#grasshopper the answer is there in the question

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

From the Neil Gaiman: Dream Dangerously 🥺❤ (you can watch it here in US or with US vpn :) <3) (or just this bit on youtube here :))

Neil Gaiman: I miss him most when I get stuck. You know, I'll just be working on something and I'll go, "Oh, this isn't quite it," and all I want to do is just call Terry, tell him what's going on and have him say, "Ah, grasshopper, the answer is there in the question." And I'd go, "Oh, for fuck's sake, Terry, just tell me."

[Terry Pratchett laughing]

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[bks-writing-adventures]

Little Dancer (Aemond Targaryen X Lannister! Reader)

Summary: A wholesome little journey between the first time Aemond met his wife to the birth of their children.

Warnings: Mentions of childbirth, brief mentions of sex.

Aemond never thought he would be a father. He never even thought he would get married, until you came around at a ball. He forgot what it was, a name day of his nephews? Some celebration for his parents marriage? None of it mattered, because he sat still at his family table, watching the room dance and watching lords get drunk and stupid. And all of a sudden you had blocked his view, your hands on either side of his plate. 

“Do all Princes sit pouting at balls?” You asked. The question flustered him, his one eye meeting yours. It was like you were challenging him, and the thought made his heart spin in his chest. 

“Only when he has no one to dance with.” He answered. The words magically came to him, and he held his breath as he had waited for you to respond. 

“It is a good thing I am here then, is it not? Or would you rather sit here, eating scraps and wishing to be elsewhere?” You were so teasing- so confident, and before he knew it, his hand was wrapped around yours, and you were walking backward as you dragged him to the dancefloor. He did not have the time to be self conscious, and he could no longer let his eye wander as his hands landed on yours, spinning you, watching how your skirts swished and your hair got fluffy and frizzed. 

“So who are you, my little dancer?” He asked softly, holding you closer to him. You were warm, and he couldn’t tell what was making his heart pound. Your presence or the wine, or maybe an intoxicating blend of both.

 “(Y/N) Lannister,” You answered, licking your lips as the song ended. “If you wish to get to know me, we should move somewhere quieter,” You said gently, and he smiled as his eye wandered. 

“I know a place,” He said softly, his arm linked with yours as he carefully lead you out and into the gardens. It was quite the scandalous thing, he was well aware- but he didn’t care enough to stop. His brother was far from proper, he was a criminal and a disappointment. Speaking to a pretty girl in the garden would not be the worst crime. The garden hiccuped with the sounds of grasshoppers and frogs, and you smiled at the sound. 

“Do you know what that sound is?” You asked softly, and he gave you a curious look as you walked further into the great land of flowers. 

“Frogs,” He said simply, to which you nodded. 

“Mating frogs. Do you know how many eggs a frog can lay at once?” You asked.

 “Do you tell everyone your favorite amphibians facts, or am I special?” He smiled a little, trying not to let his interest show on his face. 

“There are facts much more interesting than that,” You answered, and for a few minutes, the two of you simply walked in the quiet. 

“How many eggs can a dragon lay?” You asked. 

“You take an interest in dragons, My Lady?” He asked in return, to which you nodded. He quietly sat on a bench, pulling you down to sit beside him. The moonlight did not do much to guide either of you, but he could make out the bridge of your nose and the slight shine of your eyes in the darkness. “Well, they can lay five, at most.” He responded, wondering if that would be enough for you.

 “Why is that? And what are they like?” You asked, resting your chin on your hand. You had always liked to learn about science, and this was your way in. Into the world of infinite books and knowledge. And he just had such a pretty face, which definitely helped the case. 

“The eggs? They’re hard and large and scaly,” He responded, reaching over to touch your hand. It was a daring move, but he wanted to feel you. In the darkness, touch the soft skin of your hand and wrist, and you didn’t move away.

 “Why is that? Are they not reptiles?” You asked quietly, and he had to lean closer to hear you.

 “Dragons cannot be put into a box, My Lady. They are everything and nothing. No mortal could ever learn to understand them,” He murmured, gently guiding your hand to his mouth so he could kiss it. He wasn’t sure what it was about you that attracted him so. You were just so unconventional, untrained. It was fascinating. 

“Not even Targaryens?” You asked softly as his breath tickled your fingers.

 “Certainly not. We only shout commands and hope they listen,” He chuckled softly. He was about to speak again when a loud shout suddenly broke the walls of intimacy around them. For the love of Gods, this did not look good. He wasn’t sure if he pushed your hand away, or if you pulled it back, but all contact was quickly broken as the two of you rushed to stand up. 

“Aemond, what is the meaning of this?” His mother sounded rather angry. She always was, whenever something like this happened. This was the worst possible time for her to wander over. 

“Mother, I was simply conversing with the Lady Lannister, and-” She cut him off, making his lips purse. 

“Without a chaperone, in the darkness, away from the sights of others? Do you understand how scandalous this is?” As you both shrunk under her lecture, neither of you argued back. And soon enough you and Aemond were sat before his mother and your own as they discussed. 

“We did nothing unholy. We were only speaking of the anatomy of dragons,” You frowned, to which your mother quickly shook her head.

 “Is that what they call it nowadays? This is out of control, and now your honor is ruined,” She huffed, and you stared down boredly at your hands. This is not how you thought your night would go, and the next sentence only made things more bizarre. 

“Her honor is not ruined, and I will ensure it. I intend to make (Y/N) my wife.” Aemond spoke, making your head quickly turn. All arguments died out like a flame without air, his eye soft and apologetic as he looked at you. But neither of you could claim to be mad about it. It was only the Gods’ odd way of making a match, and the next days were full of shy conversation and blushing cheeks, loomed over by your parents as they dissected every interaction.  

“I have a gift for you,” he said softly, pulling out a large book from his bag. It was bigger than your head, and the spine as so thick it could easily be mistaken for a brick. 

“Wow,” You mumbled, trying to read the front cover, but it is not in Common. Your eyes looked to his face, a curious look taking over your own.

 “It is in High Valyrian, its one of the oldest books in our library- well, not that one, that is a copy. The original would crumble like sand in your palms. But the language will be important for you to learn, I thought we could practice together,” He spoke, getting a little shy. It was a sweet sight, and you nodded as he explained. 

“Then you should allow me to teach you some Nyvia.” You responded. His brows scrunched a little. He had never heard of the language in his life.

 “And what is that?” He asked gently, intrigued. He didn’t realize you were bilingual, too.Your children would be an interesting batch. 

“My mothers first language. It is dying out, not many speak it anymore. Are you familiar with the island of Nyav?” You asked, and he nodded slowly. He had read about it in history books. It had been a brilliant place of beautiful plants and even more beautiful people. The stories said that it was lost to the sea, or to conquering, no one was sure. You were like a God of the old world, sitting right before him. 

“She lived there as a young girl, escaped before it disappeared, when she was betrothed to my father. I will admit that my own speaking is messy, but at least it is alive,” You spoke, slowly opening the book he had given you. You squinted a little. The letters were familiar, but the order was unlike anything you had ever seen. The longer he looked at you, the more questions formed in his head. 

“Do you think you have any Valyrian in you?” He asked. Nyvia had belonged to no one at all, no one knew where the people came from, only that they had not been there all along. Perhaps it had begun with Targaryen’s fleeing the Doom, or other Valyrians that escaped to the sea and washed upon its shores. 

“I do not think so. I do not look the part,” You reminded him, watching as his hand inched closer to yours, your fingertips brushing. It was perhaps the most touch you would be allowed until after you were married.

 “White hair does not make a Valyrian. It was only a thought,” He said, gently shrugging. His mind wandered to your children, the ones he would have with you. How many there would be. If they would have hair like yours, or hair like his own. How they would look on dragonback, and if you could all fly together as a family. Vhagar was more than big enough for two. You could hold his waist, and he would fly ahead of the children, and they would follow him like ducklings. Maybe you would have 12 children, one for every moon of the year. He cleared his throat as his mother called for him. Your meeting was done for the day. And when two more moons passed, it was finally your wedding day. Your dress clung to every part of your body, and your hair was covered with a heavy veil, beaded with pearls and gems big enough to pay off an entire house. 

The maids had tried to get you to agree to having pinned hair, or a more tradition style, but you declined. You never liked having too much on you, weighing you down. The air was stuffy with the breath of hundreds, and you tried not to look at the crowd as Aemond stood before you. “Kessa sagon sȳz.  Laesi va nyke.” He murmured softly, and you nodded as your eyes studied his face. He was wearing his fanciest eyepatch. You wondered how many were in his collection, and if you would ever see him without it. If he slept with it on. As you both repeated the words of the Septon, and it came time for the kiss- you stared at each other for a long, awkward few seconds, trying to figure out which one of you would lean in first. You may have been brave enough to approach him that first night, when he was just a sulking stranger. But now things were so much bigger. You had an audience. 

Finally, once he accepted you would not be the one to do it, he leaned down to press a brief, awkward kiss on your mouth, and you both parted with small, sheepish smiles. Once you were at your table, you both let out deep breaths from your lungs, and finally,you could curl up together, your arms looped around his as you giggled into his sleeve. “That was unbearable,” Your words were light, but the hit was strong, and he chuckled awkwardly. He had hoped the kiss was not that bad. But he felt a wave of uncertainty rushing into him. The first kiss was supposed to be magical, like you were bathing in fire and pureness and all that was good. But it felt like a child smushing two dolls together. 

He only hoped that with time, things would get better. And oh, how they certainly did. The bedchamber was full of soft sounds, and for every moan came ten laughs and raised brows. “Mm.. you sound like you are being murdered,” He murmured into your shoulder, and you smiled as you squeeze his hand. 

“And you sound like you’ve run 30 miles,” You responded as he panted onto your skin. 

“Oh, hush,” He smiled, gently biting your neck. 

“Little vampire,” You mumbled before he gently guided your face down to a pillow. He did not expect anything to come of your night of teasing and touch, but when six weeks had passed, he woke in the morning to you squirming from his arms. 

“It is too early for you to wake.” He grumbled. He had been an early bird before your marriage, before he was up into the early hours of dawn inside you, kissing you, teaching you High Valyrian as you tried to teach him Nyvia. 

“Yoane,” He spoke, and you shook your head. 

“Yo-awn-ee.” You repeated, and he tried once more.

 “Yoane,” He nodded, and you groaned into your hands.You were trying to teach him the words for love, your face pink with laughter. But as you rushed to the bathroom, your face took on an almost gray hue, and he found himself holding your hair in a big bundle as you spittled into the chamberpot, your belly soft and your nose sensitive. You were with child, or perhaps three or four, for when you reached your second trimester, you were a giant.

 “Mmm… you are like a dragon,” He mumbled as he kissed upon your stretched skin. 

“How so?” You asked softly, caressing his hair as his cheek pressed onto your belly. 

“You are going to lay a whole clutch. You must have three or four in here,” He marveled at the size of you, and you rolled your eyes.

 “I am telling your mother that you said that,” You responded, making his brows scrunch together.

 “You would not dare.” In the months of your marriage, Queen Alicent had grown quite attached to you. While she loved her son, she had always found him to be rather an intense man. She wasn’t afraid of him, no, but she never thought he would find marriage. Find joy. She thought he would grow old and become a knight or a philosopher, and she was quite pleased with you for bringing out these new parts of him. And so, if she learned of his comments of your size, she would beat him messy with a sock. When you were finally about to burst at the seams, you learned that there were things far more stressful than a wedding day. It was like everyone wanted to see your baby plop out, Alicent walking the room as they propped your legs off. 

“Would you mind leaving the room? This is a rather private matter,” Aemond spoke to his mother in a hushed voice, to which she gently shook her head.

 “And I am to be the grandmother of this child. I am close family, am I not? This is a huge deal for you, my youngest son having his first child!!” She gushed, and you shifted uncomfortably.

 “It may be hours before the baby arrives,” You groaned quietly, pushing the small wooden tools away from your legs. “I do not wish for too many to see my blood and my mess,” Your eyes held a certain fire, and your jaw clenched, and slowly her face filled with an understanding, nodding slowly. You were no Rhaenyra, and you were no enemy. You were her daughter in law, the wife of her youngest son. And so quietly, she left the room, leaving you to the midwives, the maesters, and your husband.

 “Perhaps you would like to leave, My Prince. It is not necessary for the husband to stay,” One of the Maesters spoke, to which you quickly shouted. 

“If you leave me I will ensure that you never get to hold the baby.” You said quickly. 

“I would not dream of it, my dearest,” He responded, coming closer so you could hold his hand. Several hours passed of loud noises and angry shouts, little crescent moons cut into his hand from your grasp. Child after child escaped your womb, until a whole batch of seven was swaddled. The midwives had to call for backup to tend to all the children, each of them around five pounds. It was a concerning miracle, and Aemond’s eye widened as he stared at all the squirming infants.

 “By the seven..” He murmured, quite literally. A child for every god. What a miracle it was. His heart fluttered with fear as he reached out to one of the infants, the only girl, her hand slowly curling around his finger. It was beautiful and scary all at once, like a comet scratching the sky. It was all so very real all of a sudden, his breath catching in his throat as his eye watered.

 “Are they all healthy?” You asked softly, sitting up slowly, your hands curling up. “Yes,” One of your handmaids quickly told you. 

