incomprehensible. Its beyond inefficient??? Even if they’re not paying you much, they’re wasting hundreds of dollars weekly on making you waste your time. What a shit show. Sending you love, hope you find a better job soon! ❤️❤️❤️

It’s actually so inefficient. They change their minds about everything last minute. And never accept my offers for organizing until it’s THEIR idea.

Like I shit you not. Their finances must be horrendous, there is zero reporting guidelines. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve put stuff through the company credit card and never provided a receipt or invoice. However, I saw that as a problem and a month ago LITERALLY ASKED AND OFFERED to create a shared folder where monthly we just drop all out expenses, invoices or recipes we accumulated. I asked my director and the CFO if this would be better and was pretty much told “sending emails is fine”.

Well surprise, surprise. They text me yesterday after hours if I can upload the invoices today. AND TO BOOT MANY IF THE INVOICES IVE ALREADY SENT THREE TIMES, and then THEY DID A FOLDER AND TRACKING SHEET THEMSELVES EXACTLY HOW I SAID WE SHOULD A MONTH AGO.

I knew they were gonna do this to me so I have been saving all the invoices directly to my computer so all it took was for me to drag and drop the whole thing. Again, I’ve been through their chaos so many times I’m starting to prepare myself for it so I’m not running around. Whereas before their system I’d be going through my whole email searching for them.

I literally called out my director today, and was like “remember I asked for us to do this a month ago” and then further asked “when should reporting be completed, my last company we had to have it done by the 5th of each month”. To which he wasn’t sure.

[yosua--0699]

How Dusk would lose her first kiss.

The Doctor stared in awe as Dusk’s hand flew across the paper like a crane above water. The painting was already there, her pen only needed to bring it to reality. And bring it, she did; within seconds, entire mountains and rivers were formed. Their dark, shadowy outlines shimmered under the light, almost as if they were... alive. Before the ink could even slightly saturate the paper, Dusk swiftly formed crashing waterfalls, reeds dancing with the wind, birds futilely chasing the rays of the sun. An entire reality, formed within moments.

The Doctor clapped softly. “Amazing,” he gasped softly. “I can’t even-”

“Hm,” Dusk pursed her lips, and then sighed. “Not good enough. Time to start again.” 

With a flick, the ink faded from the paper scroll, leaving it as white and spotless as snow.

The Doctor opened his mouth to form words, but stopped. The talent and power of the youngest Dragon sister was indeed incomprehensibly incredible. To create and erase whole worlds at a whim, it was a wonder how Kroos and Lava emerged practically unscathed. And yet, here he was, sitting side-by-side next to the most powerful artist in existence, alone. Their only audience was the massive piles of scrolls and unfinished works that surrounded them. 

“Doctor,” Dusk murmured, breaking his thoughts. “Did you have a request you’d like me to draw?”

Startled, the Doctor joked, “I thought you don’t take commissions.”

Dusk shrugged. “I’m feeling generous today. Besides, you’re my conversation partner, and I’d hate to not give a little gift at the very least.”

The Doctor thought for a few moments. A truly rare opportunity, but what did he want? Then, an idea formed, and a smile crept across his face.

“Then, can you draw something romantic? Like a story of a couple falling in love?”

Dusk raised an eyebrow. “Oh? I didn’t take you as a fan for something so... gauche. But, if you insist.”

The Doctor watched intently as Dusk’s brush yet again another story - one told in thick strokes of ink. The tale of a man meeting a woman, their idle chatters slowly becoming intimate conversations; their eyes locking, exchanging an emotion that words cannot convey; their smiles, unchanging despite the many years that they share together. 

“Hm, something about it feels off,” Dusk murmured. She tapped her brush against the table in thought.

The Doctor peered at the scroll, and frowned. Where was the wedding? Or, even before that - where was the kiss?

“Uh, Dusk,” the Doctor started, “Aren’t they supposed to kiss or something somewhere?”

The dragon mistress suddenly sat up straight, as if her spine was replaced with a metal pole. What a response, the Doctor thought. A moment of silence passed before Dusk cleared her throat and said somewhat hesitantly, “I can’t draw what I’ve never experienced before.”

The revelation shocked the Doctor. “You’ve never kissed any-”

“Silence, be quiet, shut up, or I’ll throw you into this scroll.” The Doctor couldn’t see her face, but the tips of her pointed ears had turned a subtle pink. He took a moment to stifle his laughter before asking teasingly, “You wanna give it a shot?”

The Doctor could practically hear the ink drying through the dead silence that followed his question.

A minute passed. Maybe two. Maybe, just maybe, the Doctor thought, this is the moment where I mysteriously disappear from this plane of existence. Then, a hushed, almost inaudible reply:

“Close your eyes.”

The Doctor had to take a moment to process her response. Was she being serious? So whimsically? Sure, she quite literally draws whole worlds on a fancy, but an ageless dragon making a decision like this so easily? He didn’t know what to say, or do.

“Hurry up, before I change my mind,” Dusk snapped, who had finally turned to face the flustered Doctor. Her usually calm, even gaze had a fierceness and determination he had never seen before. 

[makeste]

BnHA 323: “I Don’t Know How to Explain to You That You Should Care About Other People”

Previously on BnHA: Kacchan was all, “Izuku, I’m sorry.” Bakugou Stans were all, “[sobs for a week straight and tearfully awards him the Nobel Prize for character development].” Deku was all, “[faints in Kacchan’s arms].” Iida was all, “[trying to decide if Ochako genuinely tried to kill him a few minutes ago].” Horikoshi was all, “NO TIME FOR HUGS WE MUST GET BACK TO UA.” The civilians holed up at U.A. were all, “WE TOOK A VOTE AND DECIDED THAT WE’RE ALL GOING TO BE JERKS ABOUT THIS AND MAKE A BIG FUSS ABOUT YOU LETTING DEKU BACK INTO THE SCHOOL.” Deku was all “[stands there looking like he expected nothing less and breaking my heart more and more with each passing moment].” Ochako was all, “that does it, looks like I’m gonna have to do something about this... next chapter, that is.”

Today on BnHA: Flashback!Rat Principal is all “I just want you all to know that I spent nine million dollars turning U.A. into a giant Battleship-style grid that can burrow underground and zoom around in a giant subway maze because Horikoshi lacks a grounded understanding of both civil engineering and economics.” Back in the present day, Jeanist is all, “EVERYONE TAKE HEED, MY COMRADES AND I HAVE DEEMED IT EXPEDIENT TO CONVEY THIS AUSPICIOUS YOUTH BACK TO THIS STRONGHOLD. WE ANTICIPATE THAT WE MAY DEPEND UPON YOUR GOODWILL AND ACQUIESCENCE TO THESE TERMS.” The civilians were all, “NO.” Ochako was all, “EMPATHY, MOTHERFUCKERS, DO YOU SPEAK IT?!” The civilians were all, “oh shit.” Anyway so Ochako is a giant badass, but I’m a little worried that she’s going to get struck by lightning. Please come down from there.

so before we start this chapter, I would just like to apologize for having not posted the ch 321 recap yet, and would like to reassure everyone, and especially Iida who is staring at me with Sad Wobbly Guilt Trip Eyes, that I will get to that as soon as I can

OMG FLASHBACK??

yes please Horikoshi please show us more of class 1-A and their Deku intervention strategy jam sessions

oh dear

Iida you are too pure and good for this cruel world. [sprays the U.A. civilians with a water bottle] NO. BAD CIVILIANS! NO OSTRACIZING SCARED AND EXHAUSTED CHILDREN IN THE HOUSE

EXCUSE ME RAT PRINCIPAL WHAT’S WITH THESE MIXED MESSAGES

???

RAT PRINCIPAL: he’s free to return to us at any time!!

ALSO RAT PRINCIPAL: but it’s too risky for him to return to us

?? ??????? ?????????????????????

so now he’s going on about how strong the U.A. Barrier is, and how it’s comparable to the defensive capabilities of Tartarus. this would have sounded a lot more impressive before chapter 297 lol

OH!!!! HELLO, WHAT’S THIS!!!

A TIMELY CALLBACK TO A CERTAIN MYSTERIOUS EVENT WHICH HASN’T BEEN REFERENCED SINCE USJ? [U.A. TRAITOR MUSIC INTENSIFIES]

so now Rat Principal says he upgraded U.A.’s security systems with his own “modifications”, whatever the fuck that means. I mean look, I’ve been saying for a long time now that U.A. is the best place for everyone to hole up, don’t get me wrong. but that was mostly on account of there not being any other practical alternatives. but you’re making it sound like you figured out a way to actually make it Decay-proof or some wild shit like that

-- hold up, DID YOU ADD A FORCE FIELD. DID YOU TRICK THIS SCHOOL OUT WAKANDA-STYLE YOU CRAZY MARSUPIAL. HOLY SHIT. because that would actually be perfect

LMAO

WHAT KIND OF GALAXY BRAIN BULLSHIT. “NAH THERE’S NO NEED FOR A FORCE FIELD, LET’S JUST PUT WHEELS ON IT”

oh okay so the whole campus is basically capable of burrowing itself underground. that’s insane lol I wonder how they pulled that off. probably got poor Cementoss working overtime

blah blah blah so basically the entire campus is split into a grid and each section of the grid is capable of its own independent movement. lol this is just the Merone Base from KHR. you thought no one would notice this casual plagiarism ten years after the fact, but YOU UNDERESTIMATED YOUR AUDIENCE, HORIKOSHI

“joke’s on you imma just lampshade it” WELL ALL RIGHT THEN

“look at me I’m so fucking self-aware” fucking swear to god. I can’t believe this man is my favorite mangaka of all time smdh

“excuse me, I wasn’t finished describing all the rest of this bullshit yet,” Rat Principal breaks in impatiently. “we also added a steel wall all around the underground of the campus that’s 3000 steel plates thick. that’s fifteen fucking meters of solid fucking steel just fyi. and if anyone fucks around with any part of it the defense system will activate immediately! and also all of the plates are independently motorized, whatever the fuck that means!! in conclusion you’re gonna need a fucking tower crane to suspend all of your disbelief by the time I’m through with this paragraph”

“also Shiketsu is almost as reinforced as U.A. but not quite because we still had to make sure we were better.” but of course. and apparently the two schools are connected via a secret tunnel as Hagakure mentioned earlier

LSDKFJLSDKJFLK

“WAIT WHAT” LMAO YOU HEARD HIM, NOW INASA CAN VISIT YOU BOTH IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND TELL YOU ALL ABOUT THE WEIRD DREAM HE HAD. GOD BLESS YOU HORIKOSHI

(ETA: moment of appreciation for Shouto and Katsuki having the same thought at the same time and making Knowing Eye Contact and saying the exact same thing out loud in perfect unison like the best friends they are. what a blessed day.)

so Tokoyami is all “but wait if you engineered all this shit all the way back during the Band arc how did you even know that Tomura’s quirk awakening would become a thing, Horikoshi -- uh, I mean, Principal Nezu”

and Rat Principal is all “lol idk”

“basically I just woke up one morning and was all ‘say, you know what this school really needs? a fifteen-meter-thick underground steel wall, and the ability to break up into little pieces that individually zoom around wherever the fuck they want.’ jesus christ. lol if money and common sense were apparently no obstacle why didn’t you just teleport U.A. to the fucking moon or something. maybe I should shut up before I given him any ideas

dsfaelkjldkjgl

you heard it here first, folks, all of this cost a grand total of nine million U.S. dollars. well technically it cost “more than” nine million dollars. never has that distinction been more important lmao. are we sure this barrier was really made of steel and not cardboard? who the hell sold it to them, Ea-Nasir??

this is my favorite manga series of all time. yes I am ashamed

“in conclusion please do your best to reach Deku-kun” SO WHAT WAS ALL THAT NONSENSE ABOUT IT BEING TOO RISKY THEN. anyway thank you for this super informative and edifying flashback, Horikoshi. I will cherish it always. I don’t even want to read another translation of this absurdity lmao, there’s something special about it just the way it is. pretty sure Horikoshi just had a cracked out fever dream one night and transferred it to the pages of the manga verbatim

anyway so back to the unruly mob

not their finest moment. please excuse me while I cover poor Deku’s ears and give him a good shoosh pap

oh wow the parents are out here too

is Mitsuki trying to hold Inko back?? that’s the last thing this fandom needs right now is more Mitsuki discourse fffwlkjs. and even Jiroudad, scientifically proven to be the best dad in all of BnHA, is just standing there silently looking vaguely unhappy. way to rise to the moment you guys

MONOMA

so this settles it for me that Aizawa is not at UA. I know a lot of people have been wondering about his whereabouts, and if I had to wager a guess it would be that something happened with Shirakumo/Kurogiri. I can’t think of anything else -- even the loss of an eye and a limb -- that would keep him from his kids at a time like this

anyway but this is excellent Monoma content right here though. I love that he apparently adopted Eri after a single interaction with her. also WHERE IS SHINSOU DAMMIT. THE PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW

and Kouta’s there too looking like he wants to run over to Deku but Ragdoll won’t let him :/

it’s gotta be pretty upsetting for him to see his hero like this and not having anyone stand up for him. [taps megaphone] IS THIS THING ON. OKAY YEAH IT SEEMS TO BE WORKING. AHEM. PAGING URARAKA OCHAKO. GONNA NEED YOU TO GET OVER HERE ALREADY AND MAKE THAT BIG DRAMATIC SPEECH WHICH YOU ARE CLEARLY DYING TO MAKE. IF YOU DON’T DO IT SOON I’M GONNA HAVE TO STEP IN, AND YOU REALLY DON’T WANT ME TO DO THAT SINCE MY SPEECH WILL NOT BE VERY GOOD OR INSPIRING, AND WILL PROBABLY JUST CONSIST OF “HELLO, YOU ARE ALL STUPID, PLEASE SHUT UP AND GO AWAY”

so now Mic is telling them to calm down. at least someone’s speaking up here, geez

OH MY GOD

MY MAN JEANIST OUT HERE DOING WHAT HE DOES BEST: MAKING EVERYONE FEEL GUILTY AND JUDGED

OH MY GOD HE IS GIVING SUCH A LONG AND BORING SPEECH LMAO IS YOUR STRATEGY TO PUT THEM ALL TO SLEEP OR WHAT

truly in awe of this man’s ability to take messages which could easily be conveyed in ELI5-speak, and stubbornly convert them into incomprehensible language the likes of which you need a graduate degree in order to understand

“hey guys, so originally our plan was to use Deku as bait for the villains, but that didn’t really work and also we realized it was kinda dumb and was probably gonna get him killed, so we brought him back here instead.” was that really so hard, Jeanist. also are we all really just gonna sit back here and watch Jeanist take full credit for Bakugou’s plan just like that lmao

(ETA:

WHERE DID ENDEAVOR GO AND WHO IS THIS DIABOLICAL MASTER OF DISGUISE. lol I genuinely didn’t notice this because I was too busy digging through thesauruses trying to rewrite Jeanist’s speech; many thanks to @class1akids​ for pointing it out and making my day immeasurably better. take it easy there Dick Tracy.)

