#survivor mains are trash

[slashersgostabbystabstab]

Survivor mains talking mad trash to me in endgame chat because I slugged them after they bodyblocked the Hawkins Lab hallways so I wouldn't get any hooks

Thank you Forced Hesitation <3

[forcedhesitation]

like clockwork

[xiuhunsoo]

love being called a bad teammate when i'm literally the only one playing the game as intended in the match 😂😂

[slackerlifewhere]

TCF is all about healing

- This is a review about the novel.

There's possible SPOILERS for readers who haven't finished reading the first volume.

___

When I first picked up the novel, I didn't have high expectations. After reading a lot of stories that end up disappointing me because of how the author eventually adds romance or harems into the story because their main character apparently needs a romantic relationship to feel good about themselves, I thought that Trash of the Count's Family will be the same thing further down the line.

But damn, did the author prove me wrong.

In the first few chapters, the novel's entire vibe was almost unnoticeable. Sure, there were some small details like him not being used to extravagant clothes or finding a simple meal delicious, but it wasn't obvious. It made me raise my eyebrow but I simply thought that he's a simple salaryman or something.

The first lines about him not having anyone who would miss him if he's gone in his previous world can be excused as him having no lingering attachments. And honestly, some transmigration/isekai stories do have their main characters having no attachments in their previous world. So it makes sense and it didn't alert me of what could've possibly happened to Cale, former Kim Rok Soo, for him to be so aloof and calm at the forced transmigration.

And then...he thought about poverty and pity when interacting with On and Hong. That was the first sign that he may have left a few lines out of his introduction.

It steadily got worse when he was talking to Choi Han about him being used to the cruelty of people like Venion. And then, at the first meeting with Raon, he appeared as if he understood the hopelessness of a child under an abusive adult's hand.

That's when I finally thought that TCF is a story about healing. And I was pleasantly surprised.

Sure, there's action, drama, and comedy, but TCF is mainly about moving on or healing from past hurts. There are moments when it can be called "cliche" but TCF is unique in the way it portrays Cale and his relationships. There's the found family trope that I love but what I love the most about the story is how these characters who have lost something or were about to lose something if OG Cale didn't make the deal with God of Death to have KRS replace him, is slowly understanding that they're not alone and that they can improve as a person if given the chance.

It's heart-warming and completely unexpected. I didn't read the first chapter expecting this fantasy-themed action novel to be about this.

OG Cale, Choi Han, Raon, On and Hong, Lock, Taylor and Cage, Alberu, the Dark Elves, Mary, and so many characters paved the way for me to completely fall in love with this novel.

If I sound like I'm exaggerating, then I don't care because this novel is just beautiful.

What completely blew my mind is the final reveal of Cale's past as Kim Rok Soo.

Listen, I have a love-hate relationship with KR survival novels involving monsters and dungeons and the freaking apocalypse. I love some of them and I can't stand the others. But I did not expect that Kim Rok Soo was in a world trying to survive from the effects of the apocalypse.

My first reaction was "What the actual fuck" because I 100% did not expect for the story to go that way. And my second thought was "So that's why!" Because it finally explains why he hates "papercuts"! This guy is so good at making big things about himself sound so small that it left me stunned when the big reveal happened!

I wanna slap him and hug him at the same time.

It explains why he's so good at being a commander. It explains why he's used to getting hurt or why he hates the thought of his friends and family dying with him as the survivor (I believe he has a survivor's guilt?). It explains everything.

He may be in a new world but he's still stuck in his past no matter how much he says about not thinking about what-ifs and his past. The time he spends in this new world is him slowly realizing that he's not alone and he doesn't have to be so scared.

And when I finally thought that I'm done being surprised, OG Cale appears and flips everything I knew about the character. They talk about how content they are with their new identities. They smile. They're happy. And that proves why this novel is about healing and not the simple transmigration novel full of action and comedy. Instead of getting angry at Kim Rok Soo, former Cale Henituse, for the deal with God of Death, he's just happy for the man and for himself. I just love how the author doesn't forget about Kim Rok Soo's sacrifices and rewards him with a happy life with his mother.

It's so hard not to finish the novel within weeks because of how good it is. It can be fast in some parts for the action, which makes sense since everything is happening at once. But there are also slow emotional moments that keep reminding me why I love this novel.

So yeah, this is my review about TCF. It's not a perfect novel but it's a good novel about healing and family. And I'm waiting for the second volume to be done so I can finally read the rest.

[sunderwight]

SVSSS AU where Shen Yuan's younger sister does a villainess transmigration.

The world she ends up in was originally a dating game and visual novel with some light RPG and crafting elements. Playing as purehearted main girl Qiu Haitang, one could choose any number of routes to pursue, from dashing Liu Qingge, to scholarly Mu Qingfang, sexy ice demon Linguang Jun, cute-but-domineering younger half-demon Luo Binghe, and so on. It was an interesting game, though it notoriously inspired some frustration when some of the more interesting side characters (like Yue Qingyuan) were completely unavailable as romantic options, and inspired at lot of rumors about hidden content and demands on future DLC expansions.-

Shen Meimei hadn't particularly liked the game. Sure, she played every route to 100% completion, bought all the extras, the official soundtrack, and the merch (fanmade as well as what slim-pickings existed officially), but that shouldn't be mistaken for approval. Much of that was in fact a desperate quest to figure out what the hell was even going on! Ignore the play time listed for this scathing Steam review, everyone! It shouldn't be factored into any assessments!

The game had several problems, in Shen Meimei's opinion.

The main issue was the lack of follow-through on the buildup of the backstory. Qiu Haitang's whole family was killed one night, maybe-probably by her sketchy as fuck ex-fiancee, who was also a hostage being kept by the Qiu family as leverage against a rival family. Which begged so many questions! Shen Meimei had suspected all along that there was more to it than met the eye (not just because the evil family shared her surname) but it was never deeply delved into. The whole thing only even got resolution in some of the routes, and the most thorough was Luo Binghe's. Luo Binghe had a huge vendetta against Shen Qingqiu, Haitang's sketchy former fiance, which left a lot of room for doubt about his investigating the issue. Was Shen Qingqiu really to blame? Or was Luo Binghe just taking advantage of an opportunity to pin SOME crime on him, since he couldn't really get him for the shit he actually did to Luo Binghe himself? What about the hints regarding that Wu Yanzi guy? Why did those never seem to amount to much? Were the Qiu family really stupid enough to betroth their only daughter to a hostage, or was something else going on? And what about Xiao Qi, the slave boy servant of the Qiu who was mentioned a few times as another possible survivor or witness, but who never comes up again?

Shen Meimei played through everything, certain that there had to be some way to actually solve or gain clarity on the Mystery of the Qiu Family Murders, but even after completing the main routes and unlocking and completing the hidden ones -- nothing! It was all just swept aside in favor of tepid romance arcs, made all the more insufferable because of the compelling subtext between the male love interests. Like, why were any of these guys even interested in Haitang when they so clearly had more going on with each other?

Annoyance over a game Shen Meimei lost too many hours of her life to was one thing, of course.

Transmigrating into the younger sister of notoriously sketchy ex-fiance Shen Qingqiu was another!

Bad news: in the routes where Shen Qingqiu is prosecuted for his crimes, his whole family goes down with him. So if this goes poorly, not only will he be punished, but so will Shen Meimei!

Worse news: this fictional version of her family is almost identical to her actual real family. To the point where she would be checking everyone else for transmigration, except that no one but her seems aware that anything is odd. Shen Qingqiu acts exactly like her older brother, right down to his particular flavor of prickly social behavior and cynicism. And their middle brother is a chronically ill nerd who hate-reads trash novels and is completely fascinated by weird monsters (a much more worrisome trait in a world that actually has a lot of those...)

In short, her life is on the line, and so is her family's!

Damn you, Veiled Heroine Games! If you hadn't abandoned so many plot threats, Shen Meimei might actually know what was going on and be able to neatly circumvent everything! But now she has to figure out how to win the protagonist back over, rescue her brothers, and solve (and possibly further cover up...) the mysterious Qiu family murders, all while keeping Luo Binghe away from Shen Jiu, and preventing Qiu Haitang from completing any of the romance plotlines that will cause troubles for them! Which is most of them!

[wendynerdwrites]

If I didn't think Somerton was a scumbag before...

According to Gita Jackson, one of his biggest plaguarism targets, he's done exactly nothing to reach out to them or other victims. According to Kat, Hbomb's editor/researcher, he has not reached out to them about contributing to the fund. You'd think if fixing his mess was his main priority, he'd have done THAT before making a video.

This twit spent years stealing, launching harassment campaigns against his critics, dolling out misinformation that targetted women, lesbians, transmascs, NB's, WWII soldiers, Bisexuals, Asexuals and SURVIVORS OF THE GODDAMN AIDS EPIDEMIC while fetishizing Nazis and blowing smoke up the ass of a CEO scumbag. Oh, and setting himself up as a representative of the queer community despite going out of his way to shit all over about 85% of it.

How do we think the victims of his plagairism and harassment felt? Their mental health probably suffered severely when they got trashed and labeled as bigots when they tried to defend themselves and their work.

There is no way Somerton did not know he hurt people when he took active measures to do so.

He did not take active measures to actually fix things. He couldn't even be assed to provide a link to HBomb's fund for his victims in his video description.

He should not hurt himself. No one ever should. And I dont want to see harm come to him. Just earned comeuppence. DEATH or self harm doesn't fall into that category. I wish him a full recovery.

But aside from that, I also wish for all of his ill gotten gains to go to all he has hurt. I wish for him to leave the internet permanently. I wish for him to never be allowed into the fields of media study or entertainment again and be laughed out of the room if he ever tries again. I wish for an investigation into his "film studio."

The fact that he opened his so called apology talking about his self-harm/su*cide is sheer manipulation. He minimized his actions throughout his so called apology, blamed his misinformation and bigotry on his partner, and put his patreon up again. and anyone who buys that "It's so you can unsubscribe!" line is a moron. All he has to do to make sure people who hate him now arent charged is to shut it down completely. But instead, he makes his ex-fans do the work for him. And we know why.

The man's first priorities in his so called quest to make it right isn't to reach out to his victims, help with their funding, or even raise awareness of the funds for them. It was to film himself downplaying and making excuses for his actions and to reactivate his Patreon.

If that doesn't tell you who he is, I don't know what to tell you.

[medlarmeadows]

The Best of Us, The Worst of Us (The Last of Us)

q!Charlie Slimecicle x fem!reader

Synopsis: In the midst of the zombie apocalyptic world of The Last of Us, you and Charlie stumble upon a little girl who became the light of your lives for the rest of her life.