“Small but mighty, they are all warm and crying,” She spoke, wiping sweat from your face. You smiled, taking a deep breath, your eyes slightly puffy as two of the babies were placed on your chest. Two of the boys, one with hair like your own, and the other with a head of snow, little curls still damp from birth. “Look at his little swirly wirlies.” You mumbled, and Aemond chuckled as he leaned over, two of the babies in his own arms. One with gingery Hightower hair, the other with hair like his own. What the litter you had. “How many girls?” You asked softly, reaching to gently take the blankets off, but Aemond answered you before you had to use your energy. 

“Just the one,” He said softly, placing her on your belly. The two of you laid in the bed for hours, covered in babies on every limb and surface. It was a mess, a loud swarm of little coos and crying. But neither of you had ever been happier. Aemond never thought he’d be a good father, but he sure could do his best.

Thank you to everyone who reads!! Feel free to send in requests :)

-BK ♡

[professional-jaywalker]

Avian Expectations

A small essay about the difference between the pop culture Bird and being a bird.

Being a bird is probably one of the most romanced identity. Being a bird means nothing, behavior wise, scientifically. Yet, being a bird portrays something very specific into people's mind.

Being a bird is freedom. It's effortless flight, belonging to the realm of air and never wanting to touch ground again. Being a bird is adventure, migration. A good half of movies about birds are about overcoming the thrilling dangers of going over entire continents in one year, the reward of seeing an exotic haven far from the cold. Sometimes, being a bird is being a strange endearing critter, voice mimicry, stealing shiny things, cuddling up and preening one's flock. Other times, being a bird is a sharp beak and sharper claws and being the Predator from Above, undefeated in the heights.

I've seen a lot of people question birds with that idea of a bird in mind. And, clearly, it can be true. One bird I know is migratory to her very core, the pull of Africa leading her to travel, irresistible. Another deeply intertwined with the drop of gravity as it's ultimate strength, entire biology built to master it.

But I cannot relate to people who go into questioning bird from the perspective of the Pop Culture Bird Homonculus, of this chimera of all the Cool Bird Traits. It seems like a fictional character to me, without all the little details that make being a bird real. Perhaps it is because I break all of these core traits.

I do not fly well, I glide when I must, and more often I run. I much prefer the ground. I am not migratory, and one part of being a roadrunner to me is Territory, and Surviving winter. I've never had the luxury of fleeing the cold, as much as i dislike it. I do not mimic all that much, I am solitary, I hunt by running along the grass. Barely bird, in the eye of the Being a Bird rules.

Rules say, then, i should not relate to being a bird. perhaps being a roadrunner for me would be akin to coyotes. Perhaps it would be akin to cats. But no, i do in fact relate to birds.

As it turns out, there is still a strong difference, for me, between the Being A Bird non-birds imagine and the actual one. I don't fly, i glide, i struggle to get to heights. A heavy sea eagle responded, saying how they felt flight as tool, from perch to perch, to scan for prey, too costly to waste in play.

I say that i hunt on foot, that i do not relate to the dive of the kestrel or the flight of the swift. A burrowing owl answer; saying they too prefer hunting grasshoppers from their height, sometimes perching but often just lurking around the grass.

I say i am alone, i do not have a flock, and a heron responds, why should you ? You are fine on your own.

I have met flightless cormorants, I have met penguins. On the contrary, I have met falcons, I have met corvids. The shapes of birdhood shift and change, but in the end, I tend to find someone for each things, be it bird like or not. Bird is a wide ground. Bird is a simplification, so that others can understand a flawed but easy view.

I am not A Bird, by pop culture definition. Yet i am very much a bird who relates to beings extremely far from me, behaviorally. honestly there's a point of no explanation. I share phantom feathers with them and beaks, but i couldn't be further from a hummingbird. It's a strange conundrum. So close yet so far, every species that talks about it. always slivers of Me-Truth, always things i just gloss over. a bird is not an animal, its a concept. i wish people would take that in account more before diving in it.

[indighostoast]

An incomplete timeline of Green’s posts because I wanted to prove a theory

Note: BTW, if you reblog this, I want you to know that this post will be continuously updated and edited as long as Green posts, so your reblogged version will be outdated unless you do it when the arc ends, and when that's when this will stop updating.

ALSO, AS A SIDE NOTE: I live in the U.S., so that may affect the days, this is the day where I live and when it's posted.

September 1st, 2024. Wild Trick Shots is uploaded. And Green creates his channel.

September 4th. Super Orange vs. Greenzilla uploads.

September 6th. Alan announces the series, though it’s called an arc. The Green channel is discovered by a good chunk of people.

September 7th. The first episode, Green’s Channel is released.

September 10th. Super Orange vs. Flaming Red & Freezing Blue is uploaded. Still fairly normal. Posts a pic on his instagram with his friends, no tags.

September 12th. Green posts a BTS pic on instagram about the making of (presumably) Super Orange vs. Greenzilla.

September 13th. Vlog Through Minecraft is uploaded. This is when things start to go downhill. The cow makes an appearance.

September 14th. Another pic from Green. About the BTS of Super Orange vs. Flaming Red & Freezing Blue. Still fairly normal with the tags.

September 16th. Green posts a YouTube short with him thanking the fans for the milestone. He’s wearing the orange sunglasses as seen in A Special Song. Also posts on his instagram about a “not motivational” quote. That’s when the tagging plague started.

September 17th. Community tab post. Everyone wants to be named the grasshoppers for some stupid reason.

September 18th. Green gets Tiktok, posts his first dance Tiktok, abandons his friends for a cow, and updates his YouTube banner and bio. (He’s wearing sunglasses) Oh yeah, this also happens to be my brother’s birthday. (Happy Birthday!)

September 19th. Alleged Twitter incident. Also I ate grass and cried in the bathroom while Green posted a TikTok of him dancing Gangnam style.

September 20th. Green posts an instagram post with pictures of his new studio. He’s still wearing the glasses. New tiktok with him… what? I have no idea at this point.

September 21st. Green posts a video reacting and reading our comments. Unfortunately, he doesn't eat the grass. We get confirmation that the Color Gang have been 'acting weird' lately. (He's still wearing Orange glasses, my theory is looking more and more likely by the day) ...A somewhat interesting comment about Yellow that is bound to hurt, even though it was a couple days ago it's discovered by the people now. (Varying interpretations on it that we may not have gotten an answer yet.)

September 22nd. Green posts a YouTube short announcing he has a Tiktok. Not much happening... so far. A tiktok featuring Blue dancing is posted. Might be prerecorded but we don't know. It could be recorded at any time. But his friends are still here! ...right?

September 23rd. New tiktok of Red dancing this time! It seems like he's going to have everyone dance, apparently. It's really really fun though, watching the goober. (I'll try not to let my personal biases get through this I swear-)

September 25th. Green makes a community QnA post (I haven’t read the questions) and we get Yellow dancing.

September 26th. Orange dancing! (I don’t have tiktok I’m just going off of everyone’s posts lol) New Green instagram post where he definitely wants to eat grass and uhh idk he’s feeling cute. (HE HAS THE GLASSES) Oh yeah a tiktok of him dancing on a red background, still working on that.

September 27th. Tiktok pov: the fanbase wants Green to eat grass and I don’t think the Becker Team anticipated that. (Orange Glasses still on…)

September 28th. Surviving on the Couch for 24 hours, and he does manage to complete the challenge, though it appears rather boring from the perspective of the audience. No one is there. (🕶️) New Blue tiktok in which they are dancing in what's seemingly Adobe Premiere, I could be mistaken though. Instagram post of where Green (most likely) might be eating grass soon. Or teasing a video about it.

September 29th. So Green eats grass. Yeah. He does. He throws it up afterward so does it count? (🕶️) New dance tiktok, and the fandom somewhat goes insane over grass. (no context provided)

September 30th. Instagram post with a picnic next to cherry blossoms, presumably he’s pulling a prank… OH NOOOOOO (🕶️)

October 1st. Yay first day of October! … NO PRANK VIDEO- Green dumps all of his friends in lava as a “totally funny prank” … yeah. no. (🕶️) The fandom is currently combusting. Posts a new tiktok video hours later, it appears he’s in the same place where he reacted to people’s comments. Dancing.

October 2nd. … I have literally nothing to say. Green’s instagram post with him “cutting off toxic influences and fake friends.” It’s Second’s birthday. (And Dark’s) AND THIS HAPPENS- (🕶️)

October 4th. Green attempts a reaction video: Try not to laugh challenge. He gets a sponsor from NORD VPN, and there’s an ofd explosion at the end. (🕶️)

October 5th. The 2nd episode, "IS GREEN OKAY!?" is released. Spoiler alert: nobody is okay. (At this point, it hits way too close to home.) Later, he releases a video really late (in my time) titled, REACTING TO MY FRIENDS HAVING FUN WITHOUT ME. It might be from the recycling bin, we don’t know. (🕶️)

October 6th. Green releases a home tour video. With no one. He might be hearing something coming from upstairs, and he can’t find his friends anywhere. Later, a tiktok of him pointing out five things he can see while lying in bed. Apparently, he’s still fueled on comments, but also lonely. (Sidenote: Happy birthday, Mom!)

October 7th. Green’s picnic isn’t going so well, is it? His friends are behind the camera! Right…? (🕶️) (Picture of Green eating a sandwich next to cherry blossoms)

October 8th. A tiktok of Green, he might’ve been wiping away his tears at the beginning. “It’s okay to be sad, I’m always sad.” … I have nothing to say. “Mental health checkup.” (where is everyone?) (🕶️)

October 9th. Green is taking a break. Instagram post with no tags, and with just a picture of the sun.

October 10th. Green announces on YouTube that he's taking a break. The video is simply titled that. (OH MY GOSH GUYS HE LOST THE GLASSES)

October 11th. Multiple clips are uploaded, including the deleted orange tiktok dances, a blooper reel, Yellow doing a flip, Green cheating in the couch challenge, Red presenting something offscreen, and the original (with lots of effects) Super Orange vs. Greenzilla

October 14th. It’s confirmed: Influencer arc ep 3 is releasing this Saturday, or the 19th. It’s also confirmed that other channels such as ItsMeYellow are all fanmade.

October 19th. Burnout releases. Episode three. I will not be spoiling it, but WOW. YEIADHSHDHAHASGBABSJSJQSJ

:3

[dyns33]

Firefly

I can't explain why but I like The Collector movies a lot, Asa Emory was a weird character, and so I needed to write something about him at least once

Y/N had met Asa Emory in college.

He already had this strange look and this fascination for insects, which explained his choice of studies. She had never met anyone who wanted to become an entomologist.

The other students were a little afraid of him, when they noticed him, because Asa was very discreet.

Y/N had noticed him, and she hadn’t been afraid of him. She had sat next to him in the library while he read a book about spiders. Her questions had initially seemed to irritate him, he was obviously not used to being spoken to, then he had been intrigued.

For a time, Asa had looked at her as if she were one of the insects he collected, but also as if she were trying to make fun of him. Yet he answered all her questions, adding more and more details and information.

He had no one in his life. No one to share your passion with. He didn't tell her all the details, but he had lost his parents and siblings when he was young.

This loneliness didn't seem to be a problem for him, but over time he got used to Y/N's presence, he looked forward to her questions, and he eventually grew attached.

“My firefly.” He greeted her as soon as he saw her, with a shy smile.

“Why a firefly ?” she asked, laughing softly.

“Because you are a light in my life.”

Y/N might have taken offense saying that a firefly was a tiny, fragile light that would die quickly, but knowing Asa's love of insects, she knew he wasn't going to compare her to a sun or stars. It was even a nice compliment on his part that he deigned to compare her to a Lampyris noctiluca.

Even when insulting people, he never used insect names. That would be an insult to the insects and he couldn't do that.

As with everything else in their relationship, it was Y/N who invited him on their first date. He accepted without seeming to understand what that meant.

The poor man seemed lost when she kissed him. But not necessarily disgusted.

“My firefly, you are the only human being who matters.” he admitted when she asked him if he ever thought about marriage, after more than two years together. "There are only a few insects that practice monogamy, but most die quickly, sometimes during the act of reproduction. But you know how much I hate anthropomorphism. I will be happy to spend my life with you."

Life with Asa was calm. Perfectly organized, structured, like its classification of all arthropod species.

After obtaining his diploma, he had no difficulty in being hired in the largest natural science museum in the city. His name quickly became known in his field.

His frequent nighttime outings and other prolonged outings could have been frightening for Y/N, but he always warned her in advance, preparing his schedule according to the pace of life of the insects he was looking for.

"Rumors are circulating about an unknown species of grasshoppers in a forest. I will probably be gone all weekend."

"Oh. You won't be here for my cousin's birthday ?"

"I forgot. Forgive me, my firefly."

“It doesn’t matter… It’s for your work, it’s important.”

He promised to better note the dates that were important to her, because even though he was very diligent in his work, Asa was a good husband. He didn't care at all about other humans, and therefore her family, but he always tried to please her when he could.

Even though he had a true admiration for spiders, Y/N saw him more as an ant. He worked hard, he never seemed tired, and he often brought home gifts to make up for when he missed an appointment, or simply because he wanted to see her smile.