“anyway so please stop being dicks and let him fucking rest so he can save all your ungrateful asses” what an impassioned and inspiring plea. time to see if the masses will listen to reason

narrator: they did not listen to reason

oh my god finally Ochako is doing something. YEAH OCHAKO WOOOO SHOW THEM HOW IT’S DONE

hmm

this entire chapter is truly and utterly nonsensical to me lol

(ETA: on my second readthrough I’m fucking dying at how she stole the megaphone right out of Mic’s hand lmao. and how Kacchan is all “fuck yeah nothing I appreciate more than some quality fucking larceny.”)

oh I see she was jumping on top of the main building so as to scream down at them all more impressively

“ANYWAY DEKU IS PRETTY COOL ACTUALLY, YOU GUYS ARE JUST MEAN” couldn’t have said it better myself Ochako

lol uh

gotta say I did not have “Ochako reveals the secret of OFA to the entire U.A. Citizen Clown Parade” on my bingo card for this week. it’s a bold strategy cotton let’s see if it pays off

SDLFKJSL

“NO, SERIOUSLY, HAVE YOU LOOKED AT HIM YOU GUYS. YOU THINK HE LIKES RUNNING AROUND DRESSED LIKE A RUSTED OIL DRUM?? HE DID THAT FOR YOU YOU UNGRATEFUL SLOBS”

so she is basically explaining the entire Deku Angst arc to them and explaining what a good and selfless protagonist Deku is, YES, PREACH

OMG IT’S THE GIGANTIC FOX LADY

not to insinuate anything, but what exactly were you doing standing out here with the hysterical mob, Gigantic Fox Lady? you’re better than that

-- KACCHAN SIGHTING!!

sdlkfjl. thanks for weighing in with that helpful and important observation. where have you been for the last five minutes. were you asleep. was it Jeanist’s speech

never mind, now he’s yelling at the civilians so I instantly forgive him

THE FUTURE NUMBER ONE HERO, EVERYONE. THANK YOU, THANK YOU. HE’LL BE HERE ALL WEEK

“anyway so I’m just going to end the chapter here” lmao seventeen pages truly do go by so fast. at least he didn’t try to force in a cliffhanger at the end this time. dare I say, growth

so I guess the civilians are either gonna have a Kamino and/or Fukuoka-esque moment where they remember how to be decent people and apologize to this poor young man, or else they’ll remain unpersuaded, and so Kacchan will have to knock a few of their heads around until they become more inclined to be reasonable. either option is fine by me lol

[obeymematches]

hi can i request for a hcs of the demon reacting to mc/reader speaking in their native language??

hi, sure! thank you for sending in a request <3

short personal story because this request made me think of that moment- so anyways i was working at a foreign country w ppl from many countries but only 2 of us had the same native language & my friend used to date this guy, right. anyways one time me and this friend got into a heated conversation & switched to our native language in his presence. about five minutes in he stops us with the most serious expression i’ve ever seen on him & he just goes “do you guys actually understand any of this or do you just pretend??” idk it was funny

Prologue/Setting;

It is a Tuesday afternoon at the House of Lamentation / Castle. Today you managed to get in contact with your friends / siblings / family for the first time since you were in the Devildom. You were told it is going to be a rare occassion, so you made the most out of it - you were in a call with them for the past three hours. It was a miracle how your time was not interrupted. Soon after your call ended, you hear a knock on your door. Without further ado it opens, revealing the demon seeking your attention. How long had he been waiting??! 

He steps in and asks you what you’d like to have for dinner as tonight the family orders from Hell’s Kitchen. 

You give an incomprehensive answer in your native language of a very specific item on the menu, including what condiment you prefer and the size of your meal.

Lucifer: He always knew you were bilingual as sometimes you couldn’t find the proper words, but he never heard you talk in your native language so bluntly to him. “I take the quality of your call was excellent, I’m glad. Could you repeat your order? I do not speak your language”  Lucifer is proud of your language knowledge and absolutely finds it adorable how your mind didn’t pick up on the sitation. How could he blame you? Definitely teasing you later though. 

Mammon: He picked up some words of your native language after you taught him a little. Occassionally you use your native language when you answer yes/no questions - which is how much he understands of your language at this point (and some curse words). However, this was different. Did you say you wanted ketchup? Or did that refer to the size of the meal? “Human you are talking to me! Stop kidding, I’m hungry!” 

Leviathan: He... he just wanted to know what you wanted for dinner. Has no idea what you said. It could have been about how much you hate him, from what he understood of it. He will never know.  Stares at you, blinking for a hot second, then asks you to repeat it. He thinks you sound cute when you speak like that, but it is also concerning as he has no clue what he just heard.

Satan: He has some linguistic knowledge and you had a conversation about it before. Fascinated to learn about it and he asked you to teach him some before. It is a turn-on to talk to him like that. There is so much he doesn’t know yet. He replies with “I do not know / understand” in your native language, which you taught him before. 

Asmodeus: Listen when he learned that you speak another language, he immediately wanted to know how to say “I love you” and “I hate you” in your native language. To him it was adorable to hear you speak like that, but honestly he is very confused and didn’t process anything of what he just heard. Please repeat it to him:( Insist on how hot you sounded though. 

Beelzebub: Okay he knows food but he didn’t recognize anything besides ketchup and burger. He assumes you wanted fries too? Doesn’t say anything, he just stares at you as he is processing the information. Right when he opens his mouth to ask you to repeat yourself, you became self-aware enough for the situation. 

Belphegor: Is he going crazy ? He didn’t understand anything of what he just heard yet you said it so naturally. After a confused second he kindly asks you to repeat yourself in a language he understands too. Late he asks you to talk to him in your native language, tell him a bed-time story or something. Would love to fall asleep listening to that! He also wants to learn how to curse in your language. 

 At The Caslte;

Diavolo: He is taken by surprise but he knows you well enough to assume it wasn’t a curse spell. The situation makes him even more curious about humans and how the brain works. Makes you promise to teach him later. He makes a very excited learner, and comments on how smart you are and how proud he is! 

Barbatos: Freezes for a second, but keeps up a polite smile. He doesn’t really make a big deal out of it, but he does appreciate your knowledge. Very polite when he asks you to repeat your order. He is definitely teasing you about it later though. 

[fanmoose12]

the devil you know

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Moblit Berner, Zeke Yeagar, Armin Arlert

Genres: Action / Drama

Summary: Can you still miss a person, if everything you knew about them was a lie?

Сhapter 7/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Сhapter 6

Life had never been particularly kind to Hange Zoe. Tragedies and heartbreaks followed her ever since the day she was born – kicking, screaming and nearly killing her own mother. Her mother never recovered from that blow, her health diminishing while vexation with her own child grew.

That day gave a start to Hange’s life – and to the endless stream of misfortunes she had to face.

Those misfortunes frequented, the amount of bad days increased as Hange was becoming older. But even as a child, driven solely by curiosity and fascination for the world, uncaring of the workings and the rules of the society around her, she had her fair share of frustrations. They usually appeared when her father was around – luckily, due to the nature of his work, he very rarely was. Hange didn’t know her father well, he was always absent, always somewhere else, doing something incredibly important, shaping the future of their country. He was many things - a leader, soldier, hero. But he was not a father. Hange had but a few memories of him, and after all these years she had forgotten the sound of his voice, couldn’t for the life of her remember if his hair was as brown as her own, or had she inherited that vivid color from her mother. But what Hange could never forget, what was etched into her memory for all eternity was the look in his eyes – full of incomprehension, bewilder, disappointment – that he always aimed at her. No matter what she did – excitedly gushed about her studies, showed him a shiny rock she found or urged to go and see the frog she caught, her father had the same reaction, always told her the same thing,

“I expected better from you, Hange.”

Those words were the first dagger that was buried in her chest. But it was far from being the only one.

Her father died before she reached her eleventh birthday. And despite the mourning clothes mother had forced her to wear, despite the endless eulogies she had to sit through, Hange didn’t feel the same sadness that everyone around her did, she didn’t – couldn’t – share their pain or understand their grief. Her father meant something for all those people, but to her he was just a stranger, an unpleasant one at that. When he died, a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Without him, it was so much easier to breathe.

But her sorrows, her frustrations— sadly, they didn’t end with her father’s death.

Once Hange finished her studies, completed her training, she was sent to the outside world, far away from Marley. And for a moment, for one fleeting moment, she was happy, excited to do what she always wanted – learn and explore. But she was not meant to busy herself with research, to familiarize herself with different cultures, she was sent to these distant lands as a soldier, a weapon of great Marleyan Empire. Instead of books and quills, she held a rifle and a knife. And the only thing she learnt was how much blood her motherland was spilling on the foreign soils.

Sleep was coming harder to her after that, her dreams were haunted by visions of red, by screams of pain and anguish. She had become a soldier, her hands made for creation were now covered in blood. Her brilliant mind was now broken by the horrors she had faced.

And so Hange decided to cover herself in thick armor, to hide behind a smile and false happiness. The bad days persisted, losses following after her like a shadow, chasing like an infatuated lover, but she didn’t let it break her, continued moving forward with her chin raised high and her lips curled up.

However, despite the positive attitude she had adopted, there were lots of days Hange considered bad, awful even – the day when she learned just how Titans were created, what price Eldians had to pay for that; the day when she realized that her teacher, brilliant Tom Ksaver was one of those so called shifters, that his days in this world would end abruptly; the day when she received her first wound and spent the night in infirmary, wallowing in pain; the day when she killed another human for the first time and saw the light fading from someone else’s eyes; the day when Wall Maria fell and she witnessed just how much destruction and devastation she helped to bring to this little island; the day when Mike and Nanaba died; the day when her squad perished; the day when she had to leave Paradis behind; the day when she was brought back.

There were lots of days Hange considered to be bad. But nothing – absolutely nothing – could compare to the fucking shit show that was waiting for her next.

___

This fateful day was off to a good, if only slightly weird, start. As always she was woken up by a knock on the door. However, this one was very different from Moblit’s – less rhythmic, and much louder. In fact, it didn’t sound like a knock at all, more like someone was kicking the door repeatedly.

Confused and still sleepy, Hange rolled from the bed and went to greet her guest, not bothering to put her glasses on. Behind the now opened door she found… a shape that could or could not belong to a human. She raised her hand, mumbled a quick ‘sorry’ and darted back inside the room, blindly searching for her glasses.

Once the specs took their rightful place on the bridge of her nose, Hange returned back to the shape that now took the form of a young, blonde man. She trailed her gaze down, to the tray he was holding. There were plates with pastries, omelet, sandwiches, sausages and a cup with brown liquid that had steam coming out of it.

“I’m sorry,” she spoke through her confusion, “But do I know you?”

“Not… yet?”

Hange couldn’t understand if his words were meant to be an affirmation or a question. Nevertheless, she took a step back, letting him in.

He went straight to setting up the table, humming under his breath as he did so. Hange watched him work, not knowing how to feel – puzzled or amused. She tried to catch the boy’s gaze and ask for his name, but, considering the amount of food he brought and how exquisitely delicious it looked, Hange already had a pretty solid guess about the persona of her visitor.

“Be my guest,” he gestured to the table after he finished setting it. Then, as an afterthought, he added, “My name is Niccolo.”

“I guessed it already,” Hange smiled, taking a seat. Her stomach growled, as the delicious smell of homemade food entered her nostrils, her mouth filling with saliva even before she took a fork in her hands. She forced herself to look away from the food, however, directing her eyes at the man who had prepared it all. “Thank you for the food, but may I ask what is the occasion?”

Niccolo didn’t answer right away. He took his time, dragging the chair to sit on the other side of the table, then absentmindedly fixing the napkin and pushing the plate closer to Hange.

She didn’t urge him, patiently waiting for him to start talking. She had a feeling that whatever he came here to tell her was going to be extremely interesting.

And Niccolo didn’t disappoint.

“I’ve spent most of my life hating Eldians. Like every good, conscious Marleyan, I believed them to be devils and abominations. When these people captured me I thought it’d be better to die than live among them. But then I’ve got to know them better, I cooked for them, I’ve talked with them, I… grew to like some of them.”

