#think about the mythological implications guys!

[ooooo-mcyt]

I can't believe we as a fandom made Etho a fox and Joel a tanuki and haven't gone harder with the implications of having a kitsune/tanuki duo who are so obsessed with each other.

[cacaocheri]

So how do the Main 4 and the totems get involved? (Dr Jupiter is gonna be part of the league isn’t he)

unfortunately I don't involve mythology island in my poptropica rewrite, which means no dr jupiter 😔😔😔 I don't really want to work with a world that canonizes gods (as much as I love mythology island)

erewhon prison still exists though! just a bit different bc I rewrote the whole poptropica prison system

[allurer23]

TURN THE PAGE TO US

YOU ANNOTATED MY SOUL

In Focus: Mark Lee × Reader

Synopsis: You and Mark Lee: two English Lit majors, one department, zero peace. You can quote The Waste Land by heart, and so can he—but your shared talent for verse usually ends in verbal warfare. Forced to co-lead a competitive research project, Mark’s infuriating intelligence and maddening focus drive you up the wall. Yet, rivalry softens into playful banter, and late study sessions stretch longer than expected. Turns out, the line between rivalry and something softer is written in pencil—easily erased, effortlessly rewritten.

Warnings: Rivals to lovers, Explicit sexual content / verbal kink, Mentions of sexual tension, arousal, and suggestive dialogue, Dom/sub implications (voice kink, praise/degradation mix), Consensual power play, Intense academic rivalry dynamic, Emotional repression / internalized longing, Some strong language (casual swearing), Alcohol (minor party scene), Academic stress / intellectual elitism, Brief reference to being interrupted post-kiss, Heavy use of literary references / sarcasm / metaphor, No actual smut scenes occur, but it’s very hot

Author’s Note:

This is the first footnote in TURN THE PAGE TO US—because nothing screams ‘healthy coping mechanism’ like falling for the one person who annotates your entire existence.”

I didn’t mean to write something this long, but apparently, Mark Lee + academic rivalry + literary thirst = me losing all control. This ended up way longer than planned, and I still haven’t finished it—so I’m posting it in two parts.

This is Part 1, guys

You can read Part 2 here

This is for the girls who annotate their fantasy smut and the guys who smell like books and think arguing about Kafka counts as foreplay. This fic is messy, wordy, and borderline unhinged in the best academic way. To everyone who's ever caught feelings during a debate—this one's for you. Engagement means the world: likes, reblogs, comments, screams in the tags.

Please be 18+ if you’re reading.

"You underlined metaphors. I read between the lines. Somewhere between ink and irritation, we annotated each other."

Third coffee of the day. And I hate coffee. It tastes like existential dread steeped in burnt hope. But like Gregor Samsa waking up as a bug, I didn’t choose this life—I just…adapted. Caffeine is my metamorphosis.

Sips, grimaces, and watches Mark Lee walk in, perfectly on time, of course.

And there he is. Mark Lee. Human punctuation mark. Probably thinks the sun rises because he quoted Woolf at it. He writes like he’s got a personal vendetta against mediocrity and walks like he’s never been told he’s wrong. Spoiler alert: I’ve told him. He didn’t listen.

The academic rival I never asked for but somehow ended up stuck with since freshman year. Ever since our first clash over whether The Waste Land is genius or just a fever dream with footnotes, it’s been intellectual warfare. I don’t know why, but every time I see him, I feel this irrational irritation—like my brain knows it’s about to be challenged, and my ego's already rolling up its sleeves.

And of course, can't forget to mention his group. The ever-infamous Dream boys. The campus golden group. Seven of them, like some mythological fellowship but with more hair gel and less emotional regulation. A cocktail of charisma, chaos, and misplaced confidence.

Professor Jung walked into the classroom with the kind of smile that only meant one thing: chaos was coming. Not the scream-and-run kind. The academic kind. The kind that ruined friendships, ignited crushes, and made someone cry in the hallway after overanalyzing Jane Eyre.