"Ants don't bring back gifts for the queen, they do this to feed the colony. Plus they work in groups, I work alone."

“I didn’t compare myself to a queen.”

"You could, it was you who worked to create our home. There is no colony without a queen, and there would not be our home without you."

Their house was perfect, but empty. They didn't talk about having children. The subject didn't seem to appeal to Asa. After all this time, he did not talk about his family, visibly traumatized by their disappearance, and his aversion to others, in addition to his complicated schedule, were not compatible with the role of father.

There were his dogs. Perfectly trained hunting dogs, who were only adorable with their master and his wife. But especially with Y/N, who loved to cuddle them.

“My firefly, they have already eaten and they are not allowed to be inside.”

"Oh, Asa, please ! It's cold outside, and they were very good !"

“You mustn’t get them used to it or they will become fat and lazy.”

“Only for tonight, please !”

His colleagues said he was tough. A cold, distant, almost mean man. It was quickly decided that he would no longer participate in school visits, because he did not know how to talk to children or teachers.

But with Y/N, he was gentle. He refused her nothing. The dogs stayed inside, and not just that evening.

The times Asa told her no, it wasn't his fault. The excuses he found always contained the words 'I would like to, but the museum, my colleagues, the insects…'.

No, she couldn't accompany him on his hunts. She wouldn't like it anyway. It was cold, there was almost no time to sleep, and she might be bored.

“I’ll be with you, that’s the most important thing.”

".. .It's always a joy to be with you. That's also why it's better if you don't come. Then I have a reason to come home."

And he always came home, tired, but satisfied with his work, placing a kiss on Y/N's forehead like a ritual, before caressing her cheek while looking at her as if seeing her for the first time, his eyes wide blacks seeming to devour her entirely.

Then came the night when he came home late, very late, with strange injuries and terribly angry. Growling like an animal, he slammed the door so hard that it woke his wife. She found him trying to stitch himself up, mumbling and shaking.

She had never seen him like this. Asa was always calm.

Hesitantly, Y/N asked him if he was okay, and when he looked at her, she was scared for the first time since they met. For a moment, he looked like he didn't recognize her, and was ready to jump on her. Then he took on the features of her husband.

"… My firefly." he sighed, getting up with difficulty to kiss her. "I woke you up. I scared you. Forgive me. There was an incident. I lost several very precious, unique species. But it's my fault, you don't have to suffer my bad mood."

“Shouldn’t you go to the hospital ?”

"It's okay, I promise. Scratches, nothing I can't fix myself. Go back to bed, I'll be with you right away."

Nothing forced her to obey. Y/N could have insisted, asked questions, called an ambulance, but she returned to the room, staring at the wall unable to sleep. She didn't move when Asa came to her, holding her close, his face against her neck, whispering that he loved her.

They talked about the incident in the neighboring town the next day on television. An abandoned factory was ravaged by flames. But that wasn't the worst. It was the lair of a serial killer, whom they called the Collector.

The survivors spoke of horrible things. Of torture, of strange experiences. According to police, the man had died in the fire along with his guard dogs and most of the evidence there was nothing left to fear.

Y/N didn’t ask Asa where the dogs were. She tried not to think about it.

If he was waiting for her to ask him about it, he didn't show it. He didn't talk about what happened during the night, behaving as if everything was perfectly fine, and going to work like every day. He would come home, he would kiss her, and he would do it again. The difference was only that he went out less often.

According to him, the season was not good for hunting. And with the problem at his office, he needed a little time, to rest, to repair the place.

This excuse could have worked forever. Of course, Y/N could have called the museum and they would have confirmed that there had never been any serious incidents, but she didn't want to. She continued to lie next to her husband, letting him embrace her tenderly.

Then there was the man's visit. He seemed surprised to see Y/N, as he placed a large red trunk in the kitchen. Almost sad too. He was holding a gun.

"I imagine you don't know anything about it. I can let you go, if you promise not to warn him, and to let me do what I have to do."

"… I don't understand what to talk to you about."

"Your dear husband. The man who kidnapped and tortured me for weeks. You're lucky you didn't see his little collection. He's a monster. He needs to die."

No doubt the man was right. There had always been something strange about Asa, everyone had always known it and Y/N had been the only one to refuse to see it. She had built her life with him, her home. They had to share everything.

So even if he was right, she without thinking grabbed a knife when he turned, convinced that she had understood and she stuck it in his back, at the level of his heart.

When she realized what she had just done, it was too late. The man was lying in his blood in the middle of the room, his gun fallen next to him. Y/N touched nothing, unable to do anything but cry while trying to remember how to breathe.

Asa found her like this, sitting against a wall, when he returned from the office. He looked at his wife, then at the scene in the kitchen, before putting his things down to crouch down next to her.

Like every times, he held her face so that she could look at him and he could kiss her on the forehead. Then with one hand he wiped the blood from her cheek, massaging her neck with the other to calm her down.

"Tell me what happened. Are you hurt, my firefly ?"

"No… He… He wanted to kill you. He said… Oh, my god. He had a gun, I… I was scared… He said you… Asa …"

"Shh. I'll take care of everything. Come on."

Holding her close, he took her to the bathroom where he helped her undress and get into the shower, which he adjusted so that the water was perfect. Taking a bath would have done her good, but he had to leave her alone to clean up, and he didn't want her to fall asleep.

"I'll be back, my firefly. Just sit here, it's okay."

Y/N didn't know how long she stayed under the water, shaking and crying. Not as long as she thought. Her husband quickly returned to help her get up, dry off and put on pajamas.

Although she was not hungry, he insisted that she have tea and biscuits, as it was not good to keep an empty stomach after such a shock, before putting her to bed. He certainly put something in the tea for her to sleep.

The kitchen was immaculate the next morning, as if nothing had happened. The man, the weapon, the red trunk, everything had disappeared.

Unusually, Asa had prepared breakfast. He was always up before her, but he only had coffee, and he often left for work while she was still asleep, coming to place a kiss on her forehead to warn her.

His dark eyes didn't leave her for a second as Y/N chewed her pancakes with difficulty, one hand on the glass of orange juice that she couldn't drink. She looked everywhere except her husband.

Before the intruder spoke, she had already started to have doubts. Questions. Now everything was quite clear, and all that remained was to decide what she was going to do. Asa was also obviously waiting, sitting near her.

The options were vast. Run away, call the police, risk getting killed… Y/N finally managed to lift the glass of orange juice, while thinking of their meeting.

"… Aren't you going to be late for work ?"

"No. I took some time off to stay with you."

“But your collection… I understood that it would take a long time to rebuild everything.”

"It's not as important as you, my firefly. My mantis religiosa. My black widow." he purred, running a hand through her hair, his lips on her neck.

Asa loved spiders. It was a nice compliment, even if she received it because she had killed a man and agreed not to report him to the authorities. He didn't seem to notice her fear, one of the reasons she remained silent.

Only the other reason mattered. And by giving her all these names, like a transformation, he was telling her that he would not harm her, that he did not see her as prey, and that even if she decided to do so, she could devour him.

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

Stray Kids Partner They Need

Now continuing this series with Stray Kids and lets look at what type of partner these boys will need from the collective.

Bang Chan (Knight of Wands/Grasshopper Spirit/Life Purpose) This is cute! He would need someone with a lot of passion for life. Someone who takes chances and has little fears or just pushes past their fear. Someone fun and makes joy our of life. Someone who is willing to live out their passion. He wouldn't need someone who is stagnant and just lets life pass by and does nothing about it. They need to live a life of passion and purpose. He would need someone who takes chances to achieve their purpose in life. He would need someone who has goals and has a purpose in life. It is like they are always running towards something. He would not need someone passive, a very active person is what he needs. I hear activist as well.

Lee Know (2 of Cups/Skunk Spirit/Family) This is cute too. He would need someone who can be emotionally available for him. Someone who can connect with him on an emotional level, like two people coming together as unison. He seems to need a strong emotional bond with someone, so that person needs to provide that for him. He needs someone who knows their value and worth and maybe helps him see that as well. I heard he needs a wallflower, not sure what that meant, so of course girl looked it up. I heard of it, but wasn't sure what the true meaning is, but someone who looks a bit ordinary, someone different and isn't like the others, someone shy and awkward. Very interesting that this popped up. He would need a family-oriented person, someone he can start a family with. I say he takes dating seriously, so they would need to bring that energy. Also, someone he can bring to his family and vice versa. Family will play a strong role. Man, so many messages here. They got a lot to say for him lol I can just see him holding hands with his partner lovingly. He is too cute.

Changbin (9 of Swords/Fox Spirit/Forgiveness) Interesting bunch of cards here. He would need someone who understands his worries and fears. He may stress out a lot, so he will need someone to be understanding to that. This person may also deal with that as well. He would want someone who is able to think quickly with their worries and fears. Like they know how to maneuver through it. Even if they find things stressful. They are quick to find a solution. He would need someone who is a good problem solver, maybe being able to help him maneuver through his fears and worries. He would need someone fast on their feet and instinctual. He would need a person who is easy to forgive. I feel he may not be easy to date, so he may need someone who can forgive his flaws and shortcomings.

Hyujin (10 of Cups/Chameleon Spirit/Travel) He would need a family-oriented person. Someone very loving and supportive. Someone who has a strong family bond and lots of loving connections and support. He would need someone who can blend in and go with the flow. Someone who doesn't care so much about things in life or worries too much. They seem to casually go about life. I just see a very loving carefree person. Also, someone who doesn't care so much what others think. He would need a travel partner, or someone to go on this journey of life with him. Someone willing to travel to see him as well. He may need someone with a bit of an adventurous energy. I see this travel card as someone willing to go along this journey with him, as in relationship. The good and the bad, but always providing love and support.

Han (Judgment/Beaver Spirit/Answers) I see that Answers card and I just get someone who has the answers for him, maybe there is a lot he doesn't understand about life and relationships. He may need someone who can answer the many questions he has. He would need someone to help lift him or help him evolve as a better person. Someone who can free him from the restraints he may put on himself. To allow him to be more carefree. He would need someone to ground him, to keep him in check I hear. To create a solid foundation for him. Like a solid, stable person for him. It is like this person will be the answer to his prayers.

Felix (Page of Cups/Seahorse Spirit/Compassion) He may need someone with strong water placements. I say a Pisces. He would need someone to kind of keep him off the ground. To allow him to be more idealistic and imaginative at times. He needs someone who is very emotional. I say romantic and idealistic. Who can allow him to dream and be unrealistic from time to time. He would need someone patient. Not sure if he is slow to date or get romantically involved with someone, but he may need someone who takes their time to move forward, which is total water energy here. He would need someone very understanding and compassionate. Someone who cares for others deeply, an empathetic soul. I say like himself. Someone who tries to help others in need. Someone who may carry the weight of the world onto themselves. I am also getting someone who is observant and analyzes things, before doing anything as well. I don't see him being able to be with someone who does things too rashly and without thought.

Seungmin (The Tower/Dolphin Spirit/Beauty) This is an interesting group of cards I was not expecting. He would need someone who adapts to changes well. Who is able to rebuild on things and restructure their life when things go astray. He will need someone who can adapt to sudden changes. He would need someone who can see the full spectrum of things. To see both sides to a situation. A person who thinks in a grey tone, rather than black and white thinking. They can see both sides to a story. He would need someone who see their beauty in their flaws and is proud of their appearance no matter what. They don't have to be stunning, but to own up to what they look like regardless. They would need to have confidence and self-love. This was an interesting message.

I.N (8 of Swords/Whale Spirit/Commitment) He would need someone to help him get out of his mind and to help free him from the constraints he may put on himself. To help him understand he is free to do what he wants if he allows it. I am also getting someone who is able to hold themselves back when need be. He would need someone who trust things will work out. I say someone who doesn't stress too much about things. He may need someone with strong faith and maybe spirituality. Someone who may believe and out of the world stuff, someone who dives into deep topics of interest about the world and life and understand there is more than we know. He would need someone who can commit and be loyal to him. Someone who is willing to go the long haul. Also, someone who keeps their word. The more I read for him, the more I like him honestly. He is cute.

Okay, this was fun, sometimes they make it hard for me to read for them, but topics like these I get tons of messages lol

[snowfieldstories]

In Life and Death [Chapter 9]

Kim Dokja x Reader/Original female character

<< Series masterlist

a/n: I feel like I say this every time...but this is such an emotional whirlwind of a chapter. It's kind of obscene how much I managed to pack into this one (7.6k 😭)

Warnings: strong language, brief strong violence

Summary:

In which a reader finds herself tossed into the pages of her favorite web novel after her untimely death. A novel of a novel within reality. It's a reader's dream, right? Well, this reader vows to bring the right epilogue to her beloved character, Kim Dokja. She will give him the happiest of endings. Or she will die trying.

⚠️MAJOR SPOILERS FOR ORV WEB NOVEL AND MANHWA!!!!⚠️

Episode V. Chapter 9 — Reapers and Revelations

I walked beside Dokja on the way back, peeking at him every so often. He was deep in thought, but then so was I—or rather, lost in thought because his robe was gaping open at the chest and it was incredibly distracting. I'm swooning over a patch of skin like some medieval male seeing bare shoulders for the first time.