He took a pause, and Hange used this moment to push some food into her mouth. Just as she expected – it was finger-liking good. And it tasted even better, because she also had an intriguing story she could listen to while eating.

“And there is one person that I like most of all, more than anyone I had ever met. I’ve realized my feelings long ago - perhaps, they were born the moment that I set my eyes on her, perhaps, it was destiny that brought both of us together. And to think of it – a Marleyan and an Eldian. If someone had told me years ago that I’d fall for a devil from Paradis, I’d probably punch that person in the face, but look at me now…”

A Marleyan and an Eldian? Hange had heard that story before. Hopefully, Niccolo’s would have a happier ending.

“I wanted to confess to Sasha for a while now, but the time was never right, and I kept stalling… You know, I thought there was no reason to be hasty. but then Jean told me what happened during the attack on Liberio, how I almost lost Sasha and my chance to tell her how I truly feel, so…” Niccolo looked Hange in the eyes, his gaze shining with the love he had for Sasha. “I came to say thank you. For giving me another chance.”

Oh, what a sweetheart. Hange felt her chest warm at the sight of such devotion. She always was a sucker for a young, tender love.

“And?” she leaned over the table, eyes alight with curiosity. “What did Sasha say? She returned your feelings, right?”

“Um.” Niccolo brought a hand to his neck, rubbing the back of it. “I didn’t do it, didn’t, eh, confess. Yet.”

“And when—”

“Today,” he said, confidence returning to his voice. “I planned a dinner for Sasha, invited her family and friends. Actually… I wanted to invite you as well.”

Despite regret that spread through her, Hange curled her lips in a comforting, gentle smile. “Not the best idea, but I appreciate the thought. And,” she added, her smile turning into a cheeky grin. “I’ll be expecting another visit from you, where you’ll share all the details.”

Hange wished she could see it for herself – Niccolo standing before Sasha red in the face, stuttering his undoubtedly sweet confession, Sasha gasping, with her mouth opening in shock, their audience watching it all with a mix of mortification and amusement. Hange wished she could have the privilege of being the part of that audience, alongside a certain Captain, who would cringe horribly at the scene, unfolding before their eyes.

Hange wished— for many things. Alas…

“I’m sure your plan will work out perfectly, but just in case,” Hange winked, snickering, when she saw red spread through Niccolo’s cheeks. “Good luck.”

“Knowing Sasha’s friends… I’ll need all the luck I can get. But for now, I also need to get going, the dinner won’t prepare itself. So thank you once again.” Niccolo stood up, bowing his head. “For everything.”

“Make Sasha happy, that’s all the thanks I need.”

Niccolo nodded, showing her a smile. He headed to the door, and just before he left the room, Hange gave him thumbs up, wishing him luck once more.

As the door behind him closed, she slumped back in the chair and continued munching on her breakfast, a blissful expression appearing on her face.

So… not only a great cook, but also a romantic? Sasha was such a lucky girl.

___

Her next visitors were just as unexpected, and their conversation - a lot less pleasant. It was in that moment that Hange started to suspect that this day would take its rightful place in the collection of her awful ones. But she was far from knowing just how horrible it had the potential to become.

The moment that Armin tumbled inside the room without knocking, throwing the door open in his haste, and Mikasa trailed after him, her pace much slower but just as unsure, dread settled in Hange's stomach.

"Hange-san!" Armin was speaking in a quiet, but barely controlled voice. His chest moved rapidly, as he struggled to keep his breathing slow and even. Hange swallowed her worry, her thoughts running at a lighting speed. What could possibly have happened to make him so panicked? She chanced a look at Mikasa - the young girl wore the same guarded expression she always did, but her eyes kept shifting from side to side, hands clasped together tight enough to make her knuckles white. "We need to talk."

Hange gave them a cautious nod and stood up from the bed, the book she was reading moments ago all but forgotten now. Pieck's warning was loud in her mind, as her fear grew. Marley... they couldn't have attacked so swiftly, right?

Hange gestured for her guests to take their seats at the table that stood near the window. Absentmindedly, she wondered where Moblit was. He didn't show his face to her even once this day. What could he be so busy with?

"Your guard told us that you had a visitor today," Armin stiffly began. "Mind telling us who that was?"

Hange frowned, cocking her head to the side. If the guard told Armin about the visitor, didn't she also mention that it was Niccolo? The cooking boy had to be known around the barracks, if he was that close to Sasha.

"Niccolo came by, he wanted—"

"You mean, Marleyan came by." Armin corrected.

"Sasha's and your friend, if I understood properly," Hange protested.

"But he's Marleyan. Just like you."

So, Armin was accusing her. And not only her, but Niccolo too. Accusing them of conspiring, but for what purpose? By which means? Against who? Hange was so confused. Hange didn't understand. Armin was always so rational, so coolheaded. What could possibly make him so frantic? What drove him to such desperation, to such wild guesses?

"Armin..." any other time, with any other person who trusted her just a fraction more, Hange would have taken their hand in hers. She'd caress it gently, try to calm them down, but in Armin's state... Hange worried that it'd make matters even worse. "Armin," she repeated, lowering her voice ever so slightly, making it sound more trustworthy. "What happened?"

Armin didn't answer, lowering his eyes - in shame or indecisiveness, Hange couldn't guess. And so Mikasa took the word.

"Chief Zacklay is dead," she said. And if that wasn't mind-blowing enough, she added, "Eren escaped from the prison."

"Fuck."

What else was there to say? Everything was turned on its head - Paradis' biggest defender seemingly had gone completely off the rails. Hange wondered if the threat of Marley invasion was still the scariest crisis the island would have to face. The absence of the clear answer was… unnerving.

“We don’t know what to do, or where to look for Eren. That’s why… Armin hopes that you’ll shed some light on that.”

Armin hopes – an interesting choice of words. He didn’t think, didn’t speculate, didn’t hypothesize. He hoped – exhibited a desperate, illogical kind of feeling. So… it was that bad, huh?

“I know nothing about it.” Hange said truthfully. “As you’re aware I’m not even allowed to leave this room.”

“We know.” Mikasa agreed softly, pressing her hand to Armin’s. “But it’s hard to come to terms with it.”

“He is your friend.”

Hange didn’t understand what they were going through, she never had someone that close to her destroy the trust between them, but she knew it wasn’t easy. Eren had changed, Eren had already lied to them once, but he was their friend, they’ve spent years, believing him and in him. They couldn’t change their opinion of him in just one night, they couldn’t let a few mistakes kill what they had created over the course of their lives.

She couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how her friends felt. Was it just as hard to believe in her betrayal? Did Moblit and Levi feel just as lost and unsure? Were they just as desperate to come up with a reason for her behavior? Whatever they did, whatever they felt, Hange hoped she would never have to learn about it. She was miserable enough as it was.

But Eren knew what his friends were going through, had to be aware of the consequences of his actions, of what he was doing to his friends, how much he was hurting them. What drove him to his decision then? What happened to the boy with bright eyes and big heart?

“Do you have any idea what Eren is going to do?”

“I don’t think it’s Eren’s doing, Zeke is probably lying to him, but…” his eyes were still cast down, his finger weakly tracing some vague shapes, when Armin muttered, “Hange-san… do you by any chance know what rumbling is?”

Hange froze. Her throat constricted acutely, creating a quiet, choking sound. For one second, one terrifying second her heart stopped, ceasing its usual rhythm.

Rumbling? Did she hear correctly? Was Armin speaking the truth, did he mean what Hange was worried he meant?

Rumbling.

A short, but scary word. One that was mentioned in but a few frowned upon books. One that was only whispered amongst the members of Titan Society, too horrifying to speak it loud and clear. The word that meant death, the end of everything they knew about their world.

“We were meant to experiment with it,” Armin explained, wriggling his hands. “Nothing too serious, nothing too… devastating. Just a showcase of the power we yield, to keep the other nations on their toes. To keep them away from us. But ever since Zeke had appeared, Eren became so…”

Even since Zeke had appeared, Eren had decided to act on his own, distanced himself from his comrades and friends, joined forces with his brother. Hange would have believed, would have been convinced that the boy she once knew was incapable of such cruelty…

But Liberio, the heart of her homeland was standing in ruins. And it was Eren’s doing.

She narrowed her eyes, gave a scrutinizing look first to Armin, then to Mikasa. Hange really, really hoped that she was wrong. Against all sense, she hoped that they would drive away her doubts, that Eren’s closest friends knew him much more intimately than she ever could, that their opinion of him was right and just.

“Do you think he is capable of proceeding with it?”

“No,” Armin answered.

And the same time Mikasa said, “Yes.”

Yes, said the girl, who was in love with Eren, who was devoted to him above anything or anyone else. She said yes, spoke it quietly, in pained voice. But without a shadow of a doubt.

Hange shuddered.

She— they had to stop this. Somehow. Anyhow. Before it was too late.

"Eren can't activate the rumbling on his own," Hange mused out loud, biting at her thumb.

"Right," Armin confirmed. "He needs the bearer of the royal blood."

And that was good, that meant not all hope was lost. To go through with the rumbling, Eren had to find Zeke, and Zeke was out in the woods with Levi. He would never get away from Levi, and so the world was safe, but—

Zeke wasn't the only one with special blood. There was also—

Fuck.

"Historia, where is she?"

Armin's eyes widened, a gasp escaping him as he came to the same conclusion as Hange. "She arrived in the town... This morning."

And that was the morning Eren decided to make his escape. Hardly a coincidence.

"You don't think..." Armin began tentatively, his eyes pleading Hange to say that it was a joke, that she was wrong in her assumptions. She wished she could give him that reassurance.

"I don't know."

She didn't know what Eren's plan was, what was his goal, what was Zeke’s role in all of this. She didn't know what means Eren would use to ensure his success.

Would he go to his brother, would he trust him enough? Or would he go to Historia and risk hurting his friend?

And how Eren would get to them? Both Zeke and Historia were heavily guarded - Zeke as the hostage, Historia as a Queen and a future mother. But who was the easiest target?

With Levi being in charge of Zeke, Historia was an obvious choice, unless—

Hange swallowed heavily.

Unless Zeke was planning something too - some rouse, or a play, something that would fool Levi, make him lose his focus.

Make him lose Zeke.

And if that worked—

"Where is Historia?" Hange repeated that question. Hidden in the forest, theoretically, Levi was safe. He could hold his own in a fight against Zeke, Hange has seen him do just that in Liberio, even if some part of it was a spectacle. She also had seen Zeke after Shiganshina, personally tended to his wounds that refused to heal properly because of the amount of his injuries. Back then, every hiss of his was like a melody to Hange, a miniscule payback for the carnage he had born.

Zeke was far away from Eren, guarded by Levi. Hange had to trust him with that task. She had to hold onto hope that Levi would be safe. But Historia... Historia was another matter. She was here, close, and as good as her security was, they were not on par with humanity's strongest. They had to protect the Queen first.

"Historia chose this day to arrive because of Niccolo's invitation. She's probably in his restaurant, along with the others." Mikasa said.

So she wasn't alone, surrounded by soldiers and friends. Would that be enough to hold off Eren? Possibly, although, Hange wasn't sure.

But Eren was not alone, he had followers, the ones Moblit was so worried about. Would they be just as amicable? Would they not hurt the ones Eren cared so much about?

"Historia is our main priority. We have to go to the restaurant and make sure that—"

"We?" Armin interrupted.

Hange deflated. Of course, how could she forget? She wasn't their superior, their commander, their friend. There was no we. She was an outsider. She always were.

"I didn't mean to—"

"No." Mikasa curtly said. "We need you, Hange-san. We do," she repeated to Armin, who was already opening his mouth with a protest on his tongue. "We need all the help that we can get."

Armin studied Mikasa for a moment, then turned to face Hange, regarding her pensively. The intense look of his big blue eyes was unnerving, almost impossible to hold without flinching. There was a man Hange once knew with the same intent gaze. Oh, how she wished to see him again. He'd know what to do in a shitty ordeal they were facing right now.

"You're right," Armin sighed at last. "We might not have same goals or even enemies... but our concerns align. With you on our side, our chances are much higher. So, Hange Zoe," Armin offered his hand for a handshake. "Will you help us?"

An unlikely alliance then, huh? Hange could work with that.

She shook his hand with a smile.

___

Something was turning, twisting inside Hange on the way to the restaurant. Even the air seemed stiff, the landscape outside of the carriage bright, pretty but ominous all the same. Liberio - her city - looked just as lively before it got crushed.

And today, right now, she couldn't get that image out of her mind. The streets she walked through hundreds, thousands of times; bakeries she visited day after day; parks and playgrounds she admired from afar - everything was now gone, turned into debris, into nothing but broken stone and crushed glass.

And all of it - all the destruction, pain and blood and death - all of it was a courtesy of one Eren Yeager, the boy with bright eyes and passionate soul.

Would the same thing happen to another city? To all the cities in the world? To hundreds and millions of—

Hange took a deep breath, stopping herself before she screamed in fury, ripped something apart, overturned the carriage, or worse - started crying.

No. Nothing of the sort would happen to the other countries or their people. They would stop this— this catastrophe and Eren, and Zeke, and whoever else was involved. They would not allow another tragedy.

In the meanwhile, Hange did her damnest to focus on small, trivial things - the inside of the carriage, the bumps on the road, the subtle similarities between Mikasa and Levi, the sunbeam playing across Armin's face - anything to keep her mind from other, much scarier things. It didn’t really work.