Warning(s): blood, swearing, violence, mild gore (descriptive scenes of wounds and blood), main-character (?) death, HEAVY angst, mild-suicidal ideation, physical threatening, panic attack, bittersweet ending

Word Count: 6.6k

A/N: The last sentence in my notes for this fic was “This is angst we ball”. I am so sorry.

masterlist

Surviving in a zombie apocalyptic world was tough. If you weren’t fighting off zombies or other survivors, your next problem was finding food and shelter.

Luckily for you and Charlie, you both knew how to be resourceful.

You’d both done things you weren’t proud of. Between sneaking up on survivors and picking them off one by one so you could loot the bodies and the location, and savagely tearing apart the bodies of the undead without even blinking an eye, you could safely say the apocalypse had changed you both.

Whether that turned you into the worst versions of yourselves, you couldn’t say.

“Hey Charlie,” you had asked him on a rare day when you had simply relaxed by a brook. It had been a peaceful day, one without any scavenging runs, or even run ins with zombies or other survivors.

“Yes, my love?” he replied.

Despite yourself, you feel your chest warm. Ten years since the world turned to shit, but your boyfriend never failed to find a way to make you feel loved.

Too bad you would be the one to break that mood.

“Are we bad people?”

There was a beat of silence as Charlie registered your words. You see him frown from behind the old sunglasses he had picked up from an abandoned mall (“You can’t stop the drip, even if you might get bit!” “Charlie, if you wear that and we get ambushed, you are most definitely going to get bit.” “But I will look cool during it.” “And also dead.”), the sun reflecting off the lenses and shielding his eyes from your view.

“Sure, we’ve done questionable things,” he starts slowly, as if he was processing every word before he said them. “But I don’t think that makes us bad people. I think that just makes us survivors.”

It’s your turn to frown as you mull over his words. The dead leaves on the ground rustle as Charlie shifted, leaning over to hold the side of your face gently.

“We’ve been doing this for ten years,” he murmurs. “What’s got you thinking about this now?”

You worry your lip as you lean into his touch, his calloused hands bringing a striking contrast to his gentle hold. It grounds you in the midst of your busy thoughts.

“I don’t know,” you reply softly. “I guess, I’ve just been feeling a little sentimental recently.”

“Oh yeah? I get that too.”

You snort, before grabbing Charlie’s hand in yours and placing a kiss to the back of his hand. He responds by pulling you towards him into a cuddle on the forest floor.

“I guess that just shows we still have a little bit of humanity left over,” he murmurs as he places a kiss into your hair.

“I guess so,” you reply as the two of you drift off into a comfortable silence, interrupted only by the soft burbling of the brook.

-

Camping out in the forest was always a gamble, no matter how peaceful it seemed to be. Without four walls to protect you, you could be easily ambushed by survivors and zombies alike.

You were up the second you heard the sound of empty tin cans crashing to the ground. Charlie shot up from the bed roll moments after you, eyes wide and alert.

The two of you had set up camp behind a couple of large logs, large enough to obscure most of your view of where your campfire had been (Survival tip number 1: never sleep immediately next to your campfire, and always put it out before you sleep) so you couldn’t immediately see whoever or whatever had knocked over your trash.

Reaching for your shotgun that was always within arm’s reach of you, you mouthed to Charlie, “I’ll approach, you flank.”

With a thumbs up from him, you make your way to the source of the noise as quietly and quickly as you can. The moment you step out to face the culprit, you aim the shotgun at them, ready to fire if need be and –

“Oh my god.”

The moonlight just barely illuminated the figure before you. Standing before you, in clothes torn, tattered, and muddied with both dirt and what must have been dried blood, was a girl who could be no older than eight years old. She was on her knees, seemingly having just tripped over the small pile of tin cans in the darkness, and you notice that one of her shoes was missing.

The girl is frozen for a second, eyes wide and staring at the shotgun. The pair of spectacles slips down her nose just a little, enough to draw your attention to it. One of the lenses was cracked.

Charlie appears behind her just a second later, moments away from tackling what he had probably thought was a lone adult survivor. She senses him behind her and turns, mouth falling open.

In a split second, Charlie has the girl in his arms, one hand pressed over her mouth to stop her from screaming. You drop the shotgun on the ground and run to them.

“Calm down,” you try as she wiggled in Charlie’s grasp. Her chest rose and fell in panic.

This wouldn’t do.

“Charlie let go of her,” you hiss at him, keeping your volume low to avoid attracting any potential threats.

“If I let go, she’s going to scream,” he hisses back.

You let out a deep sigh and try to put on the most kind and genuine smile you could muster.

“Hello,” you say gently. “I’m Y/N. We’re not going to hurt you, but we need you to calm down and not scream. If you scream, the zombies will come, and everybody is going to get hurt.”

The kid’s eyes widened just a fraction, darting around the darkness to look around. You reach for one of her hands and rub your thumb over the back of it in hopes to help soothe her.

“There’s no one here except for us, for now. You can relax, try to calm down.”

After a few seconds, the child’s breathing slows down, and she seemed to relax in Charlie’s arms a little. When he was sure that she wasn’t going to scream, he let go of her and moved to kneel beside her on the ground.

“Hey,” Charlie says softly. “Sorry for grabbing you like that, I’m Charlie. What’s yours?”

The girl raises her hands and starts to gesture shakily. Confused at first, Charlie turns to look at you, but you realise quickly that she was signing to the two of you. Your mouth opens slightly when you realise.

“– I – P – P – A. Juanaflippa? Did I get that right?” you ask.

The girl nods excitedly, a smile spreading on her face in contrast to the panic she had been in just moments earlier.

“It’s nice to meet you, Juanaflippa. What are you doing out in the forest?”

She starts signing again, but soon realised that you were reaching your limit of your sign language knowledge. You exchange looks with Charlie, who was equally lost. Then, Juanaflippa was gesturing again:

“Oh! Pen and paper!” gasps Charlie. “I think we might have scrap paper and a pen somewhere, let me find it.”

As Charlie rushed back to your bed roll, you move closer to Juanaflippa to help her stand up. She stumbles a little and leans a little into your side.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt somewhere?”

She nods, lifting her foot with the missing shoe.

“You hurt your foot?”

As she nods again, you feel something in your heart shatter for her. Why was a girl so young out in the forest all alone? Why did she have to suffer in this world that would never be kind to her?

You almost whiplash. You weren’t sure when was the last time you felt compassion for someone other than Charlie.

Pushing down your bubbling, confusing emotions, you say, “Don’t worry, we’ll get you patched up. Come on.” And you gather her up in your arms and carry her over to where your bed rolls were.

The remainder of the night was spent patching Juanaflippa up. By the time you had finished wrapping her foot injury – which luckily seemed to just be a sprained ankle – with some bandages and wiped the dirt off her face, the little girl was sound asleep in Charlie’s arms.

Cradling her gently, Charlie looked up at you. His wide eyes met yours, and you immediately knew the question which was on his mind.

“Charlie,” you began softly. “It could be dangerous.”

“But – ” you wince when his voice cracked slightly “ – she’s just a child. God knows what she’s already gone through alone, we can’t – we have to – ”

“We won’t,” you say firmly.

You place a hand over one of Charlie’s which had started to shake over Juanaflippa’s shoulder. Intertwining your fingers with his, you lean over to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. Strong emotions start bubbling up again from your chest, this time towards your boyfriend with a heart of gold. Charlie had already set his mind on taking in Juanaflippa, and you knew you would follow his lead in a heartbeat.

“We’ll protect her, I promise.”

-

You and Charlie had only planned to camp in the forest for one night, so you were going into the nearest town in the morning. As per yours and Charlie’s routine, the plan would be to scope out a potential camp for the night, preferably in a secured building, then search around for loot. If you were lucky, you would be able to sneak around zombies and survivors alike. Most of the time, the two of you would be able to make it through the day without anything more than a minor scuffle.

Truth be told, you and Charlie enjoyed the adrenaline rush that came with a fight. You didn’t push you’re your luck often, but what was life without a little risk? However, with Juanaflippa to take care of, the two of you had to be more careful than you were used to.

The little girl was a good sport, even with her injury. But even then, the three of you moved slower than usual.

“We should probably set up camp, then one of us stays with the kid, the other goes and scavenges,” you had suggested in the morning.

“Are you kidding?” came Charlie’s worried reply. “We don’t ever split up. That’s like the worst decision ever. Besides, the kid’s gotta learn how to survive in this world.”

“Yeah, but maybe when she’s got some food and healed up,” you shot back.

“Fine, fine. But once she’s recovered, I’m gonna teach her how to shoot a gun.”

“Charlie, no – ”

“Hey, Juanaflippa! Wanna learn how to shoot a gun?”

That conversation had ended with Charlie and Juanaflippa jumping around you excitedly. You sighed exasperatedly, but it had been hard to hide your fond smile.

Luck seemed to be on your side because your plan for the day went smoothly. You managed to find an old video game store (“Oh my god, Dying Light! I loved that game!”) and secured it as your camp for the next few nights. Once that was done, Charlie had slipped out to gather some food and medicine, returning safely before night fell.

The three of you took things slow, slower than you and Charlie had ever done things in the past ten years. What was routine and almost second nature to the two of you became teaching opportunities for Juanaflippa.

And she had the best teachers.

“Okay, Flippa – can I call you Flippa?”

Juanaflippa nods at Charlie, bouncing on her toes excitedly.

“Awesome! Alright, here’s how you hold a gun – ”

Just at that moment, you emerge from the store to see your boyfriend and Flippa standing side by side, Flippa clutching Charlie’s handgun awkwardly in her small hands.

“What the fuck, Charlie – ”

“Don’t curse around the baby!” he exclaims, shooting you a look and covering Flippa’s ears dramatically. The young girl just looks at you innocently, eyes wide behind her cracked glasses.

Dumbfounded, you set down the water you had brought out for them.

“You’re admonishing me for cursing, but you’re teaching her to shoot a gun?”

Shaking your head at them, you march back into the store to retrieve your shotgun, coming back out to stand watch for them in case any runners or scavengers got attracted to the noise of a clumsily fired handgun.

-

A few days later, you find yourselves back in the woods after getting chased out of the town by some stray runners that had caught you off guard. The moment the sound of ambling limbs and uncoordinated footsteps drew near, Charlie had scooped Juanaflippa up in his arms and raced away while you covered their backs, occasionally letting a gunshot ring when a runner got too close.

After ensuring you were no longer being chased by the pack of zombies, you and Charlie decided to set up camp in the woods. Charlie insisted on bringing Juanaflippa with him to collect firewood (which you knew was a poorly disguised excuse for bringing her aside to teach her how to kill some small woodland animal probably) but you quickly denied the man, offering to teach Juanaflippa how to set up camp instead.