As if hearing my thoughts, Dokja suddenly blinked and tightened the closure of the robe. Damn it.

"You're back!"

A dusty Gilyoung and Namwoon greeted us eagerly, the younger boy bouncing around the returned group like a grasshopper. Namwoon took one look at Dokja and stopped dead in his tracks.

"You." He pointed an accusing finger at Dokja, looking rapidly between the two of us. "What the fuck—"

"Language," I said absently, more confused than anything.

"—the FUCK happened?! Where are your clothes?" he shrieked. Dokja made the mistake of glancing at me, equally baffled by the reaction and hoping that I would have an answer. It was instead a sort of confirmation for the Delusional Demon; Namwoon's expression shifted into horror. "D—did you two really fu—u—?"

The word stuck in his throat, like he couldn't bear to voice the thought aloud. Namwoon ran up to me, lifted my arms, and inspected my clothes, hair, and skin. He prodded a red welt on my arm and cried out, "This—!"

"That's a burn," I said drily. "You fucking bonehead."

His anger was back on Dokja. "You burned her??"

I forwent the usual forehead flick and slapped his cheek, then grabbed his face roughly. "Kim Namwoon, shut the hell up. We were with a large group of people the whole time and fighting a dragon...do you really think there was time to do something like that?"

There was a silence as he processed my words. His eyes widened in understanding.

"Ohh. Shaw-rry," Namwoon tried to apologize through the squish of his cheeks.

[The constellation 'Demon-like Judge of Fire' mournfully wishes it were true.]

Yeah, I'm sure she did. Once again, I was left questioning the holiness of such a thirsting and voyeuristic archangel.

I looked back at Namwoon. He was closing his eyes in rapid, absurd motions, trying to bat them like some remorseful damsel. It only came across as disturbing.

"I've been too lenient with you," I muttered, and shoved Namwoon away, hopping up onto the platform.

"Angel-noona, I'm sorry!" I heard him wail behind me. Then I heard him say, "I should have known...angel-noona would never get with you."

He yelped as he was, presumably, smacked upside the head.

Delusional bonehead, indeed.

"Sangah!"

She turned. "Yeona-ssi!"

"What the hell happened here?" asked Heewon behind me.

Sangah had dust and soot on her face, and the station was scorched beyond belief; tile was chipped away from gunfire and blood streaked every surface.

While they talked, I miraculously found my backpack under a pile of rubble. I grabbed the pair of men's clothes (of course, I had expected to need them for this very reason) and handed them to Dokja. "Hopefully they fit."

He furrowed his brow. "They're men's clothing," I emphasized.

"...Thank you."

Gilyoung detached himself from Dokja's robe and ran over to me with a smile. Namwoon moped in the back as I inspected Gilyoung for injuries.

When I looked back up, Dokja had already pulled on the pants and shirt. Shit, I missed it. Perhaps I should have appreciated his lack of clothing more when I had the chance.

One of the Dongmyo people pointed at the opposite tracks, trembling. "T—the apostles!"

Four severed heads were lined up like ducks in a row. I curled my hand around Gilyoung's shoulder to turn him away, but he remained unbothered, as if the heads were nothing more than pieces of rubble from the fight.

Another head was kicked into our line of sight. Yoo Joonghyuk emerged from the darkness, propping a boot on top of it.

"It's you! You screwed up my plan, didn't you?"

Han Sooyoung, the plagiarist.

She (or, he, at the moment) began feuding with Dokja over her foiled plans and the Book of Revelations. I watched her and zoned out.

Should I acknowledge that I recognized her? I couldn't see the drawbacks, except it would make her aware of my exceptional knowledge; it might put her more on edge around me, shifting her wary focus off of Dokja for the time being. That would be good.

Yes. Perhaps it was better for Han Sooyoung to view someone as a greater threat.

"Kill him!"

"If you really know the future then let me ask you one thing." Yoo Joonghyuk flicked his blade up to Dokja's neck as he spoke. Dokja held up a hand to restrain our outraged party members. But I was no mere member of the party.

[You have activated the exclusive skills, 'Fleet of Foot Lv. 6' and 'Sacred Light Lv. 6'.]

Joonghyuk's wavy hair rustled as I appeared behind him, holding a dagger of light to the small of his back. Dokja went slack-jawed as he looked at me.

"You had better be bluffing," I spoke directly into the regressor's ear, barely a whisper. "Regressor or not—I will kill you if you maim him."

Too many things from the novel had changed already. I would not take the risk that Joonghyuk's decision not to slit Dokja's throat here was certain, even if it was originally.

"What? What is it? What happened?" Han Sooyoung questioned their sudden silence.

I gave Joonghyuk a prodding poke with the blade's tip, and his exhale was halfway to a growl; from the sudden concern on Dokja's face, the regressor's expression must be approaching murder.

Then, Joonghyuk said stiffly to the head, "I will ask you this. Will I kill this guy or not?"

"Yes, you will kill him! Come on, do it! Kill—"

The sword lowered a fraction. I caught Joonghyuk's ankle just before he stepped on her, and leaned down in a way that my lips couldn't be read. "Listen up. I know you, plagiarist. You can't hide from me even in your stupid avatar."

"Who—?!"

"Hush. We'll see you soon, but until then, behave yourself. Han Sooyoung."

"WH—hmpmph—!" I shoved her face down in the dirt, prepared to crush it with my hand. Instead I tapped the black boot next to me. "Ah, Joonghyuk, would you mind...?"

For a second, I thought he might kick my face into a crater. But then he crushed the plagiarist's head under his boot. "Too mouthy."

Something told me he meant more than just the avatar.

I paused in my glare to process his death date with my shinigami eyes. He had an indefinite line under his name, like Dokja. What?

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' is intrigued by your words.]

[300 coins have been sponsored.]

Hm, nice.

I popped up next to Joonghyuk with a sly smile. "Thanks! I didn't want to get brains all over me."

Joonghyuk's jaw twitched. He eyed the bandages around my neck, and his mouth set in a hard line. The next moment, he was gone.

"Yeona—" Dokja blinked "—uh, Yoo Joonghyuk? Hey, Yoo Joonghyuk!"

Dokja ran after him. I inspected the chunks of avatar head. Well, that should be enough to set her on my tail. She hadn't been able to see me, so it would take some time for her to pick me out, but the provocation was there.

"I need to learn that," said Heewon when I rejoined them on the platform. "Is it a skill?"

"What, my 'Fleet of Foot'? Yeah, it is." Though the skill was available for a high price with Platinum access of the Dokkaebi Bag, I had gained it after completing a scenario for Hermes of Olympus in the last round. I nodded my head at the slumped figure propped against a round bench. "Is that Lee Jihye?"

"Yes. She was knocked out during the fight with the apostles," said Sangah.

"Are there any clean blankets we could give her?" I asked. Then I spotted a familiar—unsullied—embroidered blanket now rolled up in Gilyoung's arms. "Why don't we use that one?"

A fire burned in Gilyoung's eyes as he shook his head rapidly. "Noona, no!"

"Gilyoung-ah, why..."

"It's a gift. From you. I won't let her touch it." A gift from me? Is that what Persephone told him?

Well, Gilyoung clearly held a special attachment to the item, so I didn't fight him on it. He grew suspicious as I drew near. "Here, keep it safe in this."

I offered the black backpack, nearly empty save for a few loose items and energy bars. Gilyoung's face lit up as he smiled, stuffing the blanket in and slinging it over his shoulders eagerly. "Thank you, Yeona-noona!"

I smiled as he walked around, testing it out. Sangah next to me, with an air of melancholy, said, "He looks like he's ready for his first day of school."

There was an unexpected prickling in my eyes. Lee Gilyoung should be preparing to go to school; he shouldn't be fighting for his life every day in scenarios, and he shouldn't have to be raised by strangers in a world as ruined as this one.

A lone child amongst mostly adults. We need Shin Yoosung and Yoo Mia with us.

I noticed Dokja return and huddle with the two Dongmyo prophets to discuss spreading the plagiarized novel. Kim Namwoon inched over to me, hovering until I acknowledged him with a raised eyebrow.

"Is that why you made me stay behind?" asked Namwoon. "The dragon?"

I gave him a careful look. "I thought you would be the best form of protection here in Chungmuro."

"Oh, yeah—!"

Namwoon's curiosity was diverted as he began boasting about his "unmatched strength" and "really fucking cool skills." I reminded him about swearing, even though Gilyoung wasn't within earshot.

[The constellation 'Abyssal Black Flame Dragon' complains that incarnation 'Kim Namwoon' is only as cool as his sponsor.]

"Of course, you already know I'm the best, angel-noona!" he said. I gave a noncommittal sound in response, and he rambled out a few more haughty statements before ambling off, satisfied as a cat having just caught a river fish.

"You're very good with children."

I jumped. I hadn't realized Yoo Sangah was still there. "Oh, um, no. Not really."

Sangah pursed her lips in amusement. "Did you care for children before? Your own? Ah," she smacked, "you're pretty young. Perhaps your family, then?"

I felt something within me dim.

"...I don't know." The brutally honest words hung in the air. Sangah's forehead creased, apologetic, but I continued, "It's fine, I just—don't have anyone. No family. And definitely no kids of my own."

Even with my attempt at lightheartedness, the conflicted look on Sangah's face remained. I squeezed her shoulder with a small smile before stepping away.

I was glad that Sangah seemed to be regaining her morale. Odd as it was to say, it was probably leading a battle against the apostles that helped the most.

But...thinking of Sangah and those recent events reminded me of something.

I wandered around the station, between small crowds of people and rows of sleeping lumps against walls, searching. My eyes picked over unimportant names and death dates. And then I saw him.

I set my shinigami eyes on the hook-nosed bastard: 'Kang Doyeon.'

Bingo.

By the way, I wasn't completely lying when I said I wouldn't kill people here. I really wouldn't use names from Chungmuro—except one.

This Kang Doyeon was a piece of shit, a cowardly snake rather than a person, and I was merely disposing of the trash. To be honest, he probably expected it of me. I wasn't going to take the risk that he might attack me himself—or worse, someone else, like Sangah or Gilyoung.

Kang Doyeon had conspired to kill me. I wasn't going to let that slide.

Angels of death deliver vengeance, do they not?

Perhaps I also held a teensy little grudge over his message-reading ability. I was certain it was the same 'Nosey Parker' skill, just like that fucker in the train car of my last round.

This was only a proper retribution, overall.

I hummed as I found my way back to the central platform.

"Yeona."

It was Dokja who called me. I went over to him, glancing at the furiously typing Dongmyo guys. "Yes?"

"Will you read this over once it's finished?" I sent him a questioning look. "You're more of a writer than we are, so it's best if you check it."

My eyes widened, not only that Dokja had assumed I knew exactly what they were doing over here, but because—"How did you know I write?"

"You're always doing it on your phone. You're writing a story, aren't you?"

I was stunned into silence. I didn't realize that Kim Dokja observed me that closely, watching me do trivial things like tapping away at my smartphone every so often.

"Y—yeah," I managed. "I am."

He nodded, fixating on the laptop screen once more. "Good. Then you can improve this one when we're done."

I sat nearby along the wall, unsure of whether to feel flattered or unnerved. Right now there were definitely a bit of both floating around inside me.

One of the Dongmyo men looked over at me with an odd, puzzled expression. Well, I wasn't a character from the original novel. "You...are you a prophet, too? Where did you get off?"

Dokja glanced at us sharply. I smirked at the man. "I didn't get off."

"Whaa—?" The other man paused typing.

"I'm a regressor."

"Huh?!" he shrieked. They were both under Dokja's control anyways, so it didn't matter if they knew. "H—how...?"

"Shut up, we don't have time." Dokja jabbed the loud one and he got back to typing.

The first stared at me, a bit awestruck. "So, are you and Yoo Joonghyuk—?"

"I said shut up," said Dokja fiercely.

They were cowed back into silence, with nothing but the rhythmic sound of typing filling the air.

Eventually, they finished a rough draft and passed along the laptop to me. A seriously rough, rough draft. I cursed under my breath and began correcting, rewriting, and filling in the blanks. God, can they really not spell "regression"?! What happened to autocorrect?

The three began to chat as I worked. I paused at Dokja's sudden muttering.

"Characters..." Dokja looked over at Sangah and Gilyoung for a time. His face softened as he was unable to read their skills. Then he turned to me, unfazed that I was already watching him. He peered into me.

And that cryptic look of his returned. Something cold and hard dropped in my stomach.

But then Dokja smiled—it's too sharp, I thought—and asked me to keep editing the novel so they could release it soon.

After a moment's hesitation, I did. An hour later I passed him the story.

"Wow," he said, eyes roving the text in appraisal. "It's...readable."

"Don't sound too impressed," I grumbled, flexing my aching fingers.

"No—okay—it might even be enjoyable, except it's still an awful plagiarism, even if we wrote it," said Dokja quickly. "But as an homage, you turned it into something remarkable. Your writing is, not the copied story..."

I laughed. "I get your point."

Dokja blew out an exhale, as if relieved. He eyed me curiously. "I'd like to read what you're writing too, someday."