“Let’s start today with a wonderful question,” he said, practically rubbing his hands together like a Bond villain with tenure. “Fate versus free will in literature.”

Of course. Of course. The kind of question that turns polite English majors into caffeinated gladiators wielding highlighters and wounded pride.

“Think Kafka’s labyrinths of absurdity or Austen’s cages of etiquette,” he continued, eyes gleaming like this was the TED Talk he'd been preparing his whole life for. “Who really writes the story—the characters, or some invisible puppeteer called fate?”

Naturally—and I mean this with every ounce of disdain in my soul—Mark Lee’s hand shot up. Instantly. Like he had been waiting for this moment since the womb. Like fate had chosen him, which is ironic, considering he clearly sides with it.

He wore that insufferable smirk—the one that made girls sigh and me want to throw a Norton Anthology at his face. His glasses glinted like they were part of some book-boy cosplay, which, tragically, only made him hotter. Tragic for me, I mean. Not the population of people who thirst after tortured literature boys who quote Woolf on first dates. (Yes, he did that. I overheard. He used To the Lighthouse. Someone really should’ve drowned him there.)

I raised my hand too. Because if Mark Lee was jumping into the ring, I was showing up with verbal brass knuckles and annotated Kafka.

We both started speaking—of course—and Professor Jung smiled like his plan to cause chaos was going exactly as intended.

“Y/n, go ahead,” he said. And I did. With glee.

“Fate? Please. That’s just what authors use when they don’t want to admit they wrote themselves into a corner. The Trial isn’t an ode to inevitability—it’s a primal scream from a man being smothered by bureaucracy and desperately trying to claw meaning out of the absurd. Free will exists. It's just ugly and panicked and gets drowned in paperwork.”

Mark’s smirk—God, that smirk—deepened. Probably because he thought he was about to say something clever. Spoiler alert: he wasn’t.

“Delusional,” he said, all smooth confidence and unjustified cheekbones. “Austen’s characters are textbook fate victims. Emma? Lizzie? They ‘choose,’ sure but only within the bounds of societal programming. It's not free will, it’s conditioned responses. Fate, just wearing a petticoat.”

I rolled my eyes so hard I saw my ancestors. “You’re reducing character arcs to algorithms. Emma isn’t doomed—she’s flawed. And she changes. Growth is a choice, Mark Lee. Free will is messy, but that’s what makes it beautiful. Fate is a cop-out for people too afraid of consequences.”

He leaned back like he was lounging in a coffee shop, not verbally brawling in front of thirty people. “And yet the greatest tragedies rely on fate. Romeo and Juliet, Gatsby… Doomed from the start. Fate is the poetry of inevitability.”

I gave him a smile that could peel paint. “And maybe you just like sounding poetic while ignoring the fact that most tragedies are people screwing up, not the stars aligning. Gatsby wasn’t doomed. He just made garbage decisions and idealized a girl who liked shiny things.”

He adjusted his glasses like he was preparing to deliver an epiphany. “So you’re saying free will is just people being dumb?”

“Exactly,” I said, triumphantly. “Free will is people being dumb, brilliant, selfish, selfless, human. Orwell’s 1984? Winston tries. He chooses resistance. That’s the whole point. Even a doomed choice is still a choice.”

Mark tilted his head, all faux-curious. “And he’s crushed. Crushed by the inevitability of the system. Free will doesn’t win. Fate does.”

I could practically hear the air crackling. Our classmates were silent, hanging on every word like this was a courtroom drama and someone’s scholarship depended on it. Maybe mine did.

Professor Jung finally clapped his hands, grinning like a man watching two tigers fight over a Shakespearean soliloquy. “Exactly what I wanted. Good. Very, very good.”

I slumped back in my seat, heart thumping, and glared at Mark’s profile. He looked entirely too pleased with himself. His smirk. His glasses. His perfect posture, like he didn’t just ruin my blood pressure for the day.