“So, Flippa,” you asked as you teach her how to set up the tarp for shelter, “how did you come to find us in the woods?”

Flippa worried her lip, setting down her side of the tarp to take out the notebook and pen you had managed to scavenge for her. After scribbling down a few words, she turns the notebook to you:

I was left behind. We were attacked. I couldn’t find anybody.

“Oh,” you breathed shakily.

Flippa nodded before hanging her head. One of her hand lifts to wipe at her face as her shoulders start to shake.

“Oh, baby,” you whisper, before gathering her up in your arms. Her arms come to wrap around your neck, squeezing you back tightly as she buried her face into your neck.

“Flippa, I’m so sorry that happened to you,” you say as you rub circles into her back, “but we’ve got you now. Charlie and I will protect you, I promise.”

Juanaflippa takes a minute to calm down, and when she does, she pulls away slightly and brings one of her hands up to face. Opening her palm, with her pinkie facing you, she taps her thumb twice on her chin.

Curious, you tilt your head and ask, “What does that mean?”

A grin starts forming on Flippa’s face and she starts signing the letters to you. You feel tears well up in your eyes as you recognise the four-letter word as:

“Mama,” you choke on your words. Sniffling, you nod vigorously at the girl, gripping her tighter. “Yes, I’ll be your mama sweetheart. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I promise that I’ll keep you safe.”

Charlie returns to see the sobbing mess that you are, and a grinning, slightly teary-eyed Flippa. Knowing it took a lot to get you to cry, Charlie drops the bundle of wood he had collected and rushes to your side, holding the two of you and barraging you with a series of questions:

"Are you alright? What happened? Are you both okay?”

Flippa interrupts him by signing at him, making the same gesture as before but this time tapping her thumb twice on her forehead. Charlie frowns, confused and worried.

“What does that mean, Flippa?”

She manages to wriggle out of your grip slightly to pick up the discarded notebook and pen to write down one word:

Papa.

If you were emotional, Charlie was downright inconsolable. The three of you sit there on the forest floor, wrapped up in each other both physically and emotionally. Juanaflippa is sandwiched in a hug between the two of you, content to just be between the two humans who had decided to love her unconditionally that night in the woods.

By the time you calm down, the sun is starting to set, and you and Charlie both get to teach your daughter how to start a fire.

(“Charlie, please control your pyro tendencies,” you plead with him out of Flippa’s earshot. All you get is a non-committal “No promises.” and a wink.)

-

You make a couple days trek out of the woods and into the next town to search for more supplies. By this time, Flippa’s ankle had healed, and she was wearing tightly laced shoes Charlie had found in the last town. She was armed with a small knife (you had refused to let Charlie give her a gun) and walked between you and Charlie at all times.

Given that Juanaflippa was better equipped now, you and Charlie decided to take the chance and go on supply runs together as a family. It was a hard-fought battle between Charlie’s insistence and your anxiety, but he eventually reasoned it out with you, proposing a game plan.

Whenever you entered a new area, Charlie, being at the head of the group, would keep an eye out for potential hiding spots for Flippa, signalling them to you. If things went south, one of you would shout “Flippa, hide!” and point to one of the hiding spots for her to go to.

It was a fair plan, and the only way for him to convince you to let all three of you go on supply runs together.

Quietly, the three of you were sneaking into an abandoned grocery story in hopes you could scavenge some canned food, one of the supplies which dwindled the fastest now that you were a party of three and not two. The sliding glass doors were frozen half-open, allowing the three of you to slip through with no issue.

It was early in the afternoon, but the sunlight didn’t reach far enough into the grocery store for you to be able to see well inside. Electricity certainly didn’t work anymore, so after walking deeper into the store, the three of you took out your flashlights.

Too bad you didn’t notice the clicker first.

The sound of three flashlights clicking on at the same time was enough for the clicker to turn its gruesome, fungal head in your direction. The three of you freeze, breathing shallowly as the grotesque creature made its disturbing clicking noises. Charlie motions for the three of you to back away quietly, and so you do.

Too focussed on the clicker in front of you, you don’t notice the clicker that had crept up behind you until it clicks in your ear.

You side-step the clicker before it can take a chomp out of your neck, but not quick enough for you to avoid getting pulled down to the ground by it. There’s a high-pitched scream in the background, and you put all your strength into your hips and arms to quickly overpower the creature, rolling the two of you over and stabbing your knife into its neck. Mercilessly, you drag the knife, ripping it’s throat out in a spray of blood and gore to ensure it was dead.

The noise had prompted the clicker in front of your party to charge, and you could see Charlie engaging with it, dodging its arms, and slicing its jaw with his machete. Quickly, you turn your gaze to where Flippa was, ice seeping into your veins when you don’t notice her figure between yours and Charlie’s.

A second high-pitched scream rang out from your right.

Whipping your head further down the aisle, you notice a squirming mass on the floor, barely illuminated by the flashlights which had dropped to the floor. You sprint over to wrestle the third clicker off of Juanaflippa, yelling for Charlie to get Flippa out of the store. As your boyfriend scoops Flippa into his arms and runs out, you manage to climb onto the clicker’s back.

You’re briefly winded when the zombie knocks you into the shelf, but you quickly retaliate by plunging your knife deep into its chest several times, uncaring of how your hands were dripping in its blood. It finally drops to the ground, unmoving, and you sprint out of the store before any more unseen clickers or runners came looking for the source of the noise.

The first thing you saw was Charlie patting Flippa down, fussing over her and checking for injuries. You approach them after sheathing your knife, panic slowly dissipating seeing them out of danger.

“Are you both okay?” you ask, patting Flippa down quickly before turning to Charlie.

He pulls you in tightly and kisses you deeply, quickly pulling away when he remembers the small child watching. You catch his gaze briefly, noting his pupils still wide from adrenaline, before sweeping your gaze over the rest of his body to check for injuries.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, “Adrenaline rush. I think that’s the most action I’ve gotten in more than a week.”

You nod in agreement. Your right hand shakes slightly from leftover adrenaline, and you glance down to notice it soaked in blood that wasn’t your own. Nonchalantly, you wipe it against your pant leg.

“It was a little fun,” you admitted, but turning to Juanaflippa, you feel a stab of fear in you again. “But Flippa, oh my god, I’m so sorry, we should have been more careful.”

You scoop her up in your arms, hugging her tight. You can feel the erratic beating of her chest against your own, and your squeeze her a little just to remind yourself that she was okay. Pulling away from her slightly, you check her again.

“Are you alright? Did you get hurt?”

Juanaflippa shakes her head, holding up an OK sign. Satisfied, you ruffle her hair and stand up.

After that run in, neither you nor Charlie were in a state to go on another supply run, so you found an abandoned house to set up camp in. In a stroke of luck, you managed to find some leftover canned goods in the kitchen.

As you prepared dinner, you notice Juanaflippa draw into herself, doodling or writing something in her notebook. Worriedly, you turn to Charlie who was checking how much ammo you had left.

“Charlie, could you check on Flippa again?”

He looked up from your supplies, eyes darting over to where Flippa was before looking back at you.

“I checked on her just now,” he assures you. “She’s alright, just shaken. Said she needed some time alone.”

You hummed, not quite content with his answer, but accepting it. You hear a sigh, then footsteps, and a pair of arms was wrapping themselves around your waist.

“You’re worried,” Charlie mumbles into your hair.

“Of course I am,” you bite back, your gaze remaining focussed on the beans you were heating up on a makeshift stove.

“Love, you know it’s not your fault, right?”

You give a heavy sigh, gripping the spoon tightly.

“But she got hurt. We weren’t careful enough.”

“She’s alright, we checked her over multiple time.”

“She could’ve gotten bit.”

“But she didn’t.”

“But she could’ve,” you shot back, mindful to keep your volume low so that Flippa wouldn’t overhear your conversation.

The arms around your waist hug you tighter, and Charlie presses a kiss to your hair (which was dirty and slightly bloodied from the fight, but of course your boyfriend had to be a sweetheart).

“She’s okay,” he insists. “We all got a little roughed up, but we’re all fine. We’ll be more careful next time. And if anything happens, we’ll fight our hardest to make sure she’ll get out of it unscathed.”

A gentle hand reaches for your jaw, tilting your head towards him and giving you a light, reassuring kiss. You revel in the safety of being in Charlie’s arms, and in that moment, you feel as though you were sheltered from every horror the world could throw to you, both physical and emotional.

A tug at your pants draws your attention to the small girl who had made her way towards you two, giving you a cheeky grin as though she knew she was interrupting a moment. Letting out a playful sigh, Charlie picks her up and places a sloppy kiss on her cheek, which she protests by batting at his face.

You shake your head softly at them, turning your attention back to the food to ensure it didn’t burn. Your attention, however, was split again when Flippa and Charlie start launching double attacks on you, trying to outdo each other on the number of kisses they can sneak on your face as you cook.

(Charlie has Flippa in his arms, giving her an unfair advantage as he purposely sways her closer to you. He doesn’t acknowledge this when she cheers and raises her hands 5 to 2, signalling her win, but you shoot him a knowing look.)

As the night drew to a close, you tucked Juanaflippa into bed, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

If anything were to happen to her, you swore you would burn the world to the ground.

-

Everything was going to shit.

The three of you had decided to make a supply run the next day. You had banked on the hope that things would be more chill after the scare the previous day.

Of course, luck chose to run out on you today.

You had made it barely ten minutes into stuffing cans into your rucksacks when gunshots were ringing in the convenience store. Semi-automatic gun shots.

“Fucking Fireflies!” hissed Charlie as the three of you took cover behind the counter.

Your eyes scanned around, looking for a way out that was not blocked by the Fireflies. You notice the glass-less window by the counter.

“Charlie, roll your pipe bomb the other way, then sneak out with Flippa. I’ll give cover,” you whisper frantically.

Charlie nods at you before doing what you say. The bomb goes off, clearly taking some of the Fireflies down by the sound of pained screams, and the three of you are off. You whip out your shotgun and fire on the Fireflies nearest to you, taking down another two more before following Flippa and Charlie out.

Another series of gunshots ring out as you’re pulled down behind an abandoned car.

“Why the fuck is a whole squad here,” you curse.

“Hell if I know,” Charlie shoots back. He peeks up from the car to fire off a few shots from the semi-automatic rifle he had, cursing when empty clicks come out after only a few shots.

“Fuck! I don’t have anymore ammo for this stupid gun,” he says as he swings the gun over his back, pulling out another pipe bomb and throwing it at the Fireflies.

Between the two of you, Flippa is crouched with her hands over her ears, eyes wide and darting around. You wrap an arm around her shoulder, squeezing and trying to offer as much comfort as you can to the distressed girl.

“We’re going to get you out of this, Flippa, I promise.”