"We are here," Armin announced, cutting through her morbid thoughts. He put a hand on her elbow - a tentative, but heartfelt gesture. Hange wondered just how disturbed she must have seemed to earn it.

"Let's go," she shook off all the worries, all of her fears. They weren't needed. They would slow her down, serve as a distraction, nuisance. And today, she had to be on her best. "We have no time to spare."

Mikasa and Armin seemed to be of the same opinion, and so the three of them left the carriage and started moving towards restaurant's entrance.

The place was much bigger than Hange had imagined it to be. She expected to see something small, but snug, something homely. But Niccolo's restaurant was grander than most buildings on Paradis. It didn't quite reach the luxurious and exquisite nature of restaurants in Marley, but— clearly, that was Niccolo's inspiration.

The restaurant - as big as it was - was packed, the merry sounds of laughter were heard even from the courtyard. People were celebrating, people came here to have some fun. Hange knew just how rare those instances were. And she hated being the one to put a stop to it. But she'd rather ruin someone's day and be wrong about her assumption or ruin someone's say and be right, than— Than not ruin someone's day, be right and waste precious time.

The three of them walked through the dark brown door, and instantly Niccolo stood in front of them, appearing seemingly out of thin air.

"Armin, Mikasa! I didn't think you'd make it! And you brought Hange with you!”

The happiness on his face was so endearing, so genuine. Hange was wrecked with sympathy for him. Niccolo was just a boy, who loved a girl, and decided that today of all days he'd make his feelings known. Unfortunately, the day he had picked turned out to be one of Hange's bad ones.

"Congratulations once again," Hange made sure to put on an extra gentle smile, in vain hope that it would soothe the effect of her next words. "But that's not why we are here."

"No?" the happiness was gone from Niccolo's face, suspicion overtaking it, but only for a second. Next came anger. "I thought we were over this," he leveled, glaring at Armin. "I thought we've already discussed everything you wanted. And I'm not going to deal with this bullshit again. Not today."

Niccolo whirled around, his leg raised to, no doubt, dramatically storm out. Mikasa's gravelly voice and a tight grip on his wrist stopped him. "If you don't want to ruin this day for Sasha, then take us to Queen Historia. Right now."

Oh. Even Hange felt shivers at that tone of voice, and the threat wasn't even directed at her. Was Levi teaching her his tricks? Or was every Ackerman just naturally good at being so scary?

Niccolo yanked his hand out of Mikasa's grasp, massaging it with a wounded expression. He didn't try to argue once again, though. And soon Hange, Armin and Mikasa were following after him to the banquet hall.

He took them through the lengthy hallway, past kitchen and washing room. At the edge of it, Hange could see two familiar figures - one tall, another short. They were standing next to a wooden cupboard, snickering quietly to each other. As they came closer, Hange realized that Jean and Connie were holding several bottles of wine, clearly having trouble choosing which one to open.

"Niccolo!" Connie yelled out, waving the bottles over his head. "Which one is better?"

"That's not for you, you idiots!" Niccolo snatched the bottles from their hands, his retort vicious— and more shaken than the situation truly called for. Any other day, Hange would have found it weird, would have paid more attention to it. Any day, but not during her bad day.

So she shrugged it off and after giving Jean and Connie a painfully awkward wave, continued following after Niccolo.

Once they were inside, Hange couldn't help but marvel at the amount of people gathered. There were lots of civilians, none of which Hange could recognize. And among them, there was a sea of green, representing the members of Survey Corps. Most of these faces were known to her. One of those faces in particular swiftly left the conversation he was having, gluing himself to her side.

"Hange-san? Armin? What is going on?"

Moblit had his mouth open, his eyes shifting between the three of them. Hange didn't know what he had seen there, what face she was making, but Moblit didn't ask another question, silently falling in step with them.

Sensing the change in the room, Jean and Connie hurried to do the same.

They all stopped in front of the table in the corner - one near the window and with a nice bouquet standing on it. The table was occupied by two - giggling Sasha, who was retelling some story in a rather animated fashion, and Historia, who listened to her friend with a joyful smile.

Looking at her, Hange couldn't help but be amazed. Last time she saw the girl, she had just become a Queen, still doubtful and unsure in her position. And, although, the woman before her eyes didn't look exactly royally – what, with her simple dress and long, loose hair - but Historia had certainly grown, become tougher, more confident in her abilities. However, she was still as pretty as a picture, and the motherhood had enhanced her beauty even further.

"Your Majesty," Hange was the first to take the word, but after that she faltered, not sure how to proceed further. Should she bow? Kneel before the Queen?

She was spared from making that decision. Because right in that moment, right when she was meaning to open her mouth and explain everything to Historia as curtly as was possible— her day turned from simply bad to straight up shitty.

"You!"

Familiar voice. The anger in it wasn't unusual too. Never before it was directed at her but—

Hange recognized the pride of Marley, the future Warrior right away. It was all she was allowed to do before getting promptly tackled to the ground.

"Traitor! Liar! How could you do that to us! How could you side with the devils?"

Gabi kicked and punched anything she could reach, accentuating her every word and accusation, but the blows were barely registered by Hange. She felt no pain, only huge amount of relief.

Gabi was furious, Gabi was loud. Gabi was alive and well.

A month, a whole month she spent worrying about these kids, only to have fate throw them back together in the most ludicrous way possible.

“Gabi,” despite her kicks, despite her loud shrieks, Hange smiled happily. She pulled the girl closer, wrapping one arm around her, while her other went to softly brush the girl’s hair. “Gabi, are you alright? You’re not hurt?”

“And why would you care?” Gabi suddenly sniffled, voice muffled by Hange’s shirt. “You never cared about us, did you? Only about those devils!”

“Gabi…” Hange sighed, finding herself at a loss of words. How could she explain something so complicated? Something she couldn’t understand herself?

Luckily, an unexpected help arrived.

"Don’t judge too harshly, child. You may not understand it yet, but humans' hearts are tricky things. No rules apply to them, they never listen to reason. They don't act like we want them to. They create emotions, make our lives brighter, and at the same time... So much more confusing. And accusing someone of caring for the wrong person… it’s just not right."

Hange looked up, surprised to see a middle-aged man standing before her. She was fairly sure that she had never met him before, but his eyes, his manner of speaking... Somehow, they were familiar.

Before she could connect the dots, however, her attention was ripped away once more, this time by Niccolo's deep voice.

"Eldians, Marleyans," he scoffed. "All of us are vile, devil is in each and every one of us. We're all imperfect, but all of us yearn to find the place where we belong, where we're loved. We don't choose who these people would be, we love others for what they are, not what they represent, or what side of the conflict they come from. And if loving my enemy is treason, I’ll gladly go down as a traitor."

Niccolo glanced back, meeting the eyes of the one he had dedicated this speech to. Hange caught Sasha’s bewildered, loving look and smiled, feeling her eyes go misty.

So, Marleyan and Eldian? Was a union like that even possible? Four years ago, on the dawn of the day when she left the one she loved the most behind, she'd say that it would never work out. But... times were changing, right? For the better, or so, at least, Hange hoped.

"Hange-san..." Moblit crouched beside her, painfully awkward. "Erm..."

Oh right. Only now, Hange realized that she was still lying on the floor. And that in on itself wasn't so unusual, but most of the times... she didn't have a ten or so pairs of eyes watching her.

Hange cleared her throat. Then, as absurdity of the situation caught up with her, snickered quietly.

"Hey, Gab," she stroked the girl's side. "Would you mind letting me get up?"

Gabi rose on her elbows, considering Hange. The frown on her face didn't vanish, but— her eyes weren't so full of rage anymore - clearly, the speeches had left an impression on her.

"I'm still mad at you," she said, lip stuck out petulantly. "But... I'm glad that you're here. Because it means they're coming for us, right? Commander Magath and Reiner— Reiner will save us, right? We just need to wait for a little longer, until they arrive."

They're already here, Hange wanted to say. If Pieck came, there was no way that Reiner would want to sit that one out— or be allowed to, anyway. Marley was coming, their guns blazing. But in the room full of members of the Survey Corps and Queen herself, Hange couldn’t say that, wasn’t yet ready to betray her country like that. She could only kiss Gabi's brow and promise, "You will be alright."

Reassured, Gabi nodded and let Hange get up. As soon as her feet had touched the ground, Hange found herself with someone once again wrapped around her. This time, however, the embrace was that much warmer and a lot less violent.

"Falco," she carded her fingers through his sandy blonde hair. "I take it you've missed me too?"

"You can't imagine," he spoke, his face pressed to her stomach. "Going on missions with Gabi is a torture! I could barely keep up with her!"

"You'll learn with time," Hange looked back, exchanging a look with Moblit. "It's not that hard to deal with annoying shits like us, right, Mob?"

He tugged at his collar, strategically evading her curious eyes. "Perhaps, after a very long while..." he reached out, patting Falco's shoulder. "And with the help of a good alcohol stash."

"Oi!" Hange slapped his arm. "He's only a kid!"

Moblit shrugged. "He has to know what is waiting for him."

"Don't listen to him," she gently consoled Falco. "He's joking."

Although... Hange had to agree with Moblit on that. If Falco continues running after Gabi like that, he'd have his first grey hair by the age of fifteen.

With the boy still clinging to her, Hange surveyed the room, swiping her gaze across Sasha and Niccolo, who stood side by side, wearing identical, enamored expressions, to Connie and Jean, who were whispering something to one another, and finally to Mikasa and Armin, who hid Historia behind their backs.

Right. She didn't come here for a cheerful reunion. The fate of the world was at stake. Hange pulled herself together and— pulled Falco away from her.

"Sorry, dear," she fondly ruffled his hair once again. "I need to go now, but I'll get back to you."

Could she do, though? Could she return to these kids, ask them to be placed under her care? Should she do it, considering that she didn't even know what was going to happen to her, where would she be one hour from now? Was it wise then to drag kids along with her? They were sharp and strong, more than capable, and they did survive on their own for so long— wait.

How did they manage to survive on a foreign soil, all by themselves? And why they were here today, in Niccolo's restaurant of all places?

"I guess these ducklings are yours?"

Oh. The familiar man that Hange had never seen was back, now standing in front of Hange, showing her a kind smile.

"We haven't been introduced, but it's hard to mistake you for someone else. Hange Zoe, right?"

"Right," Hange shook his warm, calloused hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Braus."

"The accent was a dead giveaway, huh?" he laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He had a nice laugh, Hange decided, deep, heartfelt and genuine. She liked Mr. Braus, just as much as she liked his daughter.

"I understand that you're the one who had taken care of my ducklings," Hange giggled, catching Gabi's very much unamused look. "Thank you for that."

"And thank you for saving my daughter's life. For that deed I could never repay you."

"That was... that was nothing. I did nothing, just happened to be in the right place, in the right time."

"It's only because of you that we're here, celebrating, instead of mourning. So," he gripped her shoulder tightly, his brown eyes staring into hers intently. "Let me express my gratitude, for that is the smallest thing that I can do."

"I think," Connie inserted himself between them, his mischievous smile lighting up the room. "This calls for a toast!"

No more than a second later, Jean had produced a bottle of wine, opening it swiftly and skillfully. Once the bottle was dealt with, he filled a glass with wine, thrusting it to the person standing closest to him. Which— happened to be Gabi.

She took all but a tentative sniff from the glass, before it was roughly yanked out of her hands. The drink splashed everywhere as Falco hurried to finish it, before Gabi caught up and took it away from him.

There was just as a couple of droplets left, everyone watched the scene in amusement, until—

Until Niccolo screamed.

He pounced from his place, wrestling the bottle out of Jean’s hands. “It’s not for you, morons! I told you not to touch it!”

Ice spread through Hange’s veins, as she heard the desperation in his voice. If her first thought was the right one… she had to make sure of it immediately.

“Who that wine was meant for?” she seethed, grabbing Niccolo by lapels of his shirt, suffocating him in her white-knuckled grip and currently not caring about it. Everyone in the room tensed, Sasha jumping closer to them, but Hange didn’t care, ignored all of them completely. “Who that wine was meant for?” she shouted, shaking the boy like a ragdoll.

“F-for the military officials! It’s the good stuff, expensive, it was meant only for them!”

The good stuff, the best one they got, Hange reasoned. The next question was pointless, she knew the answer already, was the one who came up with this idea in the first place, but— Niccolo was a good guy, a sweet boy in love with a kind girl. Hange wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“What’s wrong with the wine?”

And that was it. That’s all she had to do to get to the bottom of it. One short, simple question, and Niccolo crumbled. He didn’t try to fight her, made no attempts to protect himself. He hanged his head in shame, avoiding the dozen pairs of eyes that now were boring into him.

“They made me do it,” he whispered, his hands, his lips— his whole body shaking. “I had no choice, you wouldn’t understand—”

Oh, but Hange did understand. Better than Niccolo knew. She knew how it felt to be forced to follow the current, accept every cruel tide. She knew just how frustrating, how painful it was to lose control.

So yeah, Hange understood. But she could not excuse.

However, she had no place to judge as well, she herself was a reason for so many tragedies and disasters. She couldn’t judge, and she didn’t have the time for it. The deed was already done, now they had to try and undo it.

“Who gave you the orders?”

The spine fluid, injected into wine, came from Zeke, that Hange had no doubt about, but Zeke was far away, deep in the forest, under Levi’s watchful eyes. So who had redistributed the wine? Who was the betrayer, the real culprit?

“It’s—”

He didn’t get to finish. For only now Hange had realized what had happened moments prior. Falco drank the wine. Falco. Drank. The. Wine.