After the verbal warzone had been declared over by Professor Jung, I packed up my notes with all the casual serenity of a boiling kettle. Mark was still smugly tucking his glasses into his collar like he hadn’t just played devil’s advocate for fate, of all things. Fate. I mean, who chooses to side with destiny in 2025?

“Y/N and Mark, please stay back,” Professor Jung said, just as I was plotting the most satisfying way to avoid him for the rest of my life.

I glanced sideways at Mark—or as I affectionately referred to him in my mind, the walking thesis footnote of my irritation. His brow arched, clearly intrigued, and I hated that it looked good on him. Could someone’s face be grammatically correct? I didn’t want to talk about it.

Once the last student dragged their bag out and the door clicked shut behind them, Professor Jung beamed like he’d been waiting to drop a literary bomb.

“I like the way you both think,” he began, steepling his fingers like some benevolent academic overlord. “You don’t just read literature—you wrestle it. Respect it. And occasionally stab each other with it.”

I said nothing, just nodded politely while standing as far from Mark as physically possible without flinging myself out the window.

“There’s an international literary conference hosted by the University at Veritas,” he continued. “It’s prestigious, competitive, and… paired.”

Mark straightened beside me like someone had just offered him a sonnet and a scholarship. I, on the other hand, was already sensing doom wrapped in MLA format.

“It’s on the notice board, but I’m telling you two specifically,” Professor Jung went on, smiling that same evil-genius smile he’d worn this morning. “Because I think—no, know—that if you teamed up, your chances of getting accepted are incredibly high.”

My brain short-circuited.

Team up?

With Mark fate-is-a-poem Lee?

We’d kill each other before we even chose a font.

“That’s… very kind of you, Professor,” I said, my voice politely strangled.

Beside me, Mark let out a soft, amused hum. Like a man already composing the opening paragraph of our academic obituary.

“I’m in,” he said. Instantly. No hesitation. Of course.

I looked at him like he’d just offered to co-author my nightmare.

“I mean,” he added, shooting me a sideways glance that felt like a challenge dressed as a compliment, “if Y/N can handle it.”

Handle what? His metaphors? His smugness? His perfectly organized notes that somehow always smell like cinnamon and ink?

“Oh, I can handle it,” I said sweetly, a dangerous smile curving on my lips. “Just don’t start talking about Austen like she’s a 19th-century NPC again and we’ll get along just fine.”

Professor Jung clapped once. “Perfect. Submit a proposal by next Friday. Surprise me.”

As we stepped into the corridor, I could already feel the words crawling up my throat like they were too irritated to stay inside.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” I muttered. “This isn’t a prize. It’s community service.”

Mark had the audacity to laugh. “I don’t know, I think we might actually work well together.”

I stopped walking. He did too, turning slightly with that same irritating eyebrow tilt like he thought this was a scene from some academic rom-com. It wasn’t.

I crossed my arms. “Meet me at 4 p.m. in the book cafe outside campus. We need to figure out a topic before your ego writes a paper all by itself.”

He gave a mock salute. “Wouldn’t dream of being late.”

Then he walked off, all easy strides and unbearable confidence, like we hadn’t just declared a ceasefire for the sake of intellectual dominance.

I stared after him, jaw clenched.

This was going to be a disaster. A well-researched, peer-reviewed, highly-cited disaster.

I walk toward the field where my so-called friends are lounging like overfed cats under the sun. Chenle’s playing basketball, all fluid limbs and annoying laughter. The rest? Already grinning like they know something I don’t. Which is impossible. Unless…

“Hey, Mark Lee,” Haechan calls, eyes glinting like he’s logged into my brain. “You look like someone tore your ego again today. Was it our Lit Queen?”

I flop down onto the grass beside them with the dramatic energy of a tragic Greek hero. “Today’s topic was free will vs. fate in literature,” I mutter, tugging blades of grass like they personally offended me. “Obviously, I sided with fate—because hello, I’m not naive enough to believe I have control over anything in life—but now I don’t know if I won or if she did or if I just got verbally suplexed by a girl in winged eyeliner.”