There’s another spray of bullets, then the sound of thundering footsteps. Gunshots start ringing again, but this time directed away from the three of you. Poking your head up from the car, you realise that a hoard of runners was attacking the Fireflies, clearly having been attracted by all the noise.

“Retreat!” one of the Fireflies yelled.

“Let’s go, now,” hissed Charlie, taking advantage of the chaos.

You follow Charlie as he leads the three of you through the chaos, ducking behind another car. However, it seems that the hoard was much bigger than you had realised because stragglers were starting to approach you too.

With your cover blown, you aim your shotgun and take down as many runners as you can, ears ringing slightly. As you reach into your pocket to grab more shotgun shells, you curse when you realise your pocket was empty.

“Fuck! Charlie, I’m out.”

“Your handgun?”

“Ran out of ammo in the store.”

“Fuck.”

You share a quick look of panic before he tosses you his machete. Turning to Flippa, he grabs her hand in his.

“Flippa, we’re gonna get you out of this. I’m gonna put you in a hiding place, okay? Don’t come out unless one of us comes to get you, alright?” he says, before glancing over at you.

You give him a short nod, before turning your attention to the runners. By now, you couldn’t hear anymore gunfire and you presumed that the Fireflies were either all dead or had fled.

One less set of problems for you.

You lunge at the nearest runner, slashing at it with your machete. You keep yourself between the runners and your family, trying your hardest to stop them from getting anywhere near where Charlie was trying to hide Flippa.

You let your mind fall back into the routine of combat, slashing and hacking at the runners with practiced ease. While Charlie’s machete weighed a little heavier on your hand, it gave you better range than your knife did.

In the corner of your eye, you spot Charlie return to the fray. He’s firing at the runners, landing lucky headshots, and taking down runners quicker than you do with the machete. You refrain from asking about Flippa, too high strung and tensed from the combat to break out of your hyperfocus.

One by one, the runners go down, but not fast enough. Your concentration breaks slightly when you hear a yell from Charlie. You turn around in time to see him get knocked down by a runner who got too close for him to shoot.

“Charlie!”

You try to rush over, but a pull at your pants holds you back. On instinct, you swing your machete without looking, turning to look right after the blade hits flesh with a heavy crunch.

Your blood runs cold when your gaze drops below your eye level to make eye contact with Juanaflippa, her eyes wide with fear.

Your gaze drops lower.

The blade was lodged right into the crook of her neck, blood spurting from the wound at a horrifying rate. Her blood seeps into her clothes, and what isn’t absorbed by the fabric drips down her arm.

The knife she was holding drops to the ground, right before her knees give out.

“NO!”

You barely register the scream you let out, focussed on catching Flippa in your arms to bring her softly to the ground. The machete drops to the floor the moment you let go, causing the wound to gush even more. Frantically, your hands press against Flippa’s neck, desperately trying to plug the wound.

Your world tunnel visions to just Juanaflippa. You feel words tumble out of your mouth, but you don’t register any of it. You don’t remember how to breathe.

Someone is shaking your shoulders. Muffled words rise to your ears. The person stops shaking you and you see arms enter your vision, reaching for Flippa –

“DON’T TOUCH HER!” you scream, one arm pulling her closer while the other still tries to stop the gushing wound. The fog lifts slightly and you finally hear Charlie’s voice saying:

“We need to go! More runners are coming.”

“Flippa, oh god – ”

“Fucking move Y/N!”

With incredible strength, Charlie picks Flippa up, balancing her on one arm while the other pulls you to your feet and drags you along with him. You don’t register where you’re going until you hear the door close behind you, and you realise you’re in a building.

Charlie softly puts Flippa on the ground before rushing back to the door to barricade it, ensuring you were safe from the zombies. But you barely notice his actions, your focus tunnelling into Flippa again.

You drop to your knees beside her, hands shakily pressing into her neck once more.

“Y/N stop.”

“No – Charlie – she’s bleeding, I need to stop it.” Your words come out in stuttered gasps.

“Y/N – ”

“I need cloth, gauze, oh my god where’s my medkit – ”

“Y/N, she’s – ”

“Charlie shut up! Help me, please – ”

Hands grab yours and tears them away from Flippa’s body. You protest with a cry, wrestling in Charlie’s grip as he forces one of your hands to Flippa’s chest.

You don’t feel a heartbeat.

You stop struggling.

“She’s dead,” says Charlie.

Your mouth opens and closes, but no words come out.

You stare at Flippa’s lifeless corpse.

Your hands slip from her chest to her upper arms limply, and you notice a scabbed over wound on one of her upper arms. Lifting the sleeve, you finally notice the bite mark.

Suddenly, you’re shoved away from Flippa’s body.

“Don’t you dare,” hisses Charlie, his demeanour changing like a switch turned on in him as he scoops Flippa’s body into his arms, shuffling away from you. “Don’t you dare touch her, you fucking murderer.”

You think your lungs stopped working. You think you’ve gone mute. But all you can do is stare.

“How could you!” he screams at you, tears spilling over. “She was our daughter!”

Numbly, you try to crawl towards them, but you’re stopped when Charlie draws his knife at you.

“Don’t come any fucking closer,” he heaves, one arm tight around Flippa. “I’ll kill you.”

That snaps you out of your stupor.

“Charlie – ” your voice cracks. “I – ”

“You don’t get to make excuses. This is all your fault.”

His eyes are blown wide, his entire frame shaking. Before you wasn’t your boyfriend, it was the horrifying consequence of your actions.

“Flippa – ”

“Keep her name out of your fucking mouth!” he shouts at you. But his attention draws to the girl in his arms.

Flippa’s eyes were still open, devoid of life and the playful glint that never seemed to go away. Her body was limp in Charlie’s arms, which now curl around her protectively, knife forgotten on the floor.

“Flippa,” he wails, holding her close to his chest, uncaring of how her blood stains his clothes or the fact that her body was growing steadily colder.

You watch the two of them, your greatest loves.

You look down at your bloodied hands.

You want to cry, but you can’t.

You stare.

-

You and Charlie spent the night in the secured building, neither of you having the energy to move, much less fight through a horde of runners your dead daughter in your arms.

(“This was her hiding spot,” scoffed Charlie as he cradled Flippa’s body in his arms. “But I guess she wanted to come out and help”.

He glances at you from across the room. While you hadn’t moved from your spot, Charlie had shuffled himself and Juanaflippa’s body as far away from you as possible.

“I wish she hadn’t thought you worth helping,” he spits.)

The next day, once you were sure the runners had drifted off somewhere else, the two of you exited the building and brought Juanaflippa’s body to a nearby forest.

You buried her body by a tree, marking her resting place with a small stone that Charlie had carved her name into.

(Charlie finally notices the bite mark on her upper arm. You could see the gears turning in his head, questions welling up in his mind. But he heaves a heavy sigh, and you gather that he probably reached the same conclusion you did:

It didn’t matter anymore.)

You each speak your final words to Juanaflippa. Charlie casts loathing glances at you the whole time.

You camp near her grave for one night. You move on the next, survival instincts pushing the two of you back onto the monotonous routine of kill-scavenge-camp.

You and Charlie don’t speak to each other unless it was necessary, and even then, Charlie’s voice is laced with a poison you had never heard from your lover before. The animosity drives you to sleep apart from each other, never coming within two metres of each other.

Some nights, you wonder if you wouldn’t wake up at all.

Some mornings, you wish you hadn’t woken up at all.

Five days after Juanaflippa’s death, you’re taking stock of your shared supplies. As you pour out the contents of your rucksack onto the carpeted floor of the abandoned house, a folded note drops out along with the metal tin cans.

Unfolding it, you immediately recognise Flippa’s chicken scratch handwriting.

“Charlie,” you croak out, voice rough from disuse.

“Fuck off.”

You glance over to wear Charlie was laying by the opposite wall. You gesture the paper at him, knowing he could probably see it in his peripheral vision.

“It’s a note. From Flippa.”

He turns towards you slightly, and you can tell he’s debating whether or not to come over. His anger clearly trumps over any other emotion because he says:

“Read it, I’m not coming over.”

You open the note fully, and begin reading:

Dear Mama and Papa, thank you for being there for me. You saved me in that forest, and you taught me so many things. The past elaven ellen eleven days have been the best of my life. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the bite. I know what it means. I’m sorry that I’m going away soon. But I want you to know that it was not your fault. I love you both very much. Please live well. Love, Flippa.

You don’t realise that you’d begun crying until your tears clouded your vision. Shakily, you put down the letter, scooting away in case Charlie wanted to come over to read it.

You swipe your hands over your eyes, but nothing seemed to stop the tears from falling. You let out a whimper that turns into unbridled wails of despair you’d kept bottled up over the last five days. Burying your head in your hands, you shake and cry.

You don’t hear Charlie move until arms wrap around you. You flinch away from him, a warbled apology coming out from your mouth, but he holds you tighter.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you repeat over and over, hands shaking as you try to pry yourself from the man you know hates you.

“It’s not your fault,” he says, and you can hear him holding back tears.

“IT WAS MY FAULT. I promised I would keep her safe and I KILLED HER,” you yell back at him, hands reaching for your hair to pull and pull because you deserved all the pain from the same hands that tore Juanaflippa away from this world.

Charlie’s hands reach for yours, prying them away from your head and holding them by your side. You try to wrestle them out from his grip, but he holds your wrists tighter. His legs and arms cage you in, holding you close to him as he whispers apologies and words of comfort between his own tears.

Finally, you stop fighting him, and you sob into your boyfriend’s chest. Charlie lets you breakdown, lets you finally come to terms with everything that had happened, and comforts you through it all.

“It’s not your fault,” he repeats.

One of his hands comes up to wipe your cheeks.

“I’m sorry for the words I said.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you can feel how his cheeks are wet with his own tears.

“I still love you.”

Charlie holds you until the tears run out. He holds you until you stop shaking. He holds you even when words start tumbling out of your mouth again. He holds you as he counters every self-deprecating apology with apologies of his own and whispers of love.

In the abandoned house that was once possibly home to a loving family, a broken one reconciles over the shared loss of a beloved daughter.

-

Weeks pass. You and Charlie heal together and move on together, but Juanaflippa is never forgotten, always held close to your memories.

As you lay by a brook, taking a break from supply runs to simply relax, you turn to your boyfriend and ask:

“Charlie, are we bad people?”

Your boyfriend turns to you, grasping your hand in his and kissing it, before pulling you into a warm hug.

“Maybe we are,” he says, holding you close. “But just for those twelve days, I think we were the best of people.”

The End.