Her heart thumping, Hange pushed Niccolo away, grabbing Falco’s hand instead. Armin, Mikasa, the Queen, let someone else deal with that shit, for now she had to try and delay the inevitable. She looked around, her eyes wild, mind racing. “Where— where is the bathroom or— or a—”

“I’ll show you.”

It was Moblit’s quiet, reassuring voice. He gripped her elbow gently, taking her away. Hange let herself be led, rubbing soothing circles into Falco’s palm all the while. She didn’t know what do, wasn’t even sure that spinal fluid can be taken out of someone’s system, but she’d be damned if she wouldn’t at least try. Falco, sweet, smart Falco, he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be turned into a Titan, a mindless creature with no loyalties and feelings. Hange wouldn’t allow it, she was ready to do the impossible and then more to save the little boy.

Once they reached the bathroom, Hange set out to work - took off her coat, rolled the sleeves of her shirt, sat Falco down on a stool, pushed his head under the faucet, instructed him to try and rinse all the wine out.

It was possibly entirely pointless, Hange was pretty sure of it— but. What else could she do? Sit tightly and wait for the young life to vanish?

"That thing in the wine..." Moblit spoke up - calmly, but defeated, as though he had already surrendered to whatever tragedy that would befall him. "It's bad, isn't it?"

Hange tensed. Hange jumped to her feet, fisting her hand into Moblit's shirt so desperately, the fabric creaked in protest.

"Moblit," she croaked, her voice shaking, broken, eyes begging him to say that he was joking, that his inquiry was simple curiosity. "Moblit, did you drink that wine?"

"It was served at every government meeting. I couldn't refuse."

No. No. Hange couldn't believe, didn't want to believe it, Moblit— not Moblit, she didn't want him to fall victim to this, become another casualty in her long, extremely bloody career. Anyone else, but not— not him.

"It's the same tactic we used in Ragako village," she explained numbly. "Back then it was gas, this time the fluid that turns people into Titans was added into wine. It activates after Zeke screams."

"Ah," Moblit shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. "If - when - I turn, you could experiment on me. Just— don't give me a stupid name like Sawney or Bean, I'd like, I think, I'd like to be called Moblit. If I'd still have some semblance of consciousness by that time, if not - you can call me whatever you—"

"Shut up." Hange choked, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She ignored them, glaring fiercely at him. "Shut the fuck up, Moblit, you will not turn into a Titan, I will not allow it, I'll do whatever I can—"

"Hange-san," he smiled, and it broke her heart. "It will be okay."

It won't. Because it was her damn creation, made to defeat faceless, unknown enemies. And now it was used against people she cared about.

She had to do something about it. With a start Hange realized that the solution was... fairly easy.

"Avoid Zeke at all costs." She told Moblit, urgency turning her speech more frantic. "Don't go near him, try— try to get away if he gets into city—"

But Zeke couldn't get into the city. Zeke couldn't get out of the forest at all, couldn't make a single move without Levi knowing it.

Levi was the solution. He would keep Zeke under his guard, he would keep Moblit, and the rest of them, safe. Hange finally could take a breath.

But the calm didn't last for long.

As soon as she returned to Falco's side to check on the boy's condition, a loud crash came from somewhere deep within the restaurant. Hange heard the sound of hurried footsteps, then a concerning scream.

She exchanged a look with Moblit. Both of them started running at the same moment.

When they tumbled inside the main room, they froze in shock.

Sasha's family, members of Survey Corps and among them— soldiers with rifles. Hange scanned the room once more, her eyes travelling further, to the table by the window. She breathed out in relief - Historia was guarded by Connie and Jean. At least, the Queen was safe.

But not the rest of them.

"Squad Leader Moblit," the ginger head took a step towards them, a too wide smile plastered on his face. Hange didn't like that man and his smile. And the gun in his hands. The gun that was now aimed at the ceiling but could be very well aimed at Moblit, or anyone else in that room. “You’re the one I need.”

Moblit inched closer too, his chin held high and eyes defiant. Hange didn’t miss the fact that his movement hid her behind his broad shoulders. Oh, loyal, caring Moblit. How could she leave him to his fate?

“I’m here,” he leveled to the redhead. “What do you need me for, Floch?”

If it wasn’t for the gun in his hands, or the smile on his face, the way Moblit spelled his name – the obvious aversion, unhidden contempt was enough for Hange to understand that this Floch guy wasn’t very nice. And, despite the Wings of Freedom on his back, he certainly wasn’t Moblit’s friend.

So. That was one of the famed Yeagerists? And the rest of them, the ones that held civilians on gunpoint were the part of the same group? Hange was so not impressed.

“You’re buddies with Captain Levi,” Floch continued. “That means you know exactly where he is hiding.”

“Perhaps.” Moblit nodded. “But what makes you think that I will tell you?”

Floch’s smile grew, and the gun that was held lazily in his hand, pointing at the empty air, moved. It was lowered down, its barrel now staring right at Moblit. But the gun didn’t stop there, it moved again, shifting just a little to the side. To where Hange was standing.

“Hange Zoe, right?” Floch tilted his head, so he could look straight at her. “I didn’t have the pleasure to make your acquaintance before, but I’m glad that life threw us all together. Especially now, for you see…” he lifted a hand, and a soldier took his place, his rifle raised, while Floch paced from side to side. “I’m not allowed to hurt them,” first he pointed at Jean and Connie. “Or her,” now at Historia. “I’m, however, allowed to do with the others whatever I want. And since hurting our dear Squad Leader Moblit wouldn’t bear the needed results…” he spread his arms, shrugging helplessly. “No one would miss a traitor, right?”

“Don’t you dare!” Moblit surged forward, shoulders shaking from the unbridled fury. But he made no more than a few steps, before he was immobilized, two soldiers coming from behind to grab his arms and twist them painfully. Moblit didn’t back up even then, continuing his fierce resistance. “Leave her out of this!”

“Ah, yes,” Floch chuckled to himself, observing Moblit’s struggling with morbid fascination. “The luck is surely on our side today. You will be useful after all, Hange Zoe. We will take you with us.”

No sooner than these words left his mouth, Hange felt a pair of hands around her, subduing and enabling to make a single move. She thrashed, she kicked, but to no avail.

“Floch—” Moblit grounded, pulling on his restraints.

“Don’t you worry,” Floch squeezed Moblit’s shoulder, showing him a look of feigned affection. “No one is going to get hurt, if you cooperate.”

No. They couldn’t cooperate. Cooperating meant leading Floch and his bunch to Zeke, and that meant leading them to Levi.

“Mob! Don’t listen to him! We can’t–” instinctively, momentarily forgetting about the arms that held her down, Hange reached out to him, trying to catch his eyes.

But Moblit turned his face to the other side, avoiding her gaze. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I can’t let you get hurt.”

Ah. Hange’s heart sunk, while Floch clasped his hands in delight.

“I’m glad you’ve made the right choice! And now,” he raised a finger, and Hange with Moblit were forced to move forward. “Let’s get going!”

___

Outside, the weather changed. The sun hid behind the heavy, grey clouds, the rain was now steadily falling down, creating puddles under their feet.

The gloomy weather further enhanced the trepidation inside Hange. The feeling, the certainty that something was going to get very wrong and very fast persisted, forcing her to grab the reins of the horse tighter, in vain hope of providing some miniscule outlet to her ever growing anxiety.

Despite the fear, Hange spurred her horse forward, doing her best to ignore the rifles pointed at her back. It was proving to be quite a vexing task, when the said rifles kept pushing her to move even faster but— it wasn’t the worst situation Hange had found herself in. That time when she and Zeke were captured by the enemy forces and put inside a fortified prison was so much worse. The prison had anti-Titan artillery surround the perimeter, they were alone and cut off from their allies. And still they managed to escape. Compared to that, a few Yeagerists were nothing.

Although, Hange had to admit – the stories did them no justice. In reality they were a lot more vile and disgusting.

But, apparently, Levi still trained some of them. And, boy, did he teach them well. One soldier behind Hange kept huffing, cursing the weather under his breath. Hange waited, and when he once again got distracted by the mud that splashed on his boot, she thanked Levi for his absurd obsession with cleanliness and acted, stealing that little moment for herself.

“Hey,” she leaned closer to Moblit who was riding right beside her, and whispered to him in a voice just slightly louder than the sound of the rain. “Remember that thing we did during Erwin’s coup-d'etat?”

Moblit winced, anxiety reflecting in his eyes. “When we punched people that were armed with rifles?”

Hange grinned. Atta boy, of course, he remembered. “I’ll give you a signal,” she nodded discreetly and returned to her previous position, now directing all of her attention on their fearless, redheaded leader.

“So Zeke is your main goal, right? You don’t actually need Historia?”

Floch scoffed, rising his nose up in distain. “The Queen is a back-up plan.” Wow, getting information out of them was that easy? Some devoted followers they were. Hange continued listening, eager to know what else Floch would reveal. “We’re not sure what exactly is going to happen, and Eren… doesn’t like hurting his friends.”

They weren’t sure what was going to happen. Only for these words Hange was ready to throttle each and one of them. What was going to happen? Mass destruction and death, a lot of unnecessary deaths.

But did these children care? Of course, they didn’t.

And would Zeke care about it? Hange wasn’t sure. Zeke was many things – cruel, violent, heartless, he never cared that much about other people. However, he was his father’s son, and, as much as he had loathed Grisha Yeager, Zeke still carried around the hero complex that his father fought so hard to plant inside him. Was it possible then that Zeke would be against the rumbling? Was it possible that he didn’t know of Eren’s true intention, that he blindly trusted his little brother?

Was it possible that their goals didn’t align? If so… then Zeke was a key player in this game of chess. He was a powerful figure they had to get on their side. If Hange could talk to him—

A loud sound, a crashing bang interrupted the flow of her thoughts, making her jump in the saddle.

That noise, it was similar to a thunder, but not quite. Hange knew that sound all too well, was the one who created the devise that was activated with the very same sound.

It couldn’t be— that noise couldn’t come from a thunder spear explosion. But… what other explanation was there?

“Let’s head there!” Floch commanded. “Something must have happened.”

Hange’s heart raced as they inched closer and closer to the place where the sound had come from. It wasn’t hard to find, the gory sight of the poor, wounded horse and the blasted cart was easy to spot.

They approached it slowly, and suddenly Hange froze, her eyes landing on something near the riverbank. Something that looked a lot like a body – a short one with strong stature and black hair—

“Moblit,” she whispered, begging him to clear her suspicions, to reassure her that she was mistaken.

But Moblit pursed his lips, and shook his head – brief, but resolute.

For a second, Hange froze, overcome with desperation and fear. Her heart stopped too, if just for a moment.

Levi, he couldn’t— but what if he did?

Ignoring the insistent shouts and strict orders to come back, Hange jumped off the horse, scrambling to get closer to the riverbank and to him.

She fell into the mud, uncaring of her clothes, of the mud she was splashing around. She felt nothing, the rain, the river, her captors, it all faded into background. She cared for nothing else, except the limp body in her hands.

Oh, please, please, please.

Her hands trembled as she turned the body to face her, careful as she could be. A bloody mess, her personal nightmare stared right back to her.

And in that moment— Hange felt her heart break, ripping, shuttering into thousands pieces. She thought she knew loss before, she thought she knew what pain was.

She was so wrong.

[systlinsideblog]

Part 4

I still lived. 

I was, I thought, greatly in the minority. The woman Systlin had judged warrior after warrior, and warrior after warrior had met his end at a quiva's blade. 

A great many of the sentences were carried out by the hands of the freed slave girls of the warriors. The number of these astounded me, as did the ferocity with which many of the girls fell upon their masters. 

It is a Gorean saying that a woman cannot be free until she has been a slave. It is said that a woman wishes to be conquered, that she cannot respect any man save for the man who can reduce her to nothing. 

The girls fell upon their masters with a fury I have rarely seen, and blood flowed until the grass was slick and red with it. 

A few girls did not take up the quiva. These men, once sentence of death was passed, the she-sleen on the Ubar's robe killed herself. Her face was untroubled by this, unworried, and there was even a hint of vicious pleasure in those cold eyes as she swung the sword to remove their heads.

Those warriors who had taken Free Companions and who had children, the she-sleen ordered all material goods be split equally between the  Free Companions, the children, and the freed slave girls. There were many sour faces among the Tuchuk women at that, but to my shock many more who accepted it without question. 

When night neared, scarce three dozen warriors of the Tuchuk still lived, myself included. It was us and only us who had not admitted to owning slaves, and who had no slaves to call out our names. 

A very few men..two or three, in all...had been spared by the request of their slave girls. These men were whipped, and the she-sleen commanded ash be rubbed into the whip wounds. 

"I would have them remember." She had said, eyes cold and face passionless, even as the warriors held back cries of pain. "I want them to remember their crimes, and to remember me." 

Those of us who had survived the slaughter had been unchained and taken to wagons, and allowed to eat and rest. 

"So." Kamchak had survived the culling, and his face was set and cold. "We are free, then?"

"You are not slaves." Systlin had smiled a little, a cold smile that did not reach her eyes. "But if you seek to flee, or to move against me...well." 

Behind her, I could see women chaining hunting sleen outside the wagons. Each was given clothing to smell; I noticed with a start a discarded tunic of my own among the items. The sleen began to pull and hiss, eyes bright. 

"Say, rather, that you are prisoners for the time." Systlin continued. "I've much to do, and I've no time to be worrying about one of you burying a knife in my back in my sleep." Another humorless smile. "I'm not fool enough to think that all...or any...of you are paragons of virtue. I'll get the truth in time."