My expression was immediately complicated. I wanted Dokja to read my story one day, but then...perhaps not, if we never reached the assumed point in our relationship that I'd experienced from his visit in the last round. I dug my toe in the ground. "Maybe someday."

Dokja weighed the laptop in his hand. "Thank you for doing this, Yeona. I think it will sell much easier now that you've given it quality."

"You're welcome," I said, my face feeling warm all of sudden.

Now that the most pressing thing was taken care of, it was time for me to finish my own personal challenge.

I passed a still-unconscious Jihye—"Stop balancing rocks on her face, Namwoon."—and now-sleeping Gilyoung, until I was perched against a column in a way that hid me from the general eyes of the station members.

[A constellation that likes to hunt commends your still-hunting method.]

Kang Doyeon was smart. He hovered around groups of people that could notice him, but not include him in their activities so he wasn't forced to interact with anyone. People were leery of him—but also aware.

I was patient.

He finally got up to use the toilet, and I activated my speed skill to zip past him in the empty hallway, snatching him up as I went. I hurled him into an empty room and slammed the door behind us.

"You knew I would come eventually, Kang Doyeon."

Whatever he had been about to say was strangled in his throat as he paled. "How," he croaked, "how do you know my name?!"

I leveled him with a withering stare. "You think even if I didn't know your name, I wouldn't still kill you?"

At the word "kill", his pallor sickened into something grey.

[The constellation 'Abyssal Black Flame Dragon' rubs his hands eagerly at the prospect of blood.]

[The constellations of revenge are delighted at this turn of events.]

[Some constellations are wary of your merciless attitude.]

I clapped a bolt of sacred light over his mouth before he could scream. His limbs were shackled together soon after.

"Alright, let's get this over and done with," I said while typing.

[The individual 'Kang Doyeon' is rejected for reaping.]

[Individual is protected by the 'Guardian Angel']

The rage that took over me was indescribable.

This stupid, fucking little hidden scenario was giving me such ridiculous grief. It didn't even show up in the original novel, nor in Dokja's Ways of Survival; it should not be such a thorn in my side.

How pathetic it would be to die at the hand of a mere hidden scenario before the fifth main one had even begun.

I stepped outside the room to throw my tantrum in solitude, then I went still.

Wait. Even if I died, I would regress, would I not? 'Pinpoint Regression' was different, but no one said I couldn't point my pin towards my own future regression series...

I shook my head to clear the thought. No, it wasn't guaranteed. And worse—Dokja might not exist properly even in future regressions of this world-turn.

Kim Dokja did not exist in any world but this one. Not as he is now, anyways. Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint was pretty clear on this matter (unless I was reading it wrong, which I didn't think I was).

Under no circumstances was I going to risk losing a chance to bring my Kim Dokja his happiest ending. And I didn't want to abandon my people here, either.

Footsteps brought me out of my mind.

Gong Pildu rounded the corner and only needed one look at my current emotional state to understand. "The hidden scenario," he said. "You got a bad message?"

I dragged my hand across my face and grit out, "Today's reaping was denied. I'm getting really fucking tired of that happening."

Gong Pildu stared at me hard, strangely so, and I was immediately on guard. Was, perhaps, Gong Pildu...?

"You really are the Reaper," he said, surprised.

My temper flared. "Of course I am! I declared it yesterday, didn't I?"

"I—well, I didn't know. I thought maybe you were bluffing when you said you were," said Gong Pildu sheepishly. "So I guarded you and that bastard this time. I figured whoever reacted poorly to it would be the real Reaper."

His sincerity gave me pause. I watched as he rubbed his neck in shame.

There was a beat of silence as we both pondered. Gong Pildu's face darkened suddenly. "Choi Yeona, please forgive my actions."

I drew back in shock as he got down on his knees, pressing his forehead to the floor in a bow. "What...?"

"I've wronged you in many ways. I didn't mean to, but now I see that I have." He took in a deep breath. "Hwang Si-woo was part of my Landlord Alliance. I didn't like him, but he did good work for me. I—I shouldn't have told him my role in the scenario. When this whole Reaper business came about, he asked one day if I'd guard him and someone else with my Angel status. I didn't think anything of it at the time, so I did."

"..."

"It was before I thought you might be the Reaper. I've never wanted to harm you, my girl."

I looked at Gong Pildu for a while. I harbored no anger towards him over this revelation—in fact, I felt rather sad for him. It seemed that his mind was still confusing me with his love for his daughter.

"Please stand up."

He lifted his head slowly, and I helped him back up to his feet. I looked him square in the eye. "Of course, I forgive you. I can tell you're a good person, Pildu-ssi."

Gong Pildu, the true Guardian Angel of the scenario, wasn't trying to kill me. He didn't mean any harm.

If only I had trusted Gong Pildu from the start.

I wrapped his hands with mine, acknowledging my mistake. "I should have been more honest with you from the beginning."

"No, I'm sorry. I should have just asked you, Yeona-girl, trusted your words. It was a daft idea; I thought, by knowing the truth, I could defend you better this time..."

Gong Pildu was a good man.

"I'll be sure to include you in my plans in the future."

"Don't worry about it."

Gong Pildu squeezed my hands, the corner of his eyes reddening. Again, I felt he wasn't really seeing me. I wondered if these people would only ever see me as a replacement for someone else: a lost daughter, an absent mother-figure, a failed protector, a helpless younger sister, a sacrificing best friend... There were more than enough possible roles for me to play, if they desired.

Maybe instead of creating my own story, I could never be anything more than a filler in someone else's.

It was a depressing thought.

But, I wasn't one to dwell on such things when there were more pressing issues at hand. After speaking with Gong Pildu, I now wondered something else: if he was the Guardian Angel, then who exactly was the Angel of Judgement?

Hwang Si-woo must not have known, because he had sought to incite the entire station, probably hoping that the remaining Angel would reveal themselves and pass judgement on me.

Actually, I was surprised it hadn't already happened. Dokja's exercise of representative's control (and possible punishment) must be enough to hold them off.

...Until I could figure it out, or tomorrow passed with no issues, I wasn't in the clear.

I conferred with Gong Pildu and came to a solution.

There were sixteen hours left on my daily Reaper timer. Plenty of time—except the actual hidden scenario ended in five. Gong Pildu's Guardian Angel protection over Kang Doyeon and I only lasted for three more hours.

A two hour window wasn't bad, but still close enough to leave me uncomfortable. I was determined to use Kang Doyeon for the final day of reaping, and so I would wait until the protection was lifted, use his name, and be freed of this scenario shackle.

I set an alarm on my phone. Then I opened my Bank of Lady Fortune account and spent 150 luck on my situation. It seemed excessive, but I was a little on edge right now.

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' respects your plotting!]

[500 coins have been sponsored.]

We bound Kang Doyeon in regular rope, ensuring his mouth was gagged so he couldn't bite his tongue and suffocate on his own blood before I could use him, and left him in the room. Gong Pildu swore to keep watch over him for the remaining time.

[The constellation 'Abyssal Black Flame Dragon' is greatly displeased at the lack of bloodshed.]

"Oh, go play rocks with Kim Namwoon," I griped at him.

[The constellation 'Abyssal Black Flame Dragon' says that he isn't a child!]

"...You said it, not me."

[The constellation 'Prisoner of the Golden Headband' cackles.]

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' smirks at the 'Abyssal Black Flame Dragon'.]

[4,000 coins have been sponsored.]

There was an embarrassed silence from the chuuni constellation, which made me grin.

"...Aren't you taking it too easy?"

"I also need to sleep."

I caught the end of the conversation as I returned; Heewon seemed baffled as Dokja curled up on the ground. Sangah placed a blanket over him and saw me. "Oh, Yeona-ssi. We're going to take turns watching over him, if you want to go first?"

I nodded and settled next to Dokja. He was already fast asleep.

The 'Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint' skill must have already kicked in, because his face twitched. For a time, I rested my chin on my knees and watched him.

But the wait was making me antsy—the hidden scenario still on my mind—so I glanced at my phone. Around two hours left.

Watching Dokja "sleep" helped calm me: his steady breathing, the way I could see his eyes rolling back and forth underneath his eyelids. I brushed a hand across his tensed brow.

Two blue messages stopped my heart in its place.

[You have been judged as the Reaper.]

[You are protected by the Guardian Angel. Judgement will not face penalty unless there is a second input by the Angel after protection has lifted.]

"Oh," my voice broke, frail and quiet.

Truly, I possessed invaluable luck. If I hadn't used my luck, would I have...?

There was a dull, buzzing sensation throughout my body and my head felt light. Already I had come near death twice in this scenario.

"Oi, Choi Yeona..." Heewon stretched her arms overhead as she strolled up to me.

Most of our companions were resting. Jihye was now gone—something about retrieving a precious item from the Daehan Cinema, according to Heewon—and Heewon suggested I rest too while I could. "Hey, you don't look so good. Are you sick?"

"...No." I cleared my throat. "I'm fine, I'll stay up with you."

Heewon shrugged and slid down against the wall. She glanced at my hand, still on Dokja, and I retracted it. Her grin sent shivers down my spine. "What are you two, anyways?"

"We're companions," I said blandly.

"Oho, but you're not companions in the same way as all of us."

"Jung Heewon..."

She held up her hands. "Alright, alright. Say, what did you do before all of this? Your fighting skills are scary good."

I blinked at the quick change in subject. "Data analysis."

"Huh?" Heewon gaped at me. "There—there's no way! You did kendo or something, right?"

"Nope."

"Damn." She blew a piece of hair out from her face. "I'm jealous. Maybe you should teach me sometime."

It made me smile. "That could be fun."

Heewon looked at me for a moment, like she wanted to say something else, but then smiled back and leaned her head against the wall. "This world is batshit crazy now," she mumbled.

I shifted on the ground. "What did you do before all of this, Heewon?"

She took my casual use of her name in stride, and she began telling me animatedly about her bartending job and the nutcase patrons that the place attracted. Heewon had me gasping and giggling at her stories the remainder of the time until Dokja began to stir.

"...and I kept pouring him water shots that he insisted burned worse than tequila—oh! Sleeping Beauty awakens without a kiss. Well, maybe not beauty..."

Dokja's eyes opened and noticed us.

Heewon shot me a sly grin and said, "I'll be going then. By the way, don't come up with any more stupid plans in the meantime, got it?"

"Okay?" I was confused, but waved her off as she left with an air of mystery.

Dokja gave me a long, pensive look as he sat up. Then, it was like something settled in him, a resolve that hardened at last. "Did you cry when I burned?"

What the actual hell?? Where was that coming from?

It was a rather harsh question. Perhaps I hadn't grieved, but witnessing his death again was difficult all the same. Even knowing of his impending revival hadn't been enough to quell the fear in my heart.

I faked nonchalance. "I didn’t cry for you."

"Not even a single tear?" he said casually. "So callous. It's almost like you weren't even surprised at my death."

"Of course I wasn't! I'm an all-knowing regressor."

"…You really are."

His tone dropped, and it made my breath catch. This was—

"Jung Heewon asked me if we'd planned it. My death. She said you seemed ready for it."

There was a ball of anxiety anchored in my stomach. "Well, this isn't my first round."

"But is it really your second?"

I was silenced.

"You knew I would need a solar power bank, and you knew I would get Unbroken Faith, you knew I wanted to take Chungmuro, and you knew I would die, revive, and defeat the dragon." His stare was unblinking. "Yeona, if I wasn't around in your last world-turn, then how did you know all of these things?"

Fuck. Fuck—I did tell him that he had died early on in my last round. Why the hell was I so careless?

"Would you believe me if I said I was also a prophet?" I asked weakly.

The raised brow he gave me was unyielding.

I wasn't ready for this conversation. Not now. Probably not ever.

Honestly…I had suspected this might happen. Perhaps not so soon—but Kim Dokja was not stupid. I had noticed his fleeting suspicion, my other slips of the tongue with information, his previous distance. He wasn't the type to let something like that go forever; I was becoming an increasingly unknown variable, a considerable threat to someone who operated entirely on preexisting knowledge from a book.

I knew this, because I was very much the same.

My heart thumped like a rabbit's as I contemplated. Was I about to have my "Divorce Arc" moment? No, maybe worse than that since I was overdependent and unrequitedly attached to Kim Dokja. He didn't need me in his story the way I needed him in mine. 

Should I lie, and say I had lived countless regressions of this timeline? It would certainly lead to Dokja asking more questions. The web of lies would only grow more tangled and, eventually, I'd still have to tell him about the novel. He might really hate me then for such a twisted betrayal of his trust.

No…I owed him the truth. A companionship with him would never work in the long term if I didn't.

I fisted the material of my pants to stop the trembling in my hands. "I am a regressor now, ever since my last round, but before that I was a reader. And this world was my story.

"In my first life, I found a web novel. O—Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint." Dokja startled at the name of the skill he'd just been using. "It was the story of a 28-year-old salaryman so obsessed with a long novel that he read it through until the end. And then that novel became reality. I read this story. Over and over again—I was rather obsessed myself. Like the man." He listened with rapt attention. "One day, I died in that life. And, somehow I was given a second chance, a fulfilled wish, to journey to the novel that I loved so dearly. To reach the ending with the ones I loved."

"The characters."

Dokja's expression was unreadable. I shook my head. "I don't see you all as characters. I can't."