Haechan snorts. “Verbal suplex. That’s a new low, even for you.”

“It’s like she thrives on chaos." I continue like a man possessed. "The moment the professor mentioned fate, her eyes lit up like she was summoning literary demons just to argue.”

“She probably lives in hell, Mark. Maybe she’s just giving you directions,” Renjun says without looking up from his notebook.

“The worst part isn’t the debate,” I mumble. “It’s the fact that I’m teamed up with her. For the inter-college conference.”

That gets them. A collective gasp like I just announced I’m marrying her tomorrow.

“Oh,” Jaemin says, eyes wide. “You mean her? The girl who corrected Professor Kim when he misquoted T.S. Eliot?”

“She’s the same one who once sent Sunwoo a list of grammar corrections when he asked her out,” Haechan adds, cackling. “Imagine trying to flirt and getting a red-inked Google Doc back.”

“She brought up Plato at that party last week,” Jeno says, shaking his head. “And they were literally talking about their dating lives. I think someone asked what her type was and she went ‘philosophically or emotionally?’”

Chenle jogs up just in time to drop the final blow. “Rumor says she turned a guy down by sending him a bibliography on why she’s emotionally unavailable.”

“A bibliography?” Jisung blinks. “Like… with citations?”

“I think there was APA and MLA formats involved,” Chenle grins.

I sigh, dragging my hands down my face. “You guys don’t understand. I notice… things now. Like—like the way she rolls her eyes every time I speak. Which is always. She does this dramatic slow blink and I swear, I hear ‘disappointment’ in 4K.”

“She probably keeps a thesaurus in her bag just to judge your vocabulary,” Renjun mutters.

“And the eyeliner,” I continue like I’ve lost control of my mouth. “You know? That perfect little wing at the corner of her eye? Like she’s ready to slice me with it.”

“Oh my god,” Jaemin groans. “He’s noticing eyeliner. This is terminal.”

“She bites her pen when she’s thinking,” I say, ignoring them all now. “Like the cap is a life-or-death decision. And when she drinks coffee, she winces. She hates it. I know she does. She drinks it like it’s a punishment, not a preference. That’s not someone who likes caffeine. That’s someone who’s forcing herself to function in a coffee-drunk world.”

“You’re in deep, man,” Jeno laughs, clapping my shoulder. “You’re starting to sound like her.”

“I am not—” I stop, because, okay. Maybe I am. Maybe the worst part isn’t even being teamed up with her. Maybe it’s the fact that I can’t stop thinking about how her voice sharpens when she’s passionate about a book. Or how her handwriting looks like it belongs in some old library archive. Or how her smirk makes me want to argue with her just to see it again.

“She’s going to destroy me,” I say aloud.

“She already has,” Haechan smirks. “And we’re just here for the literary funeral.”

I walk into the book cafe and spot Mark Lee instantly—half-slouched in a corner booth, dressed like a Pinterest board for "hot literature major energy" and scrolling through his phone like he hasn’t been waiting here early on purpose.

He looks up the moment I sit across from him and slides a caramel frappuccino toward me like it's a peace offering.

“I don’t drink frappuccinos,” I say, pulling out my laptop and notebook. “Especially not ones pretending to be desserts.”

“You should,” he says smoothly, “it’s better than wincing like you're in physical pain every time you drink coffee. Just spare the Americano your judgmental stare.”

He says it like he’s read the last ten pages of my life.

Which is the worst part.

Because he kinda has.

“I’ve already chosen our topic,” I announce, ignoring his smirk. “‘The Quiet Catastrophe: Literature as a Witness to Absurdity and Human Frailty.’ It’s in line with the conference theme and—”

“Of course you chose that,” he cuts in, leaning back like he’s bracing for impact. “Tell me, what’s your word count goal this year for Kafka-Dostoevsky Existential Crisis Essays? A hundred thousand?”

I glare. “It’s a strong theme.”

“It’s a recycled theme.” He raises an eyebrow. “I'm just saying… have you considered that Franz and Fyodor might want you to move on?”