Kamchak spat. "You," he informed her, "Are the most disagreeable and wrenched wench I've ever had the misfortune to meet. There will come a day, where you meet a man to bring you to heel." A smile. "I wish to be there to see it."

I felt my heart sink; they were unwise words, but then Kamchak was Tuchuk. 

To my surprise, the woman Systlin threw back her head and laughed, as if at a wonderful joke. 

"Ahhh!" She wiped tears from her eyes at last, as I stared, stunned. "When I find my way home, I will tell Foicatch that." Another laugh. "A woman isn't brought to heel. We can choose to be a partner, or to bide our time and pretend until the time is right, but brought to heel? HA! You saw that, I think, today." Another terrible grin. "I saw your faces, when the women turned on your warriors. You did not expect that, did you?"

"Foicatch?" Kamchak, ever keen, inquired. 

"My husband." Systlin said this lightly, easily. "Father of my daughter."

"Good god, you are married?" The words were out of me before I could think better of them. I tried to imagine what bedding such a woman would be like, and thought to myself that it would be much like the risk taken by the male of the praying mantis of Earth; what sort of man would marry such a creature?

"Yes. Goodnight." She shut the wagon behind her. 

There was a moment of silence. Then, Kamchak spoke. 

"It is probably a bad time, Tarl Cabot," he said. "To mention that Kutaituchuk was not the Ubar of the Tuchuks." 

"What?"

 It was surprising, Systlin thought, how many of the Tuchuk women had been willing...eager, even...to take up weapons and stand guard at her wagon. 

Not to her. No. On Ellinon, the children of the Lady would have found the ideas of the men of this 'Gor' incomprehensible, unlawful, hearsay, and downright suicidal. But to many of the women of Gor themselves, Systlin thought, the sheer thrill that came when picking up a blade or spear was new. 

She tried to picture what would have happened had Stellead found herself in this shithole of a world. Death, absolutely; her aunt had little talent in any form of Power, but she had won her place as Arms Master of Stellas Keep and as a Commander of the Bloodguard through sweat and skill. 

Even now, Systlin could only best her aunt blade to blade perhaps two matches out of three. 

If anyone...man, woman, even the gods themselves...had tried to bring Stellead to heel, she'd spit in their eye and disembowel them. 

Systlin smiled to herself. It was a stubbornness and force of will that she herself shared, and that her aunt, mother, and father had always fostered. 

The women did not know quite how to hold a spear, of course. Systlin had tried to gently insist that she didn't need an armed guard, more because she knew full well that they'd not yet be up to a fight than because she believed that. But they had insisted, and in the end she had simply advised them to stick to knives for the time being. 

The rugs and cushions and furs in the wagon were quite comfortable, and she was quite tired, but sleep was elusive. 

All of this...the rugs and furs, the sound of animals outside, the sound of low voices from the camp, the smell of dried dung fires...it was too similar to her time with the Rabi, with Sura, before Sura had become Queen of the Sands, when she'd simply been the leader of her clan. 

Sura's laugh, bright as a bell, and the taste of pomegranate wine. The light of the brazier catching glints of copper and red off of Sura's black hair, which gleamed almost blue in sunlight. 

The rugs beside her were cold, and she suddenly felt very alone. 

Her throne would be empty. She'd held the North together through sheer grit, guile, charisma, and the edge of a sword, and beaten it back into working shape after the War of the Crown had nearly destroyed it. 

Her daughter was only a girl. Foicatch, dear Foicatch, would do his best, she knew, but he was at heart a soldier, not a monarch. 

Her sister would step in, at least. 'Sina was capable. But she didn't have the fear and respect of the lords of the realm and the love of the common folk the way Systlin did. 

"Why am I here?" She whispered this in the dark, at the roof of the wagon. 

No one answered. 

"I have my own place. People who will miss me." She scowled at the dark, and anger rose hot and furious. "Responsibilities! I've not got time for...this!" She waved a hand randomly, indicating everything about this strange place. 

No one answered. But Systlin had met gods in her time, and she knew that if they cared to, they could hear. 

"Send me back!" She hissed this at the darkness, not sure who she was angry with. "Have I not done enough? Send me home! I do not want this!"

Nothing. 

Exhaustion, at last, won out, and she slept. 

She was, in her dreams, not surprised at her visitor. 

The Lady's face could never be seen. The most that could be gathered was an impression of poise, of stately calm. It was impossible even to place what color Her hair was, or her skin, though the hair floated around her like a cloud and she was nude. 

"You?" In her dream Systlin could still feel her anger, though it was a hollow ghost of what she'd felt while awake. 

Me. It wasn't a spoken word; it was felt. 

"I should have known at once." Systlin growled. "Have I not done enough? Can I have no peace?"

A laugh, chiming and musical, but which shook the very bones. You were never made for peace. 

And that was true. Systlin knew it, felt the truth of it in her soul. It was impossible to deny it, not before the Lady. 

She felt an answering whisper in her soul, as the slumbering power of what had once been the Lord of Night and Void, the God of Endings, the Fallen One, God of Conflict, Lord of Justice and retribution, stirred within her. 

Sister. The word was pointed, and almost mocking. Who denies still that you are. 

"I saved my world. It needs me; you know that damned well. I don't want to be a god."

Want. This word was definitely mocking. There is no want, sister. There is 'must'. My brother failed his duty, and corrupted it. You hold it now. In time, you will realize. Goddess of War, Goddess of Justice, Goddess of Protection, Goddess of Night, Goddess of Death, Goddess of Endings and rebirth. I do your duties for now, sister...but not forever. 

Systlin clenched her fists, and pointedly ignored this. "My people need me, damn you."

They are safe. 

Systlin closed her eyes. "You'll not send me back until I finish here." It wasn't a question. 

You could send yourself back whenever you wished, if you accepted your new place.

Systlin glared.

Another smile. So stubborn. No, I will not. Good luck, sister.

She woke. 

Within her, the power of the god she'd killed stirred again, and was once more silent. 

It was morning. She could see the sunlight under the door, and could hear the cheerful bustle of camp outside. 

"Gods damn it all to the pits." She muttered.

 The hardest thing about training the women of the Tuchuk in combat, Systlin soon found, was ingrained survival habits. 

Her aunt, in the long-ago days when Systlin had been a lanky youth still growing into her arms and legs and new to a training sword, had always said that the hardest thing about training older students was fixing ingrained and detrimental habits. 

Stellead had been referring to habits picked up from lesser arms masters...letting your shield drop, footwork that was less than flawless. Systlin wondered how her aunt would have dealt with this, as she interrupted a woman to correct her form and the former slave cringed and dropped at her feet, begging forgiveness. 

"I am sorry!" The woman was almost tearful. Systlin had been angry since she came to this cursed place, and she felt that knot of red rage flare. "I am sorry, I forgot..."

"It's all right." Systlin squatted, propping her elbows on her thighs. "Hush. It's all right. Here now." She offered her hand, and the girl hesitantly took it. Systlin stood, drawing the girl back to her feet, and then bent, picked up the dropped wooden sword, and offered it back hilt first. The girl took it. 

"Do you know," Systlin said, keeping her voice light and conversational, "how long it took me to become good with a sword?"

The woman blinked. "I...no, Ubara." 

"I started training at thirteen." Systlin smiled fondly in memory. "I first killed a wraithen at nineteen. I first killed men in battle at twenty five. that was two and a half decades and three wars ago." She tossed her own wooden sword in the air; it spun precisely one turn before she caught it again by the hilt. "Training takes time, and practice. You will make mistakes. I will never fault you for them; you simply correct them and keep training." 

The girl nodded slowly. Systlin had given the same speech to many girls over the last three weeks, but the habits learned to survive the men of this Pit of a planet went deep. It would be slow going yet; she knew that. 

"Fifty?" The question was unexpected. 

"Hm?"

"You are fifty?"

"Close enough, yes."

"Your world then has brews of youth as well?" The girl seemed curious. 

Systlin blinked. "I...no. But we're descended from the Lady, the goddess and mother of all. We live long." She considered the woman before her; she appeared to be perhaps in her late twenties. "How old are you?" 

"Oh. Sixty, I think? My masters have given me the brews of youth three times." 

The yawning pit of cold fury in Systlin's soul howled. 

"How many years of that," Systlin kept her voice carefully level. "Were you kept as property?"

"Since I was...oh, sixteen?"

The world went abruptly white before her eyes. The yawning spectre of the power she'd pulled from the soul of a slain god roared; goddess of justice, goddess of protection....

Fury, she was furious, and for a moment she knew, knew that it would be so, so easy, to rise on the wind and come down on the people who had done this. To become a storm, a furious reckoning, to scour this world clean in a night...

...No. No no NO. I will not. I have to teach them. They must take it themselves, for all I might lead them. Or it will all be for nothing...

By the time she fought it down and came back to herself she was on her knees, clutching the trampled grass with white knuckles. Sweat was soaking her, as it never did even if she fought all day. Her breath was coming short and sharp. 

"Ubara!" The voices were panicked, and she realized dimly that there were at least a dozen women around her, patting at her cheeks, offering water. 

She looked up, and saw worry, and fear, and as the god-soul inside her stirred, she saw more. She saw desperation, and so, so much pain, oceans of pain, seas of injustice, rivers of innocent blood spilled. 

And as the women of the Tuchuk looked at her, worried, she saw deep in their eyes hope. 

"Ubara?" It was  Sabra , the brave girl, who'd taken quite well to a spear. "Ubara?"

"I'm all right." She wasn't, not quite; her voice sounded rough to her own ears. "I'm all right. Keep practicing."

The hovered until she got to her feet, but once it was determined that the Ubara was not about to die, they slowly went back to their drills. 

Systlin moved a bit away, absently climbed the nearest wagon, and sat cross legged, looking out over the makeshift training grounds without really seeing. 

She'd always been a protector. Since they'd been children, and her sister's dreams had driven little 'Sina to cry and scream in her sleep. Since her father had nurtured that, and taught her that a Queen's people were her children, that her sacred duty was to protect and serve them. 

Since she'd torn the North back from the hands of the greedy and the corrupt, who'd sought to carve it apart for power and profit. 

Since she'd faced a god, putting her own body and soul between her people and the Fallen Lord himself. 

Since she'd faced a second goddess, and demanded the Lady return her daughter from beyond death. 

It was who she was, in the end. She knew it in her bones, even as she looked down at these strange people in this strange world, and felt it, that what she must do. 

"Pitting hells." She muttered this softly, and somewhere felt the Lady smile. 

 For some weeks now, the routine had been much the same; Kamchak and I, and the other men, were kept chained and carefully watched. Some men, after a measure of time should they demonstrate a contrite enough demeanor, had their chains removed and were allowed to move about the camp; they did so, casting their eyes aside from those of us who were still chained. 

I watched one man brush a bosk one evening, and oil its hooves. A slave girl should do such work, and he was clumsy at it. A girl was watching, wearing the leather trousers that had become fashionable among the women. Her hair, which was very long, was braided up and pinned in a coil on the top of her head; it was unflattering, I thought. She corrected him, and showed him how it was done properly, and he meekly listened. She smiled at him, and I thought that in silks and with hair loose she must have been quite a beauty. He smiled back, a bit tentatively. 

I snorted in disdain. There are always men that are so, those that are more akin to women than true men. 

She heard, and turned on me. There was a fierceness in her eyes. 

"See." She pointed at me, mocking. "He thinks himself better than you, Sarthak. He thinks himself too good for work about the camp, thinks it should be done only by women in chains." She laughed, and spit in my direction. "And yet he is still a prisoner in chains, while you are a free man. So who, then, is the better man?"

Sarthak grinned at me. He wore no scars, and scant weeks ago he had likely been unregarded utterly by the Tuchuk. 

"You speak true words, Lena." He agreed, and turned his back on me. She gave another laugh, and she turned back to their task. I realized with some surprise that the looks Lena was favoring the unscarred young man with were warm. 

"Disgraceful." Kamchak was chained to the other axle of the wagon, and he too was regarding the young man with distaste. "Have they made a slave of you already, boy?"

"He's a free man." Lena didn't look around. "All free men and women of able body must do their share of work. You shall too, should you ever be trusted and set free." 

Kamchak spat again, and leaned his head back against the wagon wheel. 

"It was a sad day," said the Ubar of the Tuchuk, "That that she-sleen came to the Tuchuk, Tarl Cabot." 

"Yes." I agreed. I wondered still how many she had slain in that night, through sorcery. The pyres had burned for two days and nights. 

We watched the girl teach the young man to grease the axles of the wagon. We had little else to do. 

As the evening meal was brought, we were finally given some surprise to rouse us from the deadly tedium that had marked the weeks. 

The she-sleen had a cloak now, made of red larl-hide. She wore it pinned at a jaunty angle, thrown back over one shoulder. She was wearing a leather vest over her strange scale armor today. She regarded us for a moment, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. I'd examined that weapon many times now, and I still could not place the make of it; it was no Gorean style I knew of, and the silver-blue of the blade was unlike any alloy I knew on Earth. It was somewhat shorter than most blades I had seen, perhaps thirty-six inches in all in total length. A great polished amethyst was set into the pommel, the most darkly violet stone I'd ever seen. 

It was viciously sharp. I knew this. 

"You." She said to me. The word was said in Gorean; she was learning quickly, it seemed, for all her strange magic did seem to translate for her. "You'll come with me." She nodded at the girl following her...I recognized her, I realized, it was the girl Dina I had seen around camp before, the slave reputed to be the best at the running game...and Dina brought out a ring of keys. 