Well, perhaps I did refer to them as such in my mind sometimes, but only for distinction. In my heart, Kim Dokja, Yoo Joonghyuk, Yoo Sangah, the others...all of them were more real to me than any of those faceless people from my first life.

My nails dug into my palms as I waited. A pressure was building up, but I couldn't tell if it was emotion prepared to burst from Dokja or suffocate inside of me. Dokja crossed his arms and I glued my eyes to the ground.

Then he laughed.

It was a sound of disbelief, a cackle of incredulity, and when I dared to look at his face he was smiling. "So that's why 'Character List' glitches out on you."

That reflective glass I'd sensed, the one it seemed was holding the last of Kim Dokja's reservations about me, shattered.

Breathing became much easier. Still, my brow furrowed. This is odd.

"I wasn't expecting—no, I should have. It makes the most sense. And I can't help but believe it." He cocked his head at me with a snort. "All those times I couldn't read someone because they weren't a character…I was a character myself all along."

"Dokja, no! I swear I meant it when I said I don't see you as a character!" I grabbed his hands, urgent. "You must remember, I've spent years in this reality already—a full life-turn. And I can hardly recall what it meant to exist in my first life. This story is my life now. You are my story…or, maybe I've become the story with you."

My cheeks warmed as I realized how romantic the words might sound. I released his hands.

Dokja hummed in thought. "So you're in a similar situation as me. Only you came first."

"I guess?"

"It's a bit confusing. Your novel is of my story, you said? But you regressed here?"

I grimaced. "Yeah. I read the web novel in my first life, then transmigrated into—"

I couldn't reveal the exact turn I came from. Not that I was constantly worried about ripple effects (let's be real, my entire existence from day one caused monsoon waves of repercussions), but I knew that certain vital pieces of information needed to be revealed at critical moments, and by certain people. I was not one of those people.

"I transmigrated into a world-turn not from the novel's main timeline, then I followed Yoo Joonghyuk into his regression here."

"Not your own?"

"My stigma is ‘Pinpoint Regression.’ I can latch onto another regressor and choose to join them in their world-turn."

Dokja was confused. "But, didn't you introduce yourself to him?"

"Ah, yeah," I said. "My stigma retains my own memories of the previous turn together. It doesn't guarantee his."

It wasn't a very solid truth, and certainly didn’t make sense, but the influx of new information must have been overloading Dokja's brain because he only nodded, a bit dazed. 

Then, for the first time, his mouth slipped into a deep frown.

"Yeona, why did you follow Yoo Joonghyuk into his turn? Are you two, perhaps…"

I choked on my own spit. An intense feeling of déjà vu washed over me. "No. We're just old companions." Dokja didn’t seem convinced, so I doubled down. "We weren't like that. Aren't. I...followed him because I knew you would be here."

It was rather embarrassing to say out loud, but I didn't want a single misunderstanding on that front. 

"I told you that you died in my last round, and that's true, but the whole truth is that you don't properly exist in any round but this one. This 'you' is a singularity." He seemed at a loss for words, so I added, "I don't quite understand how it works either."

A thought struck me.

"Dokja, the Fourth Wall…your barrier isn't shaking at any of this?"

"You know—? Right, of course you do." Dokja put a hand to his head. "It's been strangely quiet this whole time."

Interesting. I had no plausible explanation, so I didn't comment any further on it.

In fact, I was relieved. I didn't want to cause him any mental grief just because I had revealed my circumstances.

I remained quiet as Dokja became absorbed in his thoughts. It was a lot to process, and I was grateful that he was taking it so exceptionally well. It took a special kind of person; I was fortunate that that person was Kim Dokja, the sole reader of all of TWSA.

Perhaps he was truly the only person in the world who could.

At last, he looked up at me, as though studying me fresh over. And to him, I was fresh—a new and undiscovered story. An entirely different kind of person than he believed me to be. I only hoped his regard of me hadn't changed with it.

His scrutiny then became too much, and I itched for a distraction.

[Many constellations complain about the filtering!]

[The constellation 'Demon-like Judge of Fire' begs to know what you and 'Kim Dokja' discussed!]

[The constellation 'Abyssal Black Flame Dragon' is bored by all of this talk.]

[The constellation 'Prisoner of the Golden Headband' is wondering about your conversation.]

[The constellation 'God's Lone Soul Courier' inspects the nourished bond.]

What the hell was Azrael doing here? Well, at least he wasn't licking my soul this time.

"The constellations are paying close attention," I commented.

"Too bad for censorship," Dokja responded with a sardonic lift of his mouth. "Bihyung is probably ready to tear me apart for the inconvenience."

"Probably so."

We looked at each other, two readers aware of the other's existence. Then Dokja's smile softened into something genuine.

"Yeona, you're a stereotypical isekai story," said Dokja.

I made a noise in my throat. "At least I didn't reincarnate as a villainess."

Dokja laughed, surprised. "You know those too?"

"I've read other web novels besides yours, you know!"

"Mine," Dokja echoed. "Wait, so did you really read about m—"

Beeep! Beeep! Beeep!

Shit, the alarm. I fumbled to turn it off on my phone. Then I immediately put in Kang Doyeon's name.

[The individual 'Kang Doyeon' is accepted for reaping.]

[You have completed the role of 'Reaper'. Congratulations!]

[Rewards will be distributed upon completion of the hidden scenario's timeline.]

I sagged against the wall. It was nearly finished.

My shoulder was enveloped by a warmth. "Did something happen?"

Dokja's alarmed face hovered over me. Feeling a bit dazed still, I reached up to pat his cheek. "Just some good news with the hidden scenario."

His skin bloomed pink under my hand. "It's almost over. You've taken four names already?"

"Yeah." My voice grew stronger. "I have."

"That—that's good." Dokja stood, then helped me up. "We need to discuss the main scenario with everyone now. I have a plan."

"I know." He shot you an amused look.

"You're going to be saying that a lot, aren't you?" he said, a tinge of exasperation.

"Most definitely."

Dokja shook his head and called over everyone. I gave my input every so often, not changing much of the original plan besides suggesting that Kim Namwoon join him, Gilyoung, and Sangah to Gwanghwamun. I would accompany Jung Heewon on her mission.

In fact, I had my own personal one.

After listening a bit, I wandered off to let Gong Pildu know that his job on guard duty was no longer necessary. He gave me a relieved look. "I'm glad you're in the clear, now."

Nearly so. But I didn't bother correcting him.

We returned to the group.

"First, noona was the Reaper..."

"Unnie was a Reaper, too? That's funny."

I caught Jihye's comment as I walked up to my companions, all of them talking in a group. Gilyoung must have started to catch her up on what she had missed now that she was back.

"Heyyy, angel-unnie!" Jihye waved at me. The grin on her face dropped as shock took over. "What happened to your neck?"

I touched the bandages. "Just a small scuffle."

"Oh." Jihye looked conflicted, but then her eyes lit up. "By the way, did you share your angel status or something?"

My wary expression was reflected in our companions' faces. Jihye frowned at all of us, as if perplexed by our confusion.

"I mean," she spoke slowly. "What's this 'Angel of Judgement' and 'Reaper' nonsense, anyways? Do I have to really put in a name? It's a riddle, isn't it? Do I get a prize for guessing right?"

Her excited questions blew past each and every one of us.

"What exactly did you do, Jihye?" I said hesitantly.

"Well, I was going to guess your name, unnie, but then I thought—hey! Kim Namwoon always calls you an angel of death, so maybe I should try someone else first. So I put in Heewon-unnie because she's kinda like an angel of judgement, with her fiery sword and stuff, right? Right?" Jihye nodded enthusiastically, then rocked back on her heels. "But it didn't work. Then I got bored and forgot about it, because Master needed my care—I mean, help...

"Anyway, I tried you this morning, unnie, but it said a guardian angel was protecting you? Whatever that means," she finished blithely.

Oh my God.

I was utterly speechless.

Sangah sounded faint as she asked, "Did...you not read the scenario rules, Jihye-ya?"

"Nope." She popped the 'p' casually, blinking back at us.

The silence was smothering. Then an impending doom suffocated the heavy air.

"Lee—fucking—Jihye."

Kim Dokja's aura was bathed in darkness as he pierced Jihye with an unspeakable rage. It channeled Yoo Joonghyuk rather impressively.

"Uh..." Jihye's eyes drifted around, reading over the hidden scenario messages to see what she had missed.

"O—oh," she said, scratching her head with a nervous laugh. "I'm the Angel of Judgement...and I had to guess the Reaper's identi—"

She choked.

It seemed she had gotten to the part that described the penalties for failure.

Dokja was shaking. "You almost killed her."

Heewon and I snatched up his arms a split second before he lunged forwards. I let Heewon take over for me, and Dokja allowed her to drag him away and down the hall, heaving.

"What kind of brainless fuck!" Kim Namwoon was writhing and flailing like a rabid dog as Lee Hyunsung clutched his middle. The soldier carried him up to another floor, and Namwoon spewed foul, expletive-laden threats at the high school girl along the way. "You're going to wish you were never born!" he howled.

Gilyoung, Sangah, and Gong Pildu looked at Jihye with disappointed and unimpressed glares.

[The constellation 'Demon-like Judge of Fire' raises an eyebrow at the 'Maritime War God' in judgement.]

[The constellation 'Maritime War God' is embarrassed.]

"I—I'm really sorry, angel-unnie!" wailed Jihye. "I was stupid; really, really stupid! I should have read more carefully!"

I couldn't help but laugh now that it was all over at last. "It's actually because you didn't read carefully that I'm still alive. So...thank you?"

"I'll never read carefully again," she sniffled, teary as she clung to my shirt.

"That's not what I meant..."

Then Jihye began sobbing, and I was stuck reassuring the blubbering, inconsolable girl, despite it having been my own life on the line.

I eventually peeled her off of me to go find Dokja, and spotted Heewon standing through an open door. The moment I entered, Dokja gripped the top of my arms painfully. "Don't piss off a dokkaebi ever again."

"It wasn't part of the plan," I sighed.

Dokja's eyes narrowed—and then I was pulled into a tight, almost suffocating, embrace. It was the first time he had voluntarily hugged me like this (at least in this round), and I was pleased, despite feeling rather like a mouse caught by a boa constrictor.

"You aren't leaving this room until you promise," he muttered.

"Haha..." My nervous laughter died out when he squeezed harder in response. "Um, Dokja."

Holy shit, I really needed to upgrade my strength stat. I managed to maneuver in his hold to rub his back, shooting Heewon a plea for help.

She smirked and left. Thanks a lot, you traitor.

"Fine, I'll...do my best." I resumed patting Dokja, it being the only thing I really could do at the moment.

[The constellation 'Demon-like Judge of Fire' points out that you have an empty room now.]

[A constellation that enjoys sex offers to light some candles.]

We sprung apart as if burned, our faces steaming as we looked away from one another. That was not—

"Just," Dokja said tightly," don't die. Okay? You're a reader, so you can't die."

I nodded, my own attention sharpening on him now. "I want to say the same for you, but I know better."

Dokja was dumbfounded. I looked at him, knowing, and we fell into a contemplative silence.

Ah, but anyways...all's well that ends well, right?

Next part ->

A/n: Now the true revelations have concluded. On to the next!

[centuryberry]

Hi, it's me, the one that commented about size queen Ba(lmao what an intro!)

THIS IS ONE OF THE THINGS I WAS THINKING ABOUT! How many puzzle pieces are we looking for exactly? Are they all in the shape of people, or are enthusiastically affectionate critters/animals or sealed in artifacts options too? The possibilities are endless as far as I can tell. If there are other independent people like MK then there's also the possibility that one already got turned into a Thrall! How would they even deal with that?! Imagine Wukong becoming a Titan? That'd be so fucked. You don't have to answer any questions yet, but i'm just sayin!

Also! They killed the dragon king's son just so they wouldn't have to explain why he was alive?! That's fuckin WILD

(I do usually attach my respective side blog to my asks, but I'm not sure I want to publicly connect my ao3 to the me that's here quite yet.😅)

Ah, yes, I remember you! Hello!

As for your questions, the details to the Xiaotian pieces will be revealed in future chapters. Patience, young grasshopper. (Though I will say that no fragment of Xiaotian became a thrall. And a Titan!Wukong would've wiped out the entire world before Yue got out and there wouldn't BE an Act III, so don't worry about that.)

[raevenlyreads]

Seasonal Circle Read Sample

For the Seasonal Circle Spread, the entire deck is spread out in a circle and key points along the wheel are read. Usually this spread is read from turn of season to turn of season (from start of spring to start of summer, for example), but it can be done at any time. I use my intuition to determine the best start and end points if this reading is done mid-season.

For this reading (done mid-May), I read a teeny bit back to hit May Day, then forward for the 1st of June, Solstice, 1st of July, 1st of August, and the potential rewards to be reaped in the upcoming season thereafter.

Want your own Seasonal Circle Spread? Check out my ko-fi page

Read on for the full spread and interpretations

May Day

May Day brought you the energy of the Hierophant. A good time to get things in order, you may already have felt this season bringing focus for new projects and building new habits.

First of June

June comes in with the energy of the Ten of Pentacles. Goals you have been working towards for a long time are coming into fruition.