[roadroller03]

Can you guys imagine making TOP lore into a video game? Like the open-world game where you find other Banditos in different campsites? "Sahlo Fonlina" as the call sign to see others? Ned as your guide? Escaping Dema? Blurryface the final boss? Finding Trash the Dragon? Music video cutscene at the end of each main quest? SWIM THE PALADIN STRAIT? This is gonna be some Starwars Jedi Fallen Order/Survivor level type of shit.

also tyler pls release the Paladin Strait mv i swear mf we gonna throw u back to Dema

[leonenjoyer69]

I hope you don't mind this ask, but I'm in a huge Jekyll and Hyde hyperfixation rn (both TGS and OG novella) and I saw a post from you about how "Cotard's Solution" fits his Vibe; did you ever go on a ramble of Will Wood songs that fit Jekyll/Hyde? I'd love to hear them! I'm usually either an emo rock or hyperpop fan but I'd love to dip my toes into more Will Wood ever since my friends have shown me his songs :] I hope this isn't too much of an ask!

OF COURSE I DON'T MIND HEHEHE >:3 (also I'm so so sorry I kept forgetting about this 💀 BUT I'VE FINALLY DONE IT), I did originally connect a bunch of will wood songs to TGS characters in this post, and then I talked a bit about my Jekyll and Hyde playlist here (tho these are all various artists and Chonny Jash, not will wood, still a good collection of songs imo! Especially if you like emo rock and Hyper pop!!), but I would gladly go into detail about a bunch of Will Wood songs and how I connect them to TGS/J&H once more >:3

I LOVE WILL WOOD I'M SO NORMAL (also if there's any specific song from that first post, the honorable mentions in this, or my playlist that anyone wants an explanation for, just ask, bc idrk off the top of my head what to explain lmao, and if I have the thinking capacity to, I love explaining my reasoning!! :3)

OKAY OKAY, I'm probably not gonna hit many songs, but I'll try to get a few :3 I usually don't do these this in depth and I don't wanna make it too horribly long 💀

FIRST UP, A FRESH ONE I HAVEN'T TALKED ABOUT (bc apparently it hasn't been on my main playlist... I'm kinda slow sometimes): SKELETON APPRECIATION DAY

HEAR ME OUT, the "bones" could be interpreted as Hyde, or just all of Jekyll's hidden parts-- anything that isn't the perfect gentleman he prefers to show. And like!!! The lyrics can be connected so easily!! "While my cracking backbone lacks but backs up my false starts" transformation, next.

"All nightmares start as dreams and I hear my subconscious screaming" I don't even feel like I gotta say anything on that one.

"All love starts as a scheme, So wake me up, I'm tired of sleeping" bro literally didn't believe Lanyon loved him, the 'waking up' could be the first transformation.

And like!! The chorus!! "Bones, bones, bones, let me see your bones / Well, I don't wanna know if the feeling follows home /Bones, bones, bones, hell, we're all alone / If I come home, baby, will you show your bones?" Hell, I can see this as Jekyll asking (or at least wishing for) Lanyon to be more vulnerable, but!! Better yet, Lanyon asking/wishing that of Jekyll, since he knows how Jekyll just tends to cover everything up.

Idk, maybe I'm just talkin outta my ass, but I think this is really up there on my list of TGS-able Will Wood songs.

NEXT (another fresh song I haven't rambled about before): HALF-DECADE HANGOVER

I LOVE THIS SONG SM!!! I EAT IT UP EVERY TIME IT COMES ON!! PROBABLY MY FAV WILL WOOD SONG RN!!

Anyways, this song is so so soooo angstily Jekyll coded, let's go straight to the lyrics >:3

"Wonder how I didn't die / This is not my life. I'm no survivor, I only happened to survive" right out the gate, first lines. Bro literally drank chemicals and now shares half his life with an entirely different consciousness.

"Down the days I have left, with one eye open"- could be him drinking the potion, with the one eye open being only half of him--"That was me screaming "Bitch, I am reality" / And stumbling off to lose myself in a brown paper bag cause me and / Sweet Evan Williams got a date down on Avenue / A staving shakes scraping change till daybreak / Turns out anyone can eat out the trash / Then wake up on the freeway mid-crash" could literally just be Hyde doing stupid shit and Henry regaining control 'mid-crash', ie when problems arise because of either of them tbh.

And the chorus!!! "Cause I was drunk when I made my bed / Now with a half-decade hangover I lay down in it /What have I done? Don't know what I've said / It's a half-decade hangover, either this, in jail, or dead / It's a half-decade hangover, Jesus Christ my aching head" bro was at his worst when he made that potion, and now he's stuck with the consequences. And the "this, in jail, or dead" those are the only options he thinks he has to deal with Hyde now!!

"Tripped on a couple steps, and collapsed on the stairs / Broke my neck on the backs of those who I've hurt and scared" my guy has been lying to everyone around him for years, but now everythings falling apart and it's coming back to bite him in the ass so hard now.

LAST LYRIC BC AT THIS RATE I'LL THROW THE WHOLE SONG IN-- "Sober, but still so much still hangs over / Please believe me when I say I poured my whole past down the drain / Say that a second chance is a chance I can take" first of all, the poured my whole past down the drain could be him literally giving up the man he was and taking the potion, OR, him dumping all the potions in that one scene, teehee. Secondly, the second chance part and the lines that follow in the song, totally him at Lanyon.

Next: OUTLIARS AND HYPPOCRATES

This one to me is a very Hyde song, specifically him talking to Jekyll.

"Cause I doubt that you would even if you could change / You think it makes you special, but it makes you strange / I doubt that you would even if you could change / The things that make you special are the things that make you strange" could be Hyde tellin Jekyll that he wouldn't get rid of him, even if he could, because it makes Jekyll fell better about his "lonely prince" persona, as Jasper put it lmao.

"I am the shadows cast aside by gallows, and you the red-hot sky" I just really like thinking about this line with them bc ✨imagery✨. Like, shadow Hyde, check. Gallows? Hell yeah. Red-hot sky? We got color AND, by proxy, sun and moon references, Let's go 🗣️

"You become immune to my toxic fumes / My dose-dependent presence in your life / It's all subjective, all due respect to the collective mind" I mean like. Toxic looking green potion. 'Collective mind', they're both parts of the same guy.

"Horrified at the sight of my reflection in your eyes, I don't belong there" mmmmm bodyswap mishaps 🤤

"Well, it's your conclusions that make mine delusions, so I make you sane / You can thank me later" idk how to explain it but the way this is said just gives major Hyde vibes, you get it, right chat?

"Who'd want to belong to anyone? (Ay, ay, ay, ay) I mean, what do people even do? / So, if you love me, let me let you go, my love (ay, ay, ay, ay), so I can be no one" him and his little crush/loathing on Lanyon, the silly

Next!!: MR CAPGRAS ENCOUNTERS A SECONDHAND VANITY

Literally the Jekyll and Hyde song ever. I mean, it starts with "you're trying to replace yourself" 💀

"Carving out a fact from a reckoning! /Beckoning your back, skin sagging off its skeleton / Levitating off the ground / Is another man wearing your face" LIKE DO I EVEN GOTTA SAY ANYTHING? This whole song is about false identities 😭

"All the other false identities / Remedies or enemies to mitigate your memories / Shuddered at what they found / When they stripped away the grace" like...

"Damn, I thought you're not your imposter / You're so sure you're not gonna get caught / Dead in your own skin / But you didn't choose what you were born in" this song gives big vibes for chapter 14 and 15, with the constant switching and fear of identity reveal and such.

"What you feel and what you do, are those things really you? / And if not, then what is? (Never, never, never) / So, my God, what's wrong with you? / And I'm still asking who that is" I really like thinking about this part as Lanyon asking Jekyll those things, even without an identity reveal! Since he puts up this gentleman facade and hides everything, Lanyon barely knows who Jekyll is.

"You'll never take me alive, baby (this is not enough) / You'll never take me alive (this is not enough to prove it yet) / You'll never take me, you'll never take me, you better pray that I die (no, I need to hit the bottom)" This part feels like a simultaneous Hyde and Jekyll part, with Jekyll being the parenthesised parts. Hyde being all cocky n shit while Jekyll tries to figure things out or something, idk lmao running low on explanation brain cells.

Honorable mentions that I just don't feel like explaining in depth rn, but probably could!!

The Song With 5 Names- very Jekyll coded

Dr Sunshine is Dead- kinda Jekyll coded, but VERY Hyde coded

2econd 2ight 2eer- the Hyde song ever

6up 5oh Copout- another mega Hyde song, if I could animate it would be over for y'all

Against The Kitchen Floor- Jekyll and Lanyon, these gay people make me upset

Cicada Days- also very Jekyll and Lanyon :(

Hand Me My Shovel!- Jekyll coded, I like to think of him making the potion

Basically, 90% of Will Woods discography can be spun to fit these silly characters. I love Will Wood guys :3 sometimes I wish I could verbally ramble about this kinda stuff, but also words are hard (and it makes me feel annoying lmao) 💔💔 but anyways!!! Thank you for the ask! I hope Will Wood consumes you just as well as it has most of the TGS fandom :3 <333

[beehiveofblorbos]

It’s August 15th! Happy Birthday, Tsumugi Shirogane!

Tsumugi is such a conflicting character for me! She’s the character I like that I think I could be the closest friends with off the drop, and a character I would push off a cliff without any hesitation. Overall, I would say she’s one of my favorite characters in fiction. I’ll drop an analysis I did of why I love her so much and what she means to me below, but for now, today is just to celebrate and make happy the Queen herself, Tsumugi Shirogane!

(lol sorry for all these copy-paste analyses I just am never prepared and it’s a good excuse to share stuff I already had written)

Analysis

The biggest crime, imo, that a character can commit… is being boring. Be rude, be evil, be sappy, be a loyal dog, be anything except uninteresting, unobtrusive, uninvolved.

So by the start of the ch6 investigation, I plain disliked Tsumugi Shirogane. Particularly as she was such a waste of the Cosplayer talent, which was something I was really excited for as someone who loves fan communities. I was super disappointed with the portrayal fans had had so far in Hifumi exactly falling in to assumptions people make about fans, and now Tsumugi seemed to be in line to be Sonia 2.0. All she’d really had as far as plot impact was be Gonta’s only true friend. She wasn’t really comic relief either; she had moments paused and timed for comedic effect, but they weren’t funny. She was just… weird.