Dina's hair was braided, as was Systlin's. Dina wore leather trousers, as did Systlin. Dina wore a quiva, as  Systlin wore her long dagger, and had stood and rested her hand on the hilt of the quiva in conscious imitation of the strange woman. 

It seemed to be a fashion, I noted, that many of the freed slave girls and even many of the Tuchuk women had taken up. 

I said nothing.  It had not been a request, of course, and I had little choice. My leg was healing, but I was far from my top form.

My chains were let loose. I stood, with some difficulty, and Dina's help. She was, I noticed with some surprise, quite strong. There were muscles through her shoulders that I'd never before seen so developed on any Gorean woman, and her hands were tough. 

I knew that well; my own hands were callused thus from the hilt of sword and the haft of lance. It was surprising that a slave girl had developed such in such a short time. 

I was led to the great wagon that Systlin had claimed as her own; the wagon that I knew, now, was not the true wagon of the Ubar of the Tuchuks. 

Inside, a meal of roast bosk had been laid ready for us. Systlin sat cross legged on the cushions; the maleness of the gesture still grated at my sensibilities. Seeing it preformed by one who might look quite well kneeling in silks was wrong, quite wrong. Dina helped me, somewhat ungracefully and with some pain, to sit. 

Systlin did not touch the food at once. She was watching me, and the gaze was keen and direct. I said nothing, but examined her in return. 

I am an observant man. It is one of my strengths. But I could gather little from her, save that which I had already deduced; she was strongly built, for a woman, all solid wiry muscle. Her hands were tough, those of a swordsman. Her gaze was intelligent, and I could not place her origin; the bone structure and shape of her eyes was subtly foreign, but not of any place I knew. She could have been beautiful, perhaps, were she arrayed instead in silk. She never, I noted, let her weapons stray far from her hand. 

She was used, I thought, to fighting. Used even to being attacked in the most secure of surroundings. She had said before that many men had tried to kill her; what sort of creature was this that sat before me?

"You're wondering why I brought you here." She broke the silence. Her tone was crisp, and it was not a question.

I said nothing. 

"The answer is because you are not of these people. I know that the Wagon Peoples usually slay outsiders. That means you are unusual, and I'm wagering it means you're quite skilled at arms." She examined me again, much as I'd examined her, and I saw her noting the callus of my hands. "Your accent is not like that of these people, as well. They say you are Koroban, wherever the fuck that is. I've heard that you have, apparently, traveled."

I said nothing. 

"That makes you potentially useful." She informed me of this without a hint of emotion. "I know very little of this world, and while I'm learning, I suspect that you know more than most."

I had heard her say such things before. I am quite well acquainted with such matters, of course, being once of Earth. "Of this world?" I said at last. 

"Of this world." A horrible humorless smile. "You know full well I'm not from here. This whole place is a nightmare and a travesty. You're lucky my aunt Stellead is not here; she’s less merciful than I. She'd have castrated the lot of your slavers and rapists, slow roasted the genitals, and fed them back to you a bite at a time. And to be honest, I did consider that." 

I could not help but cringe at the thought. 

"From what I have gathered," she continued, "No part of this world is not at the mercy of monsters who hold humans as livestock and use them as they please. It's that, I think, that I've been brought here to end. And you, Tarl Cabot, are going to give me information as I do it." 

The shock of her words was immediate. "Sent? The priest-kings...."

The wave of a hand, dismissive. "I've heard of them. No. Gods, no. I don't care a whit for them. If they interfere I'll deal with them. No, it's a power higher than them that's sent me." 

I blinked at her in shock. The priest-kings are feared and worshiped as gods on Gor, with reason. They are advanced beyond any human designs, and are exceptionally powerful. Yet I saw not a trace of fear in her. 

"They are very powerful," I said. "And your powers may bring their wrath yet." I hoped it, of course. They can burn a man to ashes on a whim.

A laugh. Another cold, humorless laugh. "Maybe." She said. "But I've slain gods before. What are a few more? No. You are going to give me information, Tarl Cabot, on this world. And then I am going to conquer it. Every last damned corner of it."

I stared at her in horror, and she simply smiled in return.

[normal-thoughts-official]

Why was Lorenzo such a jealous bitch nd why does this fandom treat him like he's a good person😑

okay so i know that this is a rethorical question but i've actually thought about this a lot so i'll take my crack at answering this - WHY is lorenzo such a jealous bitch?

the only thing he's said about why he hates magnus - that i remember of, at least - is the line "he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. his fame is not based on talent, it's all nepotism"

now, anyone who knows anything at all about magnus knows that not a single fucking word of this is true. magnus was born poor in a recently colonized country under a lot of oppression, there was no damn silver spoon in his mouth, and after that he was thoroughly abused by his demon father. his fame is also absolutely based on talent - he invented portals, for fuck's sake! and the "nepotism" comment barely makes sense. i assume he means it's just that magnus' power is all due to the fact that his father is demon royalty, which makes magnus more powerful than most warlocks

so, that explains what lorenzo is jealous of - magnus' power and prestige among warlocks (such as having been HWoB for decades) - but not what the fuck lorenzo's deal is (i mean, we've met plenty of other warlocks in the show, many of which weren't really fans of magnus, but no one other than lorenzo has this idea that magnus doesn't deserve his fame), or why magnus (because while like, yes, magnus is very powerful, i assume he's not the only son of a prince of hell, considering asmodeus is not the only prince of hell and these guys get on the loose, like, weekly. and lorenzo is obviously OBSESSED with him, he deliberately went out of his way and abused his power as HWoB several times specifically to antagonize him, and also, you know, TRIED TO KILL HIM)

lorenzo talks about magnus almost as if magnus took something from him. it's not just that magnus is powerful and that he supposedly doesn't deserve it, lorenzo obviously feels as if antagonizing magnus is some sort of vengeance. i know plenty of jealous people, but going as far as forbidding anyone other than himself from giving magnus a magic transfusion, specifically saying that if it went wrong he wouldn't help, and then refusing to take back the magic when he KNEW perfectly well that would kill him, is to me very obviously a thought out plan TO kill magnus. lorenzo had been hoping from the start that magnus' body would reject his magic and the transfusion would kill him - why else would he specifically say, the second he agreed to the transfusion, that if it went wrong magnus would be on his own?

and it's not like lorenzo even gains anything from that, other than killing magnus. and humiliating him, which lorenzo has said explicitly was something he wanted to do (i believe the term he used was "breaking his spirit", but potato potatoh). if it was about magnus' position of power, he already had that - lorenzo literally already had the HWoB position. if it was about magnus' magic, he had already lost it. lorenzo had absolutely NOTHING to gain from magnus, so his personal vendetta against him doesn't even make sense from JUST a jealousy standpoint. he had already "won" over magnus. the only explanation is that he wanted some kind of revenge

but revenge from what? well, we know that magnus and lorenzo don't like each other, but magnus never really TOOK anything from lorenzo. considering how he wouldn't miss an opportunity to talk about how much he hated him, i think lorenzo would have brought it up if that had been the case. and magnus is just not the kind of person to pull the rug from under other people's feet - look no further than the whole show for evidence of that. he literally puts the others above himself at all times (which is unhealthy but that's another story and something i've talked about plenty of times already)

so why does lorenzo feel so much resentment towards magnus? why does he act as if magnus' power took something that was rightfully his?

i think lorenzo feels that he was entitled to be the most powerful, to have the most prestige, to be above magnus, and he resented magnus because that was simply not true

why?

let's go back to the only thing we know about lorenzo's backstory - the baby painting. yes, it's a huge meme, but think about that for a second. lorenzo has a huge ass painting of himself as a baby that he displays proudly in his home and that's, like, his #1 stop at the house tour. the baby painting. "needless to say, being born in spain during the siglo de oro was quite the experience". is the first thing he said

let's make this abundantly clear: this line makes it canon that lorenzo is a colonizer. the siglo de oro ("golden century" in spanish) started (roughly) in 1492, year of the """""discovery""""" of the americas, and ended (roughly) in 1659, the year when spain signed a treaty and lost a bunch of their territories to france (link to source). altho the term is usually used to refer to the boom of the arts in spain, it's obvious, just from these historical landmarks, that the siglo de oro is about colonization. it's about the fact that at the time spain was at its peak colonial power, and could afford to exploit what later became third world countries, and put part of that money (in fact, the literal gold they were stealing from latin american countries) into arts and other luxuries (because in the renaissance portraits were a luxury item and a symbol of status - link to source) for the ultra rich that benefited from colonization

so, lorenzo is not only a colonizer, but he's a part of the elite. the fact that his family could afford to have a painting of him as a BABY (portraits were almost exclusively adult portraits, and usually of the whole family, unless you were even richer than the rich. and even then individual portraits were usually to celebrate important achievements such as a marriage or acquisition of state - a baby being born doesn't qualify, especially because at the time most babies died not long after birth anyway), and a HUGE painting on top of that, shows that they were just. loaded in an incomprehensible way. im talking jeff bezos level of riches. they were the elite of the biggest colonial empire of their century. so, ironically, lorenzo was born with a silver spoon in his mouth - everything that he had, he was born having, and he specifically had because it was being stolen due to a dramatically violent process of genocide and slavery, that he believed to be entitled to simply because he was born a spaniard/white. that is all canon, because in the shverse mundane history is the same as in real life. EVERYONE who was born in the colonial elites was taught that they were entitled to shit from other countries, that they were superior not only to other ppls but also to their own people - let's not forget that this was way before the advent of republics, those were monarchies. the ppl who were part of the elite straight up believed they were superior to others by virtue of god

"woah woah woah but lorenzo is played by javier muñoz who's brown" yeah, which is unfortunate, but he is still canonically a colonizer. first off, because it's not like they wanted someone to be lorenzo and were looking for brown people - they were looking for someone javier could play because he's a bigshot broadway actor who was also a fan of the show, and then they picked lorenzo. probably because the sh showrunners don't fucking know the difference between a latino and a spaniard. or maybe they do, but they thought, "eh, close enough". either way, lorenzo is a spaniard, and he was born a colonizer - ergo, he is white, regardless of what race his actor is, regardless of even what he looks like. there are plenty of white spaniards with similar skin tones to lorenzo, because what today is spain used to be a territory occupied by middle eastern ppl, and there was mixing. what makes whiteness is not skin tone, it's context, and the context of being a literal colonizer directly benefitting of the oppression of black and brown people is as white as it gets

so, to recap: lorenzo was born a white colonizer, and he was RAISED believing that everything he had, he was entitled to. he was entitled to it by virtue of god, because he was born a part of the rich elite in the richest colonial power in the world, and he had access to everything he could possibly want. and he wasn't just entitled to riches and power - which he still has, look at his fucking mansion, dude - but specifically to superiority to his peers. especially black and brown people, the source of his riches, the people who owe him the wealth he takes from them

and then he joins the warlock world, and not only is he not royalty (because presumably he is the son of a regular demon, not too high up in the hierarchy) but some brown guy is. and this guy is in a position of power over him (high warlock) and he is better than him (at magic, specifically, but also at everything including being a human being, but lorenzo doesn't care about that). and lorenzo is fucking livid, because he believes himself to be entitled to be the best, entitled to be treated as a superior, entitled to admiration and to servitude, especially from people like magnus (let's not forget that the philippines - colonized by spain during the siglo de oro - are right next to indonesia [link]). instead, magnus is, politically speaking, his superior

and it's not like it even means much because the high warlock position is implied to be kind of like, the mayor, and it's not like magnus ever abused his power (unlike some people - and sidenote, i think this backstory is also why lorenzo was so comfortable using his power to antagonize magnus: because he was raised in a context where political power was pretty much boundless and politics and the personal feelings of the ruler were not separated). so in practice its really just that if lorenzo had a problem, he could go to magnus, and if magnus made a decision that referred to all warlocks, lorenzo was supposed to follow it. it's nowhere near like, actual subservience. but it's way too much for someone who was raised to be entitled to the level that lorenzo was

so that's why he has this feeling that magnus took something from him - because in his head, everything magnus has, lorenzo should be entitled to. because in his head, any and all power rightfully belongs to him, and if magnus has it, then it has been stolen. and that might not even be conscious of his part or whatever, altho i doubt lorenzo doesn't think in explicitly racist terms at least in private, but that had been ingrained into his head for centuries on end. if it's still ingrained into the heads of white spaniards born TODAY, imagine one who was actually born at the fucking height of racist exploitation

so. yeah. that's why lorenzo is such a jealous bitch. that's why he hates magnus so much - because he feels that magnus having anything at all lorenzo doesn't is theft, and ironically, he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, but believes that he earnt what he has whereas magnus didn't. it's not just jealousy, it's a profound feeling of racist vendetta, and i'm sure the sh writers didn't mean it that way, they were just writing a big villain to bring malec together, but death of the author, baby! and this explanation actually makes sense without having to change anything in canon, so, i feel very comfortable saying that's why lorenzo behaves the way he does

THIS POST IS NOT ABOUT THE BOOKS

[lazuli-bloom]

Cold Comfort

Beetlejuice x Reader

Word Count : 1552

Hurt/Comfort

After a rough day of work all you want to do is hide away and cry, only for Betelgeuse to find you.