I open my mouth, then close it. Because damn it, he’s not wrong.

“I was thinking,” he continues, voice casual but eyes very not, “what if we pitched ‘Ink as Ammunition: Literature as Resistance in Postcolonial and Feminist Texts’? It’s bold, fresh, and maybe—just maybe—you’ll meet authors who don’t end their novels in total despair.”

I hate that it’s a good idea.

I hate that my face reacts before my pride does—because he sees it.

His smirk deepens.

“I don’t want to waste time arguing,” I mutter, crossing my arms. “So fine. We’ll go with your idea.”

“Wow.” He places a hand over his heart dramatically. “Mark this day, for she has spoken the word: fine.”

We fall into a silence so deep it might as well have its own heartbeat—the kind of silence that says.

I catch his brown eyes catching the light every time he lands on a good point, like he’s just uncovered some secret cheat code for the paper. His eyebrows furrow into that “serious genius” crease, and of course, his damn glasses betray him by slipping down his nose as he leans in to sneak a peek at what I wrote. The way he pushes them back up with one lazy finger? Too casual, too precise—like he knows exactly how distracting he looks.

Focus, Y/N. Focus on the paper, not the guy who plays basketball to ease his tension and somehow looks like he just walked off a runway. And yes, he looks damn hot when he plays, but this is strictly an academic observation, no judging.

Mark’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

“Handmaid’s Tale?”

I nod, trying not to make it obvious that I’m really thinking about how his hair falls perfectly messy when he pushes it back, and how the sleeves of his shirt roll up just enough to make me wonder if he knows the effect he’s having.

“What’s running around in that head of yours?” he asks, eyebrow raised, suddenly silent like he’s waiting for some grand revelation.

Definitely not how good you look right now.

"Oh nothing"

“And seriously,” he adds, eyeing my pen like it’s a secret weapon, “you should stop chewing on that thing. I know you’re hunting for a sentence to obliterate me with.”

“I’m not,” I snap, yanking the pen away like it’s a live bomb.

We’re both silent for a while — a rare event, considering we usually argue over everything from font sizes to who gets top billing on the title page. But right now, it’s just the clack of keyboards and the soft hum of the café.

“I don’t like this,” he says suddenly.

I glance up. “What, being productive?”

“No. You being quiet. It’s weird. It’s like I’m watching a thriller with no plot twist. Where’s the snark? The dramatic sighs? The eye rolls?”

I shrug. “Maybe I’m saving all my energy for the bibliography.”

He grins. “Oh, I get it now. You’re lulling me into a false sense of security before you hit me with the footnote from hell.”

I sip the Frappuccino — the one I swore I wouldn’t drink. He notices, of course.

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

“It’s tolerable.”

“You say that about everything you like. Just admit you love it.”

I raise an eyebrow. “That line working on anyone else?”

He leans back, smirking. “Only the ones who can spell ‘conscience’ without autocorrect.”

I can’t help the laugh that slips out. He notices that too.

“You laughed,” he says like he just won a bet.

“Congratulations. What do you want, a trophy?”

“No, just acknowledgment. It’s rare. Like finding a happy ending in an existential novel.”

I grin. “You’re really trying to make metaphors happen today, huh?”

He shrugs.

We fall back into silence.

Two weeks had passed since our abstract got the green light from Mr. Jung. Since then, it felt like we’d been living in a war zone—bickering over everything from fonts to spacing, to whose point held more weight. Every tiny detail turned into a battlefield.

“I’m taking you to the party,” Giselle declared, even though I was standing right next to her.

“I’m not coming,” I replied, flipping through Onyx Storm. Honestly, can you blame me? The ending was right around the corner.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m taking you. That’s not a request, Ms. Litlady. And please, don’t start in on Plato or whoever. People are still talking about that.”

“They asked me a question,” I shrugged, marking my page before closing the book. “I just answered.”

“It’s a party, not a philosophy lecture. Dress up and come with me. Jungwoo’s picking us up.”

“It’s not like I hate parties.”