And then. My god, when we pulled that shot put out of the trash, and Shuichi remarked about the pink fiber on it? When I realized Tsumugi was the mastermind? The one who’d been living among us all this time??? Instantly rose to become one of my top favorite Danganronpa characters. To this day I use her “oops, I let my hobbies slip in again” and other quotable lines as stock phrases XD I just can’t help myself, she’s so cute

She is absurdly intelligent; if you go back through and pay attention, Tsumugi is constantly generating conflict in subtle ways. She joins Angie’s cult to give them a significant enough percent of the class to be a real threat, in the trial she keeps diverting the topic back around to ghosts to keep Kaito scared and keep Shuichi off track, it goes on. You literally can’t help but see what she’s doing once you know that she’s actually being intentional about it, because it’s all a perfectly reasonable “role”: that of the sweet, naive Ultimate Cosplayer. And yeah, that’s why there’s a pause and focus for all of those jokes I didn’t get earlier - they’re horrifying AND funny in the light of the truth of the game

She is supremely arrogant; she spends her entire time in a killing game winking at the camera and making veiled references. Can you imagine the audacity involved in writing Kokichi? She wrote in an insanely intelligent character, gave him a motive video telling him to end the killing game, and had him survive almost till the end? She was so confident - and she was almost right to be so, because he never caught her. But he did manage to force her into stalemate so XD

She gives them sooo much leeway. She gives them Miu, she gives them Keebo, she gives Rantaro the Survivor Perk. What does she care? She’s perfectly designed everything to lead them to entrap themselves and keep killing each other. No mind control necessary - just suffering. And she considers this essential to be called the Ultimate Cosplayer.

She’s an actress. It’s part of her talent, but the entire world is essentially a stage, she’s the director and one of the main characters, and all the other characters are her props to move as she pleases. Isn’t that wild? I love her to bits for it.

[mythicalartistx]

I hate Master Odin from DR and my opinions of the other Masters

Mickey

Mickey is constantly hated in KH but there is someone who deserves it so much more. First of all he only knew Aqua was in the realm of darkness for a year.

Then Yen Sid commanded him not to go, plus he was busy with dealing with Organization XIII, then the Journal, and the exams Sora and Riku took. And the last two only probably took a month or so each.

Then he tried to find her with Riku's help because it's probably better to go with another person....

I don't get it especially when Odin— the worse master to ever happened exists.

And Mickey did so much for Riku and helps him when he needs someone.

I hate Odin with so much passion and one of the main reasons is that he isn't shown as doing anything wrong. They treat it like he didn't make any mistakes.

Ansem

He makes Ansem look so good in comparison —who I have mixed feelings on and I think Ansem's change of heart isn't genuine and seems way too fast.

Like the dude is talking trash about nobodies and how they don't deserve to exist and they have no feelings. Then suddenly at the end you regret that and is like I'm sorry Roxas?? Like why? How did you get to this reason?

It doesn't seem genuine and then he sacrifices himself like oh now we're supposed to feel bad because he did this one good thing?

And Riku did not need to deal with this guy, he's awful.

But back to him.

Odin

This guy is the reason why Xehanort is the way he is. He set him on the path. Odin can't understand mental health. This student of his was going through some things because his sister was missing and presumably dead. He was not in a good head space and depressed so Odin decides to isolate him??

Yeah.....

Not a good thing.

It makes him worse and then darkness influences him🤦

And then there are these missing students so he decides the best thing to find the students are to send his INEXPERIENCED UNDERCLASSMEN?

It makes no sense.

It's stupid.

They could also get hurt.

Why doesn't he A MASTER TRY TO LOOK FOR THEM or send I don't know another master???

But he send Xehanort Eraqus and several others.

And basically them going to worlds make it where they question how things are which lead Xehanort down his path of destruction. It makes him curious about darkness and curious if it's right or wrong to dwell in world's affairs even if it's a world with people doing bad things.

Then the student who was not in a good place... Yeah Baldr gets influenced by darkness badly and wants to hurt and decides to kill everyone

IT'S NOT GOOD

And then Xehanort and Eraqus are the only ones left. So Odin decides to tell Xehanort to kill him.

And Xehanort has been having thoughts about darkness and light and what everything means. And he didn't exactly disagree with some of the things Baldr said.

WHY WOULD HE PLACE THE BURDEN ON XEHANORT?

And by doing that he cause him to eventually go down dark path.

Then Odin retires.

I'M SO GLAD.

He deserves to retire after failing and being an awful person and master.

Like dude is so bad.

But that's not until he sends the two survivors into taking the mark of mastery exam which is a stupid exam which always have bad things happen.

And Xehanort meets The Master of Master who honestly seems chaotic and just does things because he is bored. That's my gist of this guy. An he's not good for him.

He causes him to go farther in and become worse.

Yeahhhhhhh

He gets so interested learning about darkness and light. He probably heard about things relating to kingdom hearts from M.O.M.

Then Xehanort leaves Eraqus and when he comes back he's different. Eraqus can tell and realizes he has been obsessed with darkness. They even get in fights. It doesn't go well.

And Odin isn't heard from again thank goodness.

If Sora dealt with this guy man it would be so bad.

Master Yen Sid

Now he isn't that great.

For one he believes all nobodies are bad?

Like why? They just want hearts to live. They aren't bad people. But he makes Sora think really bad of them.

Also he doesn't really do much. He seems to be really strong as shown in kh3 but he just sits back and lets all the kids do everything.

During the exam in DDD, it was rigged because of Xehanort. And Sora doesn't pass because Riku dived in a second time. BUT SORA WOULD DEFINITELY DO IT FOR RIKU.

It's the stupidest reason why Sora didn't pass. I'm fine with the idea of Sora not becoming a master yet BUT MAYBE DO A BETTER REASON OR SOMETHING

Yen Sid is dumb.

Also not allowing anyone to go back to search for Aqua until kh3

And taking the exam in the first place is dumb. They just realized that something bad is in the midst from the recoded events and then he summons Sora and Riku to take this exam.

They don't think someone might try to mess with it AT ALL??

Also as Sora said, they proved themselves several times. Only because of Riku insecurities they end up taking it. Riku's still doesn't believe in himself and fears his darkness a bit...

So Sora takes because Riku does. He just wanted to take it with him and be with him by doing so.

Yeah that doesn't work out.

Also Yen Sid training Kairi with Axel is kinda bad??? Like they should have helping them instead of endlessly training. It doesn't seem that great since they both easily gets knocked away.

But yeah, it's not too good but it's not necessary bad.

Eraqus

He's a pretty decent Master. And when I say decent I mean he tried. What he does that no one else does is he APOLOGIZES. He acknowledges what he does is wrong in kh3. He hugs all of them and apologizes. It seems genuine.

And after dark road his actions make sense he does what he does because he's afraid of them dying from darkness like Baldr or being corrupted and dangerous.

Though I HAVE NO IDEA why he brought Xehanort around?

Did he not remember??

He sees all three of his apprentices as his own.

He has Aqua look out for Terra because he was worried. But he realizes how much pressure he put on her.

As for Ven he thinks destroying him is the best way to stop the χ blade from being forged and doing what Xehanort wants.

IMMEDIATELY AFTER HE REGRETS IT.

He is like how could I raise my hand against you, talking to Terra and referring to Ventus.

And Terra protects Ventus because he cares for him and he uses darkness for a good reason.

And I'm not going into Aqua because she doesn't really do that much with others besides watch Terra which Eraqus told her to do, it's not from her own decisions and things. She doesn't really have time to act that much. And afterwards she is by herself in the realm of darkness.

Riku, I'm not going into either because he doesn't do much yet involving his title.

[guiltycorp]

this might be a controversial opinion, but I think Shoko’s ‘I was there too’ was another expression of the author’s slide into sexism in the latter half of JJK

because the thing is, at the time of reading the backstory arc, I thought it was an exceptionally good decision not to involve Shoko in the main plot too much despite being the typical 1 girl 2 boys as per shonen standards, she refused to engage with them on a narrative level from her words about ‘never becoming trash like those two’ to her consistent avoidance of getting involved in their conflicts, Shoko also never presented her own stance on strong vs weak or non-sorcerers vs sorcerers, she just wanted to do her own thing and let the boys sort out themselves

and when letting Gojo know the whereabouts of the newly snapped Geto, she says ‘no way, i don’t want to be killed’, which is obviously another valid reason why she didn’t want to participate in their break-up thing

...for a ‘girl character in a trio’ this complete avoidance is an admirably fresh character trait!! if she tried to act like a true supportive friend, she would inevitably have to take on the emotional burden of her two male classmates no matter how empathetic Geto was as a person, with his slide into complete breakdown it would still fall on Shoko to try and handle it emotionally, leading to an unsatisfactory sexist trope similarly to Nobara who never acted as the ‘safe-rational-emotional core of the group’, Shoko never fell into the trap of being a prop for male characters’ feelings and decisions   

moreover, it worked well in that arc specifically because there were other female characters who actually did serve as exactly that, changing both Gojo and Geto for good despite this being another ‘female character dies for male character progression’ i think it still worked pretty well due to Riko representing the established cycle of innocent youth dying because of their messed up society 

(...and also because this was far from the only factor influencing both Gojo and Geto) 

one could argue that still, with Shoko and Yaga being the only survivors who knew Gojo and Geto that well (the extent of Nanami’s closeness to them seems unclear to me) Gojo never remained alone ...but Yaga was another cog in the system, consecutively failing his students time and time again and Shoko... well, in the fanbook, it was said that she’s neutral and doesn’t have a preference between Gojo and the higher-ups, and yeah, she didn’t comment on any of his rants about changing the status-quo

of course, she still did what he asked her to do (writing off Yuji as ‘deceased’ on the report) and she is not completely heartless as seen in the JJK0 movie where she immediately left the room as soon as Yaga called for Geto’s immediate execution  there’s also the ambiguous way Kenjaku phrased this where it could mean either that Gojo himself didn’t want to fully destroy Geto’s body or that he didn’t want Shoko to do it to spare her feelings (personally i’m leaning more towards the first option tho tbh) ‘You are only considerate during such awkward moments’.

BUT THE POINT IS, no matter how valid for her own character, she did absolutely leave both Gojo and Geto alone! purposefully so, too so for the author to suddenly bring up her own feelings making it seem as if it’s Gojo who ignored her steadfast support and presence in his life is... just a return to the more basic tenets of ‘woman longs to be appreciated by a man but the man is busy doing other more important things’

like, Gojo is a dumb bitch with extremely low emotional intelligence who relies a little too much on his personal understanding of strength when it comes to forging connections but to pretend that Shoko was there for him or Geto is a disservice to all of their characters also, while it’s canon that Gojo doesn’t let himself open up to anyone other than Geto, it’s not like there are people by his side who’d be willing to listen to him anyway?... it’s not a coincidence that both Utahime and Nanami have a lot of Geto’s more admirable traits and yet dislike Gojo instead of enjoying his company and to me it’s a shame that fandom jumped so readily on this perceived dynamic of poor left-out Shoko...

she was never left out, she left on her own time and time again!