You drag your feet to the front door of your apartment. The key in hand, you pause before bringing it up to unlock the door. You rub at your sore eyes and try your best to flatten down your hair. Everything hurt. Aches, dizziness, a pounding in your head. Anguish and misery swirled in your mind, bleeding out into your appearance. You ready yourself, taking in a breath before unlocking the front door. It pushes open with ease and you step inside to a dark living room. You step inside, letting out a cheery hello. Silence. There was no reply, no one else in the apartment. A strange blend of relief and sadness mixed in your heart as you closed the door. Once shut, the dam you thought was holding back everything broke. You grab at your chest as shaky hiccups accompany your sobs. Why did you let that shit bother you? Why did it sting so much worse today? You shake your head, closing your eyes tight, but it didn’t stop the tears. You couldn’t just stay in front of the door. As much as you yearned to collapse right there, it would just cause more problems. Your roommate could be back soon, and he didn’t need to see you as a complete wreck. Working quick, you grab your water bottle from the fridge and one of the more filling snacks you had. You take it all to your room and leave a note taped to your door. A simple one that just said work left you tired and went to bed early. You kept the lights off and haphazardly changed into your pajamas, leaving your work clothes in crumpled piles somewhere on the floor. Eyes welling with more tears, you crawl into bed. From there time blurred. All you recall doing was hugging one of your pillows and wailing into it to smother out the sound. Negative thoughts came in cycles, crashing down in full force then to resend to a numb ache, only to crash back down with a fresh wave of sorrow. You were a burden; you deserved nothing good. All you do is annoy others. They’re all just too nice to point it out and say it to your face. Everyone hates you and wants you gone. The tears never stopped. The pain in your head seeped down into your heart. Without thinking, you sobbed out a plea for these thoughts to go away. You knew deep down these thoughts and ideas were wrong, but that didn’t stop the pain. What did stop them was the bed shifting, adjusting to the new weight close to the middle of your back. The pain was quick to crawl back into your thoughts and you pull the blankets over yourself. Go away. That’s what you wanted to say. But the words came out as some incomprehensible croak. “Babes, what’s wrong?” His voice was soft and full of worry. You didn’t need to look at him to know his expression. His tone, his hand rubbing circles over the blankets, the soft pleas asking you to talk. You upset him. “Nothing.” “Don’t lie, what’s wrong?” You pull the covers tighter. New tears spill and your head pounds with every sob that breaks loose. Part of you wished he would just go away and leave you to cry. You didn’t want him to see you as this ugly mess of negative emotions. And yet you also wanted him to stay, to help anchor in this ocean of misery. The latter option won. You move to sit up, keeping the cocoon of blankets covering yourself. You kept your head down so the hood could at least help hide your swollen red face. “I don’t know... a lot of things. A lot of stupid things that I shouldn’t be crying over.” He said nothing. You thought he might have disappeared if not for his weight on the bed, moving closer to sit beside you. “Work was an absolute shitshow all day. I just... everything went wrong. The place was scorching hot and no one could get the heaters to turn off. And customers are shouting at me like I was doing it!” You hiccupped and pulled the blankets tighter against your head. Your throat felt so scratchy and in need of a drink. You slipped a hand out of the cocoon and grab the still chilly water.

The water soothed your throat for a blissful moment. You steady your breathing after taking a swig and set the bottle back on the nightstand. More hot tears roll down your face, but you let them be as you continue recounting your day. “I kept screwing up. Mistake after mistake. Grabbed the wrong thing, didn’t explain policy well enough, couldn’t keep my voice happy and polite.” There was a pressure that snaked over the blankets across your shoulders. Your breath hitched and you run your fingers through your messy hair, sweat coating your fingers as they do. “I slipped up and started crying at work. And that horrible vendor had to be in the break room. He’s bad on most days but...” You grit your teeth. Your nails dig into your scalp, trying to reach in and throw away that interaction from your memory. “‘God, you’re ugly when you cry. What do you have to be sad about? Don’t you have friends to go to? Or did they bail on you because you’re being too dramatic? Just suck it up and get over it, nobody cares.’ He had the fucking audacity to say that shit to me.” His hand gripped tighter around your shoulder. He kept most of the force in the palm, but his fingertips still pressed into your shoulder some. And despite the blankets, you couldn’t help but notice sharp claws pressing down too. Not enough to hurt, but very much there. Your own nails let up from your head to go back to holding the edges of the blankets as close to you as possible. The stinging in your eyes ebbs when you rub at them, but the tears still blur your vision. “Beetle, do you think I’m...” You could bring yourself to finish your thought. A truthful answer would only hurt. You’d rather pretend to not care than shatter your friendship. You shake your head and said a soft, “nevermind, forget it.” A second arm slid over your front, and before you could worm your way out, Betelgeuse pulled you onto his lap. You pull the blankets tight as you could, but the demon grabbed a fist full of the fabric. You halfheartedly struggle to keep the blankets covering your head. However, it was a fruitless effort; he would not let you hide way anymore. Still, if you didn’t have a hood on, you kept your gaze turned away. “Come on babe, please look at me.” “No, I look terrible and you’ll make fun of me.” Your reply came out a weak hiccup. There was a moment of stillness, only punctuated with your soft sobs. Betelgeuse was first to move. He wrapped his arms tighter around you, pulling you into a hug. He buried his face into the back of your head, further messing up your disheveled hair. He didn’t exactly give warm hugs. But after being wrapped up in blankets and spilling many hot tears down your cheeks, the chill was refreshing. You didn’t squirm out of his embrace. But you didn’t relax into his arms either. “Why do you put up with me?” “I could ask you the same thing, babes.” Betelgeuse pulled you closer and nuzzled against your hair. His chest rose and fell some, carrying a slight breeze of air going through your hair. Odd, considering he didn’t need to breathe. He hummed into your hair. “But if you want to know, I made a list.” “No, it’s... you don’t have to do that.” “You sure? I got at least a novel’s worth of all the little things I like about you. Like, when you get really excited, when you talk about your favorite games, and movies, and other stuff. Also, when that same passion goes into you ranting about all the stupid little things that annoyed you. “Then there’s every time you offer me hugs when I’m even the slightest bit upset. “And can’t forget how you’re the sweetest breather I’ve ever met, always getting me things whenever you go out shopping, like that giant electric blanket.” You sniffle and chiming in, “You said you like warm things and when I saw it-“ Betelgeuse’s arms wrapped tighter around you for a moment as he let out a chuckle. “See? You’re always being thoughtful and spoiling me, huh?” “I care about you... I want you to be happy.” “And I care about you and want you to be happy too.” You finally let yourself relax in his arms. Wiping away the leftover tears, you takin in a shaky breath. Once you felt calm enough, you shifted, lacing your arms under his as your head rest on Betelgeuse’s shoulder. “Beetle? I was wondering-“ “You want to scare the shit out of the asshole that upset you?” “... Maybe.” “Awesome, you order the pizza, and I’ll try out an idea I had on the delivery guy. Then we can get to scheming.”

[tsumugimagines]

asdfghjkhfsa just got here and aro-ace gang✨✨✨ anyways, can i get some Shuichi, Gundham, Kaede, and Kokichi (seperately lol) stuff? It can be angst, it can be fluff, it can be hurt/comfort, idc, just make it sfw please. (i may or may not have read all the content i can get my hands on for those characters already nope couldn't be me) btw, since i'm going to be hanging around here for a while, can i be 🎮 anon?

Sure! Welcome to the party, 🎮 anon! Anything I want, eh? Well, since you didn't specify if it was with an S/O or not, how about... Painting a friend's nails! Sine you want them all separately, this'll require some creativity on my part. I hope you enjoy it!

Shuichi Saihara

"Please, Saihara-Kun! I am sure you will do a fine job of it. You will not do any damage to my hands!" Kiibo insisted. "I wish to be part of this manicure activity as well!"

"I-I... Well, okay, but... I've never done this before." Shuichi admitted, sitting at the table across from the now eager robot. "Um... What color do you want?"

"I believe this teal color would look best on me." Kiibo replied, pointing to a bottle hesitantly. Shuichi nodded and started to unscrew the cap, only to realize he was twisting the wrong way. He sighed and twisted the cap correctly, opening the nail polish. To any onlooker, one thing was obvious: Neither party knew what he was doing.

"Try and hold still, okay? It'll make things easier." Shuichi requested, taking the brush out of the bottle. Kiibo nodded, sitting up straight and holding as still as he possibly could.

"I understand."

"Kiibo-Kun... I need you to hold out your hands so I can paint them."

"Oh, right!"

With that, Shuichi bit his lip and began to paint the tips of Kiibo's fingers. Kiibo did not have any visible fingernails, but Shuichi tried his best to approximate where they would be. Kiibo didn't say a word or move at all until Shuichi was finally done applying a coat of color to each finger.

"They look excellent, Saihara-Kun!"

"R-Really?"

"Yes, they do! Thank you so much!"

Kiibo and I grew a little closer today.

You gained a Hope Fragment!

Gundham Tanaka

"Hmph... The gall! The sheer nerve!"

"Tanaka-Kun-" Sonia started.

"The idea that I, Gundham Tanaka, Supreme Overlord Of Ice, would engage in such an activity?! Preposterous! Incomprehensible! Inconceivable!"

"Then why do you own a bottle of black nail polish, Tanaka-Kun?"

Gundham seemed to wilt. "I-I... Erm..."

"Tanaka-Kun, such a thing is nothing to be ashamed of." Sonia assured, offering a smile. "Should I offer to paint your nails instead?"

"N-No!" Gundham recovered, hiding his blushing face with his scarf. "I am sure I shall manage just fine. Mirage Golden Hawk Jum-P shall sit by your side as we proceed, to ensure that you are protected from any dark forces that may disrupt this delicate ritual."

"Wonderful!" Sonia beamed, sitting cross-legged in front of Gundham. The sleepy white and brown hamster, as promised, made his way to Sonia's side and curled up there, closing his eyes. Sonia held out her delicate hands, and Gundham proceeded with the manicure. There was a period of silence before Gundham finally spoke.

"Tell me, Lady Of Darkness. Are such traditions as this prominent in the realm in which you usually reside?"

"Oh, yes! I have seen many palace servants with painted nails! I think it is as common in the kingdom of Novoselic as it is everywhere else."

"I see." Gundham replied. He had completed his work quickly and skillfully, applying multiple coats of polish to each finger. Now he was getting ready to apply the clear top coat.

"My goodness!" Sonia giggled. "You seem to have experience in painting nails, Gundham!"

"Hmph... I am Tanaka The Forbidden One! To think I would not be skilled in such a menial field as this is absurd."

"If you say so." Sonia replied knowingly, allowing the breeder to finish applying the top coat to her nails with a smile.

Kaede Akamatsu

"There you are!" Kaede exclaimed, practically lighting up with excitement as the door opened.

"Hey, Akamatsu-San." Rantaro greeted, rubbing the back of his head a little. "What's this about?"

"Oh, well, remember how you gave me an amazing manicure a while ago?"

"Oh, yeah. Why?"

"Well, I wanted to return the favor!" She proclaimed, gesturing to a table laden with all the appropriate items needed. Rantaro could even see a book on the table titled "Manicures for beginners."

"Oh, really?" Rantaro chuckled. "Well, I don't see why not."

"Great!" Kaede replied, sitting down. Rantaro sat down across from him and extended his hands.

"Do you have a color preference, Amami-Kun?" Kaede asked, laying down a towel for her to work over.

"No, not really. Guess if I had to pick, I'd go with either green or black, but my sisters always insisted on painting 'em pink for some reason."

"Aw, that's adorable!" Kaede giggled, opening a bottle of dark green nail polish. "Did they stick little rhinestones on, too?"

"They tried once. I think more polish ended up on the carpet than on my hands." Rantaro chuckled.

"Well, that's what happens when you give kids messy things, I guess." Kaede replied with a smile as she began to paint Rantaro's nails. He let out a small chuckle, echoing the words she had said to him a long time ago.

"H-Hey, Akamatsu-San! That tickles!"

Kaede giggled in reply, continuing on with her work. Rantaro spared another glance at the "Manicures For Beginners" book at the edge of the table as Kaede began to attempt a French Slant of her own. He had a feeling that she would give him a better manicure than his sisters ever had, but he would never have said that out loud.

Kokichi Oma

"Okie dokie! How are things going with you two?" A masked girl with ponytails asked in a singsong voice.

"Perfectly!" Kokichi beamed, not looking up from his work. The unfortunate recipient of the manicure, a well-endowed woman wearing gold hoop earrings, gave a pained smile. Clearly, things were not going perfectly.

"Um... Interesting color combo you've got going there!" Someone else commented, peering over Kokichi's shoulder. "Very... Bold!"

"Nishishi! You flatter me." Kokichi chuckled in reply.

"Did you... Color one of her nails with an orange marker?" Someone else asked. By now, every single member of D. I. C. E was leaning over, looking at Kokichi's handiwork.

"Sure did!" He replied. "Okay... Done!"

"They look very colorful, Ouma-Sama." Someone else chuckled. "And so does the table."

"Nishishi! Of course they- Wait, what?"

Kokichi looked down at the table, seeing the splatters of color that now littered it. Everyone giggled.

"H-Hey! As your Supreme Leader, I order you all to stop laughing!" He scoffed. "We can clean this up fine!"

"I-I'll get some paper towels..." A girl with long brown hair sighed, turning before anyone could say anything more.

"So much for D. I. C. E manicure sessions, eh?" The tallest member of the group chuckled, looking at his red nails that now perfectly matched his bright afro.

"Pfft... What are you talking about? Seems like it was a complete success to me!"

The rest of the group giggled again. Kokichi looked up at them, annoyed.

"Hey! This is a super duper serious matter, you know!"

"Sure it is, Ouma-Sama." Someone else replied, their voice dripping with sarcasm. "Sure it is."