Solstice

Solstice (June 20th this year) will bring a shift in fortunes. If you've made good use of the Hierophant and Ten of Pentacles energy, you will be prepared to weather the storms and reap the rewards of fortune smiling upon you.

First of July

The Four of Pentacles warns us to be careful of being miserly. Perhaps you put something away in preparation for the turning of The Wheel; now is the time to reevaluate using it. What is held onto is never lost, but it never grows, either.

First of August

The Moon suggests that all is not as it seems. Beware of tricksters, or deals that seem too good to be true.

Upcoming Season

If you play this season right, you will be rewarded with a new opportunity in the next. A new friendship or partnership is on the horizon, provided you've not stretched yourself too thin. This summer’s lesson is discernment, being able to determine true gold from all else that glitters. Recall the ant and the grasshopper, and remember that there is a balance to be had between work and play. While the ant may be full all winter, we are not ants. There is bounty enough to store some away for later and also to use some of your resources now to live your life and enjoy it.

-

Big thank you to all my volunteer querents for allowing me to use their readings for samples. You can find more samples under the tag #raevs sample reads, and can learn more about commissioning me for a read on my ko-fi page (or send me an ask here, I love answering questions about readings, decks, and all things tarot!)

[funishment-time]

🔵 Kodaka BlueSky Q&As: Game Development & Sequels

⚠️ DISCLAIMER: Please be advised! Translations of all Japanese answers derive from a combination of Google Translate and my manager's three-quarters-remembered Japanese. We've tried our best to work out what he's saying, but there will be mistakes here and there. Do not take this as gospel!

To avoid spreading too much misinfo, where we're completely boggled about an answer, we've decided not to even make an attempt. We'll still list the post, but mark it accordingly.

💕 FEBRUARY 2024:

Q: How is the progress of the new work?

A: The game is progressing at a rapid pace with the death march. But it is a death march.

NOTE: From the date of posting, we can assume the above refers to The Hundred Line, which was not fully announced until June 2024. However, that's just an assumption.

/////

Q: How do the death games you have released so far get through the ratings system?

A: I try to recognize and avoid expressions that are not appropriate to use.

/////

Q: i have a question! will there be more raincode games?

A: I would like to.

/////

Q: What is the likelihood that you will really create an online killer training game that both adults and children will enjoy?

A: 0% which is as close to 100% as possible.

NOTE: Likely the above refers to a game idea Kodaka had where you train someone into becoming a serial killer.

/////

Q: Are there plans to make a sequel to Rain Code?

A: I'd love to do that...! Please support me...!

/////

Q: Are there plans for a new Danganronpa release? I've loved it for a long time❗️♡

A: Thank you very much! Plans…? Thank you very much!

NOTE: Please take this with a grain of salt, but Kodaka's use of 予定, yotei, for "plans," is interesting here. My manager tells me that if someone says yotei they intend to do something and/or are actively working on pulling it together. If our understanding is correct, this could mean...well, a lot of different things, but does tell us at the very least he wants to do more Danganronpa.

/////

Q: It would be interesting to see a battle game using characters from Danganronpa or Rain Code, but will there be any games in the future that use characters from Danganronpa or Rain Code in genres other than mystery games?

A: I'd like to try it, but there doesn't seem to be a demand for it...

/////

Q: If it's OK to ask a second question, I'd like to hear about the stories behind the casting of each cast member in Danganronpa and Rain Code.

A: Generally, we choose from the sound company's selection or candidates, but on rare occasions we specify the cast. For almost all roles in Rain Code, we held auditions and selected the cast.

/////

Q: When playing the Danganronpa series and Rain Code, I feel like there is a lot of impressive music, but what kind of image did you have in mind when ordering the music? Also, do the impressions of the finished music ever have an influence on the game's production? I'd love to know if you don't mind!

A: I just roughly present the direction and leave it up to Takada. I've liked Takada ever since he was making songs with Grasshopper, so I don't reject any of his songs. Although I might use them in a different way.

NOTE: Masafumi Takada's behind all the bomb-ass music in DR and Rain Code.

/////

Q: Is there a possibility of a sequel to Akudama Drive?

A: I think there is! If you haven't already watched it, please do!

/////

Q: Is there a follow-up story to Danganronpa v3? Also, is v3 the end of the Danganronpa series?

A: I'll do a crowdfunding campaign to motivate myself…Just to motivate. The reward is to make a sequel. lol

/////

Q: May I please ask again? 🙏 Are you working on any unannounced projects? Or what project or projects should your fans be most excited for? I am a big fan of yours, and I want to thank you on behalf of all your fans for all the creative works you and your friends have brought into the world! 🌎 🗺

A: We are working on all kinds of works at the same time. First of all, a collaborative work by kodaka and Uchikoshi will be unveiled soon.

NOTE: Again, from the date of posting and the reference to Uchikoshi, we can assume the above refers to The Hundred Line, which was not fully announced until June 2024.

🍀 MARCH 2024:

Q: What are your plans for the future of Danganronpa? Something I’ve been wanting to ask in particular is if there were any ideas for possibly rantaros game or maybe a v3 animation? :3

A: I don't know what will happen to Danganronpa since Spike Chunsoft has the rights to it. But personally, I would like to make it someday.

/////

Q: Would you like to see your games in more languages? Along with English, Rain Code was released in French, Italian, German and Spanish. I'm Brazilian and I'd really like to see your games in Portuguese! Maybe even with voices in Portuguese, too...

A: I want to translate as many languages as possible in the game. And I want to visit many countries.

🥬 APRIL 2024:

n/a

🌺 MAY 2024:

n/a

☀️ JUNE 2024:

Q: Did you have any difficulties with CERO while creating Dangaronpa and Raincode?

A: V3 was canceled in South Korea right before its release, and when we tried to do a parody of Jibanyan with Jibakuma, the company stopped us.

NOTE: Jibanyan is a character from Yo-Kai Watch. CERO is the organization that applies age ratings to games etc in Japan.

🎇 JULY 2024:

Q: will a character introduction trailer be released soon for last defence academy? Also, can you tell a little about Suminos personality (not spoilers ofc)? 🙈

A: Wait a little longer! They are all wonderful characters!

/////

Q: Mr. Kodaka, do you have a policy when deciding on character names? What I think is amazing about Danganronpa is that you take impossible surnames in real life, like Fukawa and Pekoyama, and mix them with common words like river and mountain to make them less incongruous, so I'd like to know if you have any other policies when deciding on names.

A: We put a lot of importance on the sound and the appearance of the names. But we changed them a few times along the way. We can't know the balance between normal-sounding names and strange names until all the names are finalized.

🌭 AUG 2024:

n/a

🍁 SEPT 2024:

n/a

🎃 OCT 2024:

Q: If we have a chance to release a game to celebrate the anniversary of Danganronpa in the future, could we hold an event where fans can submit their own character designs, and then officially select the best characters from the submissions to participate in the game as a way to give back to the fans?

A: Is it possible to move characters created by other people?

/////

Q: How involved were you and the rest of TooKyo Games in Tribe Nine? Did you write any of the stories or handled any of the directions? Or was it limited to worldbuiding and designs?

A: I do not write the story. We do the character design and music.

/////

Q: You said before that The Hundred Line: Last Defense Academy will be TooKyo Games' last game. Is this true? Is it also your and/or Uchikoshi's last game? We, your fans, love TooKyo Games and all of the projects that have come out of the company ❤️ We want you guys to be able to make more cool stuff!

A: [Written in both English and Japanese:] In the meantime, please buy it. It is absolutely a masterpiece.

🦃 NOV 2024:

Q: IS this arts related to The hundred line?

A: Since then, it has been rebuilt and is no longer relevant.

[The art in question:]

/////

Q: Regarding Final Defense Academy, how involved is Mr. Uchikoshi in character design and settings?

A: I made it while consulting with others.

NOTE: Presumably the "others" here = Uchikoshi and "it" = the design/setting.

🎄 DEC 2024:

Q: How did you come up with the plot for Rain Code? 🌧 I've seen some people reference a similar plot twist from Xenogears. Was Xenogears, the Xenosaga, or the Xeno franchise an influence on the story of Rain Code?

A: Actually, I have never played it. When I was writing the scenario, the staff pointed out that there was a slightly similar development, and I looked into it, but since it was not exactly the same development, I decided not to fix it as it was.

[tavolgisvist]

The family sayings Then there were the family sayings. As a welcome… 'put it there if it weighs a… ton', to be announced on the full extent and a tight squeeze of the hand… 'When I was knee high to a grasshopper'… 'Never use two words when one will do'… If a joke failed, 'it'll go better second house'… 'Every mickle makes a muckle' (which means every penny counts)… 'As snug as a bug in a rug'… 'In goes your eye out'… 'It's no good having a dog and barking yourself'… And as the answer to an unanswerable or unknown question, 'because there are no hairs on a seagull's chest'. Plus the famous Dadism, 'moderation and toleration, sons', and not to forget his and Auntie Mill's immortal 'here we are, where are we?' Needless to say being dads ourselves these days, Paul and I are still keeping up the family tradition with our own unfortunate children. Abbi, my youngest, still has trouble with some sayings however, and for ages it was 'put it there if it weighs a… tunnel', until the day I asked her to repeat it again 'for Uncle Paul' and she changed it to 'if it weighs a… TONGUE'.

(Mike McCartney, 1981, Thank U Very Much. Mike McCartney's Family Album)

Part (I), (II), (III), (IV), (V), (VI)

[calico-and-kettles]

A American were-mouse in London

Chapter 1:

It was a dark and rainy night, though most nights in London were like that. Tonight, as he looked through the many files of mice, bats and lizards gone missing, many found torn apart by some great beast. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. As he sat staring at the fire something felt different, as if something wicked was on its way. This made Basil’s fur bristle slightly, like a cold wind crawling up his spine. He couldn’t shake the chill even as he sat in his armchair near the fire. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. The door swung open, and the most peculiar mouse the detective had ever seen stood illuminated by the flickering street lights. Basil’s brow crooked slightly. as the peculiar mouse stood in the doorway silently for a moment as if nervous to enter. A mixture of curiosity and caution washed over the detective as he stood to greet his unexpected visitor. He sized the strange mouse up, and the mouse seemed to do the same in return.

“ Hmmm...long-eared jerboa mixed with...harvest mouse...no, no...”

Basil muttered and mumbled to himself, but before he could continue his guessing, the mouse answered

“ Mhmm...close, but I’m a grasshopper mouse, actually.”

They grinned, revealing a mouthful of sharp teeth, their sparkling silver canines glinting in the firelight.

“Are you Basil of Baker Street?”

Their voice was warm as spring rain, but held a distinct accent that he couldn’t place at first.

“ if this ain’t the right home then I’m sorry to bother ya, darling...”

They tilted their head up at him and it dawned on basil that this strange mouse sported a light Appalachian drawl. Basil cleared his throat, his eyes still fixed on the curious mouse standing before him. He couldn’t quite place their accent, but it held a warmth and familiarity that was oddly comforting. He nodded in response to their question.

“Yes, I am Basil of Baker Street. And you are...?”

He took a step closer, trying to get a better look at the mouse and their unusual features. The sharp teeth and sparkling silver canines stood out against the backdrop of the flickering firelight. August chuckled, watching with amusement as Basil inspected them.

“I’m August Saint Fouler...”

They held their grin, a long strawberry blonde tufted tail flicking behind them in a gesture that reminded Basil of a cat. August was small, only reaching Basil’s throat in height, but their height seemed to be of no concern to them. Their body was muscular and bulky, and despite trying to conceal it under a dark purple oversized raincoat and a poet’s shirt.

Basil gestured towards a nearby armchair, his gaze still fixed on the curious mouse.

“Please, have a seat. August Saint Fowler, isn’t it? That’s an unusual name.”

He couldn’t help but notice the muscular build of the mouse, hidden under their loose clothing. The way they held themselves, with a confidence that belied their small stature. August carried on their shoulders the authority of much larger animal, With long strawberry blonde curls that fell to their thighs, they looked completely androgynous.

“Basil is also a strange name, is it not? ”

They inquired, still holding their sharp smirk.

“ None the less, I heard from the birds that you're best in all of Mousedom, I’ve heard. You’re as good as gold. That’s why I came looking for you. I’m concerned about my uncle Edwin... He hasn’t sent me a letter back in almost two months.”

August’s smirk turned into a tight grimace. They hadn’t stopped baring their teeth since they entered. was it nervous or was August intending to intimidate him? Perhaps it was both, leaving Basil to ponder what emotions lay beneath the surface. Taking a seat across from August, Basil leaned back thoughtfully.

“ Tell me more about your uncle. You think he's in trouble?”

He watched as August fidgeted with the sleeve of their oversized raincoat, their tail wrapping around their feet, their tugged tail tip twitching. Something about the way they moved was uncanny, almost predatory. He tried ever so much to pay attention, Dawson had scolded him on more then one occasion for focusing on the minor details though he wouldn’t dare call this strange mouse anything minor. His attention was keenly focused on the mouse’s unusual mannerisms, particularly the never ending display of sharp teeth. August noticed Basil’s gaze lingering on them and snapped at him making basil jolt slightly in his seat.

“Hey, too-tall, are ya listenin?”