[triplexdoublex]

We cannot say Megan was the first celebrity he linked up with but while before all he cared about was NETWORKING and living the glory - to one day tell the story-, with Megan he started putting into consideration the clout he can instantly get.... and for this I really BLAME TRAVIS BARKER, that man.

All this circus for pop punk and his 'has-been' drummer career to come back AND for his label mogul career to take off. I'm sure he was in Kells ears telling him how this would benefit his rebrand and help him get away from 'Bad Boys' as Interscope would be more willing to focus on him and back him up (yes, he was always signed with them, but he REALLY started teaming up with them around 2018 and it was only for that staged Eminem beef, allegedly).

I also believe with Sommer Ray, something NEW about celebrities 'hook ups' like never before must have clicked and that is EGO. During that time, as many IG 'fitness' 'models' were out there, Sommer was the ONE no teenage boy or young man in America- black, white or other - could shut up about. Notice how even the guys were so invested in her- especially Rook who would later advice him to be in that Z-list movie with Megan. Sommer situationship really walked so Megan's could run; her 2009 role was peek 'young average male' fantasy woman.

Usually PR main gain is an UPGRADED image: Jay Z himself, R. Kelly associate, was only allowed to seat at certain tables after he associate himself with somebody so GREAT it over-shadowed the image of the crack dealer from Marshall project who shot his own biological brother at 12 yo over some deal. What's odd about the whole Twin Flame PR scheme is that it achieved the exact OPPOSITE for Kells. Megan is too insecure and talentless to team up with her partner to build eachother up.

The hate he gets on the daily has nothing to do with any sense of social envy but has anything to do with HER. That woman made sure to latch onto him as she won't land anything better (I'm sure his 'size' and looks helped and sponsoring vitamins on IG won't pay the bills, three CS checks and the divorce settlement). And to really secure him, she had to destroy his image from the start: gain levarage on him - so that, if he ever was to leave- she would be the victim.

In the private sphere she made sure to discover all weaknesses, feed his addictions (lines of coke on plastic tits and ayahuasca trips) and dig into his childhood (disgusting for her to use a poetry book to out 'one of her pretty boys' as a childhood S Assault survivor and blame their absent parents for everything and upbringing, yuck).

His last project gave me hope maybe he finally realized SHE is his BIGGEST enemy. Hopefully he's toxic enough to actually make run her away: for once in his life RUNNING AWAY PEOPLE MIGHT actually BE his BIGGEST BLESSING! Otherwise I don't see her ever letting go. She is too clingy. She's the type of person you actively need to cut off from your life.

HARD DISAGREE about Travis!! Especially saying he’s a “has been” that man is a fucking LEGEND!! I was a Blink girl wayyyy before I was a MGK girl. He’s always been drumming and producing and working on something. The only times he’s probably even has a break when when he was he was recovering from a plane crash he somehow survived despite having 3rd degree burns over 65% of his body , and he still came back strong!

The rest …in a nutshell, yeah this PR bullshit definitely hasn’t worked in his favor at all but let’s be honest he was already getting hate before she came along too , but she’s definitely increased it by playing victim. And yeah she’s an absolute trash human being for outing the SA in her “poetry book” especially since it heavily suggested it was kells who was abused because she mentioned the “history of family curses” he’s always said his family was cursed and even says in new songs how his family is cursed for 7 generations.

Yeah I had hope too until the were at stagecoach together, whether it be a pr stunt or them actually getting back together who knows? I just want her gone for good .

[creepy-friday]

What mains would the creeps have in Dead by Daylight

EJ

-surprisingly doesn't like Hag(reminds him too much of himself) and would main Wraith(when he's playing survivor he ends up saving everyone with borrowed and would sacrifice himself,I don't see him liking the game too much tbh)

BEN

-plays Sadako or Trickster,might end up playing Merchant only to drop her and to main survivor(Feng with that bunny cosmetic)+annoying others while glithching and lagging the game

Jeff

-he thinks Legion(mostly Frank)is edgy and ends up playing Doctor just because he's a little shit and likes to hear the survivors screaming

Toby

-he's trash at the game and ends up being bullied at the exit gates everytime he plays Huntress(his aim is shit) so he mains Trapper and brings a mori with him

Masky

-rage quits. A LOT. He can't keep his calm and ends up smashing the keyboard or the screen(his anger issues are real REAL) everytime he gets bullied or when he's face camped/tunneled. Plays Wesker or Laurie(100% has spine chill and DS but doesn't enjoy playing survivor that much).He would also delete the game if a Slenderman chapter would come out

Hoodie

-mains Pig and lures in survivors by letting them bopping the snoot then face camping them

Jane

-she would abuse noed and blood warden while playing The Artist,she would also buy every black cosmetic for characters she doesn't even play lol

Nina

-she plays Legion(Susie) and buys every colourful cosmetic available to her,might switch to Clown everytime she encounters toxic sfw teams

[corpocyborg]

WIP Whenever

Tagged by @illusivesoul. (Thank you!)

I'm going to share a bit from a future chapter of Secure Your Soul, which is my AU where Corpo!V never leaves Arasaka. I have previously posted this bit on tumblr, but it's been edited since then and it's been a while and unfortunately I don't have a lot of new content... so here it is again. 😅

--

CHAPTER TBD: FEED THE DEMON

V wasn't sure how much time had passed, but as she started to regain lucidity, she became gradually aware of Johnny's voice in her head.

"I mean, for fuck's sake, V," Johnny was saying. "I've seen your memories. The things you've done for 'Saka. You've killed. Blackmailed. Ruined lives. And for what? Corporate rep? Profit margins? How do you fuckin’ live with yourself?"

V stopped dead in her tracks. She couldn't remember how she'd gotten here. The alley she was in was abandoned. Litter lined the sidewalk, and the street lamps were barely flickering. In a dark corner nearby, a stray dog was busy devouring a rat.

For a few seconds, V just watched it. Homeless dogs were a rare sight in Night City. This one was dark gray and half its left ear was missing. It looked lean and muscular, and it tore off chunks of its prize with a ferocity that domestic dogs almost never displayed.

"You see that?" she asked Johnny.

Johnny's physical image materialized in the alley. He leaned against the wall—appeared to lean, she reminded herself—and gazed at the dog. "See everything you see," he replied.

"You're looking. You're not seeing."

"That so? And what'm I supposed to be seeing?"

"The evolutionarily synchronized relationship between predator and prey."

Johnny looked up from the dog and stared at her. She could see the anger on his face, but she could also feel him manifesting that same anger inside her body. No matter. She'd make it hers. Anger was an emotion she could work with.

"You see one dog eating one rat," V continued, allowing some of Johnny's anger to seep into her voice, directing it back at him. "In your interpretation, there's one winner and one loser. It's accurate, in a way. The dog wins. Look at him. He's a survivor. Even you should be able to recognize that."

Johnny didn't answer. His image was looking away from her, eyes locked on the warring animals. But she could still feel him fuming. Only now it was hard to tell where his anger ended and hers began. She continued speaking.

"You don't see the bigger picture. For every dog having dinner tonight, dozens starve. For every rat providing the main meal, dozens get away. They're fast enough or clever enough to escape.

"Only the best dogs feed, only the best rats live. And because of this, over generations, both species improve. In the end, the prey species benefits just as much as the predator species does. And the world gets better."

"The world." Johnny repeated the phrase slowly. She tasted his revulsion on her tongue. "This world?" he asked. He gestured at the trash-strewn alleyway. The dog had finished its meal and had settled to sleep in a blanket likely left there before by a homeless person. "This is your brave new world?"

"No, Johnny," she responded, her voice echoing the revulsion he'd forced her to feel. "These are just the rats that got caught."

---

And, now for my tags...

@merge-conflict, @gamerkitten, @luvwich, @fereldanwench and @another-corpo-rat

No pressure of course as always.

[blackjackkent]

Ahhhh, I'm excited - time to meet Minthara properly! (And to figure out a reason not to let Rakha just finish the job of killing her. :P )

-----

"I WILL NOT BE SLANDERED!"

The words echo to the high rafters of Moonrise Towers' central chamber just as Rakha and her companions push in through the main doors.

The room itself is an extraordinary display of decayed opulence. A ragged carpet of faded velvet lines the pathway to the dais at the front, upon which is a sturdy stone throne. This central path is flanked by ornate columns and long, low benches that suggest this was once a gathering place - a meeting hall or church perhaps. All of it is draped in dust and cobwebs like a recently opened tomb.

No one is making use of the benches, though. The small crowd in the room is all clustered around the dais, where some sort of impromptu tribunal appears to be taking place.

A bearded half-elf in full plate armor is sitting on the throne. He looks almost bored; his head is leaned on one hand and he is lounged back with an attitude of utter disinterest. At his side stands a half-orc about Rakha's own height, whose eyes are narrowed in visible rage. Both of them are staring down at the prisoner under examination - a lithe, muscular elf in dark armor in a strange design of layered metal.

Rakha realizes with a sudden start that she knows all three of these people. She doesn't know how she knows the half-elf or the half-orc, but both faces ring like bells in her empty memory. And the drow...

Rakha blinks several times rapidly. I *killed* you. What are you doing here?

It is definitely Minthara, the drow commander from the goblin camp, a woman Rakha thought she killed weeks ago now. Yet here she stands, on trial before other Absolutists, fully intact. At first Rakha thinks she must be mistaken, that this must be some other drow with similar hair, similar armor...

...except that the commander is barefoot. Shadowheart is currently wearing the boots they took from Minthara's supposed corpse.

"General - you saw my reports!" Minthara cries urgently, spreading her hands towards the half-elf man in a gesture of supplication. "You know it's not my fault!"

General, Rakha thinks. Her skin prickles with sudden agitation, the arrested urge to dart forward and strike. Minthara called the man General; he is Ketheric Thorm, the leader of the Absolutists. The half-orc, then, must be the Disciple the guards spoke of - Z'Rell.

Her head aches with some half-realized vision. She knows both faces, both names, but why?

"The facts suggest otherwise," snaps Z'Rell, staring Minthara down like a predator eyeing prey. "You were ordered to retrieve the artifact. You failed to do so."

"If I had been given drow warriors instead of goblin trash--" Minthara begins. Whatever argument she was about to make is immediately drowned out by an explosion of noise - objections from the cluster of goblin prisoners standing nearby. Leftover dregs, survivors of the devastation Rakha and her companions wrought at the shattered temple, perhaps.

"ENOUGH!" Z'Rell thunders, her voice crashing through the room like a battering ram.

Narrator: A blast of mental energy washes over you, filling the room. Your tadpole squirms, urging you to obey.

Rakha doubles over with a groan of sudden pain. The impact of Z'Rell's mental force strikes her like a wave, grips her by the brain and twists. Obey, it commands, even though there is no order for her to follow. Kneel. She feels her legs buckle, and instinctively struggles against the power until it begins to ease.