They used the same call one would use for a hunting hound to draw attention to them. Their voice held a subtle growl, showing they did not enjoy being ignored, especially in critical situations. Basil immediately snapped out of his thoughts, feeling scolded in the moment by the stranger that adorned themself in silver, his gaze meeting August’s.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just that your... teeth are quite something.....”

He tried to keep his tone friendly, but he couldn’t help but feel a hint of unease at the predatory manner the mouse exuded.

" Yeah I've been told.... Thought you're a detective not a dentist...Are we here bout my teeth or a missing mouse? "

He swore the stranger was rolling their eyes under their round indigo glasses. Glasses at night, how odd! However, the mouse quickly recaptured his attention with a show of an envelope.*

"Here... Read this... It was the last letter that...he sent me…”

They muttered, holding out the letter for him to take.

[theheidfox]

Weekly runes (April 27.2025)

Hey, how was everyone's weekend? May is coming around with a new moon in Taurus and there's a lot of new energies around (maybe it's just me with my birthday around the corner), anyway let's see what the gods have in store for us this week, shall we ;).

Take a breath, mentalize and pick a rune

Ready? Let'see

1. Thurisaz

The thorn, uh? Now, now... This rune represents the elemental power of Thor - strong-willed, loud and unapologetic - and that's the main advice for this week.

Yeah, things may get pricky (lol excuse my pun), but you have what it takes to stand your ground and face it without shaking your convictions, even in the face of turmoil. This rune is a call to set your bounderies and confront challanges with your head held high - and smash anything standing in your way like Thor with Mjolnir. 

Remember, removing a thorn might be painful, but it's better in the long run...take it as a cleansing after the storm where only what takes root firmly on the ground can start anew. 

In my particular opinion this rune also embodies a lot of the New Moon in Taurus energy. Strong and steady. Determination and courage. Wield this power with intention and conviction. Like Thor with Mjolnir, you'll be unstoppable.⚡🐐

2.  Tiwaz, reversed

Courage, justice, self-sacrifice for the greater good... all these are Tyr's strong characteristics, the rightful god who bind Fenrir at the cost of his hand...

This rune, specially reversed, urge us to look at our own path more critically...when self-sacrifice become self-harm? Self-hatred? The sharp arrow is not pointing towards your goal, is pointing towards your own heart.

You might be pushing yourself over your own limits thinking it's the right thing to do - and your intentions are good, that is clear, but it's time to stop and think. Why are you doing this? Because you want to? Because it's the right thing to do? For who? It seems like you are doing things on autopilot and this is not who you truly are. 

It's alright to take your hand out of the wolf's mouth for a bit, okay? Take your time to reflect, find your aim again, sharp-shooter. We need you here, brave and strong. 🏹🐺

3.  Jera

The harvest! Oh dear, you've been working hard, right? It seemed that this winter was never going to end... hey, I get it - i'm the master of anxiously burnt out. But just like a harvest, enduring all that hardship, your persistence and hard work pays off. Your reward is at the horizon, my dear, and you are sucessful. Stay persistent, you are almost there.

A good advice would be to practice gratitude, you are doing everything right and the gods see it, but remember the natural cycles of life and the universe... rejoice, rest, enjoy...but don't forget to prepare again (the ant and the grasshopper, anyone?).  Recognize and appreciate your blessings, but don't forget the hard work.

For now, enjoy :)! 🌞🌾

That's it for this week, folks, I hope some resonates with you and helps along the way. As always, I'm open to answer questions or personal readings. Have fun!

[hummingjay]

WAIT FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THE PREVIOUS QUESTION IF YOU WANT, THIS ONE IS MORE IMPORTANT:

What bug would Jensen be?

Ladybug!!!!!! (technically not bugs but beetle, so ladybeetle!!)

According to Cricket, Jensen's small and huggable and warm and colorful and cute! Like ladybugs! If anything she'd be a ladybug or a caterpillar. cute fellas!

Also I will (because I can) answer your previous question!

Cricket does love crickets! They're her favorite, because they make the world seem bigger. You know how Cricket's really really really unstable, how without some sort of anchor, the world begins crashing in like horrid walls coming inwards? Well, at night she'd sit down and listen to the crickets chirp. They made her feel less alone, plus the distance between her and them and the fact they aren't always seen suggests that the world has to be big enough to fit them all. Dragonhead crickets are even cooler, and she likes looking at them when they chill on her at night. (cool bugs, cooler look)

Millie's biased. She likes jumping spiders but that may be because beine is such a cool fella

all the others are mostly impartial. Lanze does like centipedes in particular.

In general though? Kasuars prefer large bugs, the more legs the better. They never keep the bugs in enclosures or cages (remember, bugs are friends, not owned pets) so they just roam around, and it's easier to keep track of larger bugs. Usually spiders, beetles, centipedes, millipedes, larger crickets, grasshoppers, mantises and even locusts!

Every now and then you'll find one or two Kasuars with huntsman spiders that clasp onto their backs.

[cannibal-nightmares]

Funny Thing About Opinions

Stein is at a banquet he wishes he weren’t at.

Something a bit free-form. don’t take it too seriously. Social burnout in the overwhelming face of well-intent.

Soul Eater - Stein & Spirit // hurt/no comfort, hurt/comfort, loose AU, low social battery, asocial Stein, non-chronological, cliffhanger, social burnout, anxiety, implied SpiritStein, whether it's OOC by the end is up to your imagination Word count - 1,667 -- [AO3 link] - [x]

It was like his teen years, at a party surrounded by people he didn’t want to talk to, having conversations he didn’t want to have. Of course he actualized the feeling of honor he was supposed to be experiencing, but his preoccupied thoughts had him distracted from the present, an itching under his skin that had his soul reaching to rattle the bars of its cage.

“Franken, is it?”

The teen refocused his attention from his right where some peers mingled by the front door. He’d observed the girl now in front of him before: If it weren’t for the fanned ember within her soul, she might have otherwise been reduced to being plain and blonde.

“You’re Spirit’s partner.”

“Stein.” He corrected her. “Sure.”

“Word has it you’re the top-performing meister of the academy. I didn’t take you for the party type.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’m trying to get to know you, aren’t I? Spirit said you might be aloof.”

“So you know him, after all.” It was a statement, not a question. “Although, Spirit wouldn’t call me by my first name to someone whom we weren’t mutually acquainted.”

“Sheesh, would you relax? This isn’t an interrogation, you know.”

He huffed with a forced half-grin, taking a learned sip from his solo cup, a drink he didn’t realize until then he had actually wanted. “Yeah. Excuse me, Kamiko.” Stein shouldered himself through the crowd to meet the stairs without a second glance, wandering until he found a bathroom or quiet bedroom or broom closet.

It was a child-like overwhelm.

The teacher nudged his shoulder, but he couldn’t hear what she had suggested to him. He turned over his fist and watched closely to its center as his fingers peeled away to reveal a grasshopper in his palm, its legs readjusting in anticipation. On cue, as it jumped out of the boy’s grasp, he scooped at the air to catch it once again in two cupped hands, amused by the timely prediction.

“Don’t you want to play with your friends?”

Hesitant--not of anxiety but of thought--he raised his gaze to hers before calculating the outcomes of possible answers; he glanced blankly to the kids his age chasing each other around a swing set, already assuming the insect to hop out his hands. The short answer was, no, he didn’t want to play today. Why did they insist he couldn’t continue on reading from individual time? He didn’t like that recess followed and interrupted such honed focus, it often made his skin crawl; sometimes he could force the feeling away, sometimes it welled in his chest and flooded into his head, especially when people would ask him questions-made-rhetorical with such readable answers. To speak would spout a stream he would not be able to stop.

In his thoughts, Stein felt his own soul twinge with frustration, followed by a short anger, then a sinking defeat. He shook the grasshopper in his hand to help himself think, but the effort was fast-discovered futile. They had taken his books away before, and his retaliation was met with a confused discipline. He’d considered repeating his anarchy over and over again: He could play the long game, but the chance that it wouldn’t have amounted to anything by the end, he decided, wasn’t worth wasted time consistently committing to time out.

Still, the jagged juxtaposition was gutting him through his sternum.

“Oh, honey, you’re going to make the bug dizzy doing that.”

Stein couldn’t unclench his fist as he brought both hands to the sides of his head, squeezing pressure into his skull. It was relaxing. It tuned out the shrieking kids and muddied her voice into a more bearable volume. The touch, then, to his shoulder startled him and had him retreat inward, a soothing humming in his throat. Why couldn’t she see what he wanted? What was it that he needed? Why was it all a trick? How was the truth of the matter so wrong?

It was a declared selfishness.

“Stein!” An echoed calling shouted from a distance.

The grad student snapped out of his writing in a haze, meeting the wall to finally note how dark the room had become. Someone was making a racket from the street below and a sharp buzzing rang from downstairs.

“Stein, you can’t tell me you’re home right now!”

His hesitation was less that of startled anxiety, but more that of recollecting where he was and why. Stein’s chest eased as the picture reformed in front of him, a peace in remembering he was safe in his own sanctity.

“I mean, I guess you can, atleastthen I’d know you’re not off dead somewhere or something…” As the voice trailed off, Stein couldn’t ignore the slur on its tongue, sparking his attention to fast conclusions. He stretched out his arms over his head before hoisting himself out of his chair to meet the window, sheer curtains obstructing the pedestrian’s view of him if they had tried to look.

On the street was a wobbling redhead in a mussed suit jacket and nice shoes. The man’s soul was glowing warm, but was going dim in disappointment. Stein’s hand twitched to open the window in reply or to meet the front door, though the blanket of solitude weighed comfortingly over him.

“What was it all for, Stein?” Spirit begged. “Can we not celebrate you?”

The amusement from the graduate’s face faltered. He had been told before not to acknowledge the creeping resentment that started to bloom in his throat, but something spurred like a quiet gnawing behind his ears. There it was again. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. He was grateful, sure, but his wants didn’t match expectations.

“Professor Stein!”

A girl in a blazer bounded towards him from the crowd of familiar faces. He politely moved his champagne to his side.

“Your speech this evening was just the encouragement the kids needed to hear to keep their spirits up. And a congratulations are in order to your anniversary.”

He had given a speech? Oh, he must have, it would explain the distracting cross-frequency that buzzed over his attention. Although his half-smile stemmed from somewhere genuine, he had to force his focus in response.

“I’m flattered, Maka, though my work would not be much without the perseverance of my students.” A beat, and he let his colors bleed in front of the young woman. “Too, I think this event needs to shed more emphasis on its alumni than some of those like me…”

He fiddled with his glass in the slight unprofessionalism. Now that his students were long-graduated, he felt more comfortable than some of his peers to regard them as comrades rather than pupils, especially as some of them were teachers, themselves. In the past, he would have put up a front for her, hidden away his discomfort to lead by example and to spark her own confidence, but these days he trusted he could be met in the middle, giving a sort of cue he wanted to reserve his niceties if they needed to be more applicable elsewhere. She caught it.

“For everything that you are.” Maka tipped her head and toasted her glass.

He had to blink away his surprise.

“And to yours.”

He hadn’t intended on slamming the door when he got home, but the window panes across the living room rattled as he stumbled into the breezeway. Stein’s heart was pounding—he hadn’t noticed it had gotten that bad—his hand tracing the wall for balance while the other fumbled to unbutton his collar. His foot lagged at the crossroads of the hallway where he could pace to his room, his sight stuck on the couch that was just two steps away. A deep sigh that unhitched the tightness in his chest, Franken allowed his chest to meet the cushions, his face half-smushed into a throw pillow.

No more. Not again. He couldn’t even acknowledge when someone had entered the room to place a blanket over him.

“Stein.”

Standing near the double doors of the banquet hall’s balcony, Stein hadn’t realized he had got caught in a loop of cranking at his screw, his eyes closed and face turned downward, his brow exhibiting a faux focus to the room. Everything had gotten so loud, he couldn’t tell even when the volume was turned down by the dissipating crowd.

“It’s a little much, huh?”

Cutting through the static was the cool air from outside that seeped through the aging architecture. He wanted to think. He needed to think. He threw on the cruise control and restarted on safe mode; all he had to do was ride out the rest of the evening, ignorantly pretending he would be able to confidently acknowledge when the road ended. Without opening his eyes, he nodded upward just once to the presence that approached him, fire to fingers that continued the ratcheting.

“Let me take your glass.”

It was out of his hands.

“Come, follow me outside.”

The flute was replaced by a squeeze to his palm, to which Stein returned. A step, a cr-clacking, a rush from a breeze, a few more steps followed by another cr-clack, then almost-silence. He brought his grip away from his bolt to meet his face, soothing himself with loose knuckles to rub at his temple. The other hand followed suit.

“Sit with me.”

He did, guided by the elbow. The concrete was cool.

“I don’t normally negotiate.” Stein muttered with a humored rise in his voice, but his face remained unmatched and flat.

“Shut up.” Spirit huffed playfully.

He did.

It was dark, Stein didn’t have to open his eyes to know that, and the fragrance of night was refreshing to their lungs; the light music from beyond the wall caught his attention in waves, he but was beginning to make his escape out from the rip current. One last hand to his back, and, finally, a deep and granted exhale of mutual salvation.