"Let me make sure I understand this," Z'Rell sneers at Minthara icily. "You're claiming that General Thorm gave you the wrong soldiers?" She takes a step forward. On the throne, Thorm stirs, his eyes narrowing to slits.

"Yes--" Minthara starts to say, then realizes her mistake just as the word leaves her lips. "No!" she corrects herself hastily.

"You blame the Absolute's Chosen for your failure?" Z'Rell demands, taking another step forward.

"Of course it is not the General's fault!" Minthara is trying to maintain her composure, but her voice cracks with sudden fear.

Z'Rell is almost nose to nose with her now, staring her down with a strange sort of vicious hunger in her eyes. "WHOSE, then?" she snarls.

At Rakha's side, she hears Wyll give a low whistle under his breath. "Someone's in trouble..." he murmurs.

Rakha ignores him. Her eyes are fixed on Z'Rell, on that hungry smile touching the other half-orc's expression. It is unsettling, only adding to the inexplicable feeling of familiarity the Disciple's face engenders in her. It is an expression she could imagine on her own face, the moment before a kill.

As for Thorm... Rakha's interest in Minthara's fate pales beside her interest in Ketheric's - she wants him dead. By all accounts his is the hand that has driven every terrible thing that has happened to her. She wants his blood far more deeply than she wants Minthara's.

But not here. As when she faced down Jaheira at Last Light, she is deeply aware that pushing the fight here would result only in her own death. She needs to learn Thorm's weaknesses, and find him alone.

Almost by instinct, she pushes outward with her own mental force, reaching out to his mind. Can she learn something of him? Can he be manipulated, pushed into a corner to die by her hand?

[WISDOM] Try to force your will on Ketheric - push him to declare Minthara innocent.

Narrator: Your mind extends outward and grasps at... nothing. In Ketheric's place, you feel an absence. No psionic power. No tadpole at all.

Rakha's breath jolts in her throat, as if she has tried to take a downward step that wasn't there. Her eyes open wide and she stares at Ketheric with an entirely new feeling of puzzlement - and unexpected fear. Here in the heart of the Absolute cult, a person without a tadpole feels far more unsettling than someone with one.

Minthara is still trying to plead her case. "The goblins!" she insists. "They failed me. They failed us all!"

"You lyin' little--" one of the goblins yelps, but she's cut off by Z'Rell, still cold as ice.

"And what would you do to those that have failed you?" she asks coolly.

Rakha can see the trap being laid, the blood that will follow it, but Minthara, desperate for salvation, grasps at the question eagerly.

"They are to be put to death - obviously," she says firmly.

"True," Thorm says abruptly. He stirs again and leans forward - stiffly, as if with some inexpressible weariness. "Ultimate failure must earn ultimate punishment." He lifts one hand and waves it in a dismissing gesture. "Nightwarden Minthara - your crime is incompetence and your sentence is death."

"NO!" Minthara screams - the sound a little choked off as two guards grab her by the arms and drag her backwards.

Ketheric lounges backwards in his chair again. "Make her passing slow, Disciple Z'rell," he says, a slow, disinterested drawl. "Be creative."

Again, that hungry, gleeful eagerness flashes onto Z'rell's face. Her hand rests on a dagger at her side.

And Rakha - completely without her own volition, as if voicing a script established for her long ago, speaks up. "I could make it *much* more creative," she hears herself say, and her voice is low and cold and matches that gleeful smile on Z'rell's face. "As a torturer, I am unmatched."

Wyll shoots her a sharp look, his eyes narrowing; one of his hands closes on her arm. But she doesn't even need it. She's already clamped her mouth shut, baffled by the words, by how natural they felt.

She can see Z'rell's mouth draw into a tight line, infuriated by the interruption, but Thorm merely raises an eyebrow as if he has been presented with some curiosity by an eager child.

Narrator: As the General's attention shifts to you, a memory stirs. A memory of this room, and his voice raised in anger.

"I'm surprised to see you again, True Soul," the General says. His tone is clipped, exquisitely controlled, with a sliver of barely concealed threat beneath. "You are here to assist and not to meddle, I trust. I would remind you that while in my halls, you obey me - just as you would any other Chosen." His lip curls in a disdainful smile and he leans forward again, his eyes fixed on Rakha intently. "What say you about our Minthara? It is fitting that one mad dog should judge another."

Rakha's blood feels as if it has been flooded with ice. Her body goes still; her very breath stills in her chest.

She does know him. And he knows her, just as the guard at the gate did. She doesn't know why. She has been here before, in this room - before the Nautiloid took her, before she met Lae'zel or Wyll or any of her companions.

You are here to assist and not to meddle.

While in my halls, you obey me.

Somewhere in the past, she argued with this man. She disagreed with his decisions, disrespected his authority. He shouted in her face - that memory is clear, but utterly without context.

It is fitting that one mad dog should judge another.

It's an insult. It infuriates her. She wants, more than ever, more than anything, to rip out his throat and eat it in front of his body as it bleeds out. But as always, her need for answers trumps the hunger for blood.

"You know me?" she whispers. "You know of my madness?"

Thorm smiles unpleasantly. "Better than you know yourself, it seems," he says. "But we are here to speak of Minthara, not you."

Her tongue feels frozen in her mouth. This is too much to take in - she doesn't care about Minthara's fate. She wants Thorm dead for that mocking smirk and for the tadpole in her head.

"What do you intend to do with her?" she manages to ask.

Thorm shrugs. "She will die. Eventually." He jerks his head. "Take her below."

Rakha watches, her thoughts racing, as Minthara - screaming for mercy - is dragged out of a nearby door by two of the guards.

Thorm stands slowly from the throne, stretches a kink out of his shoulder, and squints at the pint-size collection of other prisoners waiting for his attention. "Kill the goblins too," he adds dismissively.

Noises of dismay erupt from the crowd of goblins, and one of them cracks into sheer panic.

"You creaking old bag of shit!" she bellows. Hurling her full weight at a nearby guard, she manages to get ahold of his axe and - with surprising dexterity for her size - hurls it with all her might at Ketheric's chest.

Thorm slams back into the throne. The axe lodges itself through his armor and into his chest with an eruption of blood; Rakha's head snaps back, her eyes dilating, the beast rising in her head with a wave of excitement.

And then... nothing. Silence. Her hunger fades. The blood is false - it is no red tide of fading life, but something much darker, almost black, a strange ichorous mess pooling around his boots.

His eyes open. He stands, and without pain or even much evident interest, he rips the axe from his own chest.

"I'm so sorry, my lord," Z'Rell is babbling. "She's an unbeliever, outside my control--"

Thorm ignores her. In three quick strides he moves to stand directly in front of the goblin and drops the axe onto the floor in front of her with a clang.

"Try again," he says coldly.

(A/N: Fuck Ketheric, obviously, but this is such a fucking boss power move.)

The goblin swallows, bright-eyed with blank fear, and leans over and picks up the axe. Rakha can almost see the thoughts churning in her head - in for a coin, in for a coffer - and then she swings the axe again, this time a clean blow directly into Ketheric's neck.

Again Rakha watches intently, eager for that burst of satisfaction that would come with seeing Ketheric bleed properly and die... but it doesn't come. Instead, he pulls the axe from his neck, and twists his head with an uncomfortable cracking sound until it settles back into its correct position.

And without a single word, he slams both gauntleted fists down onto the goblin's head, shattering her skull.

It's a poor meal compared to the feast that Thorm's own death would have been, but at least there is proper blood. The beast purrs eagerly in Rakha's head.

"Dispose of the rest as you see fit," Thorm says absently. He seems utterly unconcerned with the mix of blood and ichor that now stains his hands, his armor, his beard. "Or better yet..." His eyes flick back to Rakha, reading the expression on her face - the involuntary eager smirk that touched her lips seeing the goblin die. "Let us take advantage of our surprising guest, and their particular creative genius. I'm sure the results will send a clear message to the troops on the importance of discipline."

Z'Rell has gone very quiet and still as well. She is looking at Rakha with unmitigated dislike - but her respect for (or perhaps fear of) the General is greater. "Of course, my lord," she mutters. "Thank you."

She takes a step down off the dais, closing with Rakha. "You heard the General. The goblins are yours - deal with them however you wish."

The beast leaps eagerly at this offer. So many ways to kill, so many ways to make them bleed and bleed and bleed...

She squeezes her eyes shut, fighting it back, trying to think clearly. Too much has happened here. She needs to take time to understand...

Contain your excitement.

Z'Rell rolls her eyes at Rakha's silence. "Here, in the seat of the Absolute's power, your authority over them is complete. They will obey any command. Report to me upstairs when you're done."

She doesn't wait for a reply, but disappears out a door in the back of the room, leaving Rakha and her companions alone with the goblins.

"Here..." one of the goblins quavers nervously. "You ain't gonna do anything drastic, are yeh? We've been nothing but loyal!"

-----

"Rakha?" Wyll says softly. "Hey. Hey-- Rakha. Come back down."

He's seen her gaze starting to go wide and wild with the promise of violence and the chaos of the last few minutes, and he's relieved to see that his voice seems to ground her a little, to draw her back.

She turns sharply away from the prisoners, squeezes the heels of her hands against her eyes.

"Did you see it?" she mutters hoarsely. "He didn't bleed. He didn't die."

"Chk. We knew he would not, already," Lae'zel points out. "The greater question - how does he know you?"

Rakha shakes her head once sharply. "I don't know. I don't--" She draws a breath, lets it out slowly between her teeth. "I have seen him before. Him and the woman both. Clashed with them, I think. But I don't remember..."

A muscle works in her jaw as she slowly calms her own agitation. Wyll can see the effort it's taking her, and he smiles just a little in pride to see it. She would not have calmed herself like this, when they first met.

"And the drow," Rakha goes on after a short pause. "We killed her."

"It seems we didn't do a good enough job," Shadowheart says dryly. "Although Thorm seems likely to finish it for us." She raises one eyebrow. "She might be a useful ally. People tend to be rather more pliant, when the alternative is death."

Rakha grunts. "Perhaps..." she says. Her thoughts are clearly elsewhere. "And the goblins..."

She expects Wyll to tell her to release them; it isn't practical but it would be kind. To her surprise, though, his jaw sets and he shrugs. "Finish them, I suppose. That will get us in good here."

Lae'zel nods curt agreement. "Yes."

Rakha draws a slow, shuddering breath and turns back to the prisoners.

The beast is full of ideas, ways to use the tadpole's command to make them tear themselves apart. But Rakha ignores it. Flame bursts up in both palms, rising into an arc before her.

"I will do this with my own hands. It always feels better."