She grinned. “Exactly. You like parties—you’re not one of those typical bookworms who lock themselves away all weekend.”

“Yeah, well, I like finishing Onyx Storm more.”

“Whatever. You can finish it later. You’ve been working on that paper with your academic rival nonstop. You need a break from that hot nerd.”

“He’s not hot. More like a mosquito buzzing in my ear and I'm just tolerating him.”

“Speaking of that hot nerd, only you can hold a conversation with him. I heard Jia finally snagged a date with him last month, and he went on about the Renaissance and its impact on literature, the printing press, the first Bible—all that jazz.”

A small smile spread across my face. “That sounds exactly like him,” I said, walking to my closet.

“The red one or the black one?” Giselle asked.

“I like the red one. It looks good on you.”

“Done and done.”

The music was loud, the air smelled like cheap cologne and spilled cider, and the lights were dim enough to make everyone look ten percent more attractive than usual—which meant nothing to me, obviously. I was here for a drink and maybe a reason to leave early.

Then she walked in.

Giselle first—grinning, glossy-lipped and glitter-eyed. Jungwoo next, bouncing like the Labrador he was. And then her, in black. Not the mournful academic black we lived in, no. This was dangerous black. Skin, collarbone, the glint of a necklace that caught the light every time she tilted her head and laughed.

And she laughed.

At him.

Jaehyun.

The golden boy. Soccer star. Her brother’s best friend. The type of guy who didn’t have to work for charm—he just breathed and people adored him. She was leaning in, brushing his arm, and throwing her head back like he’d just told the best joke in the world.

I hated it.

I didn’t even know what he said, and I hated it.

Haechan appeared next to me with a red cup and a knowing look. “You’re staring.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re glaring.”

“Same thing.”

“She looks good tonight,” he said. “Not that I noticed. I mean, Jaehyun noticed. And half the team. But not me. Just saying.”

I rolled my eyes, took a swig of something that burned, and tried not to look back. Failed.

“She laugh like that with you during group projects?” Haechan smirked, the devil in a hoodie.

“She doesn’t laugh with me. We argue.”

“And yet,” he drawled, “here you are. Third drink. Sixth stare. First stage of denial. Classic.”

I turned away. “Shut up.”

“She’s just talking to Jaehyun, man. Your crush is allowed to talk to people.”

“She’s not my—”

I paused.

He grinned.

I hated him.

____

I walked into the room after attending a call from Renjun. She was laughing again. That sharp, carefree kind of laugh that somehow always managed to echo over the music. And of course, it was Jaehyun standing next to her. She tilted her head slightly when she laughed, like whatever he said was the cleverest thing she’d heard all night. Whatever.

I made my way to the bar. Not toward her — just the bar. The fact that she was already there? Unfortunate timing.

I stepped into the space beside her, nodding at the bartender. “You do remember our submission’s due next week, right? Or is your strategy just charming Jaehyun into doing it for us?”

She turned toward me, a slow, amused look crawling up her face. “Mark Lee at a party and talking about work? I’m shocked. Blink twice if you’re being held hostage.”

I grabbed my drink. “I just figured your attention span might need the reminder.”

Her smirk widened. “Worried I’ll outshine you again?”

“Again implies it happened once.”

“You’re right. But let’s not forget all those other times I accidentally outdid you — it’s kind of a pattern by now.”

I took a slow sip. “Delusions are getting bold these days.”

She laughed under her breath. Not the same kind of laugh she gave Jaehyun. This one had teeth. “The cafe’s closed tomorrow,” she said, casually, like it was no big deal. “So if you want to get this done before the deadline, you’ll have to come to my place. I’ll text you the address.”

I raised an eyebrow, letting a beat of silence stretch before answering. “You sure your Wi-Fi can handle all that ego in one apartment?”

She looked at me over her glass. “Guess we’ll find out.”

And just like that, she turned back to her conversation — not sparing me a second glance.

Fine by me. I got what I came for. A drink. And a reminder that this partnership was going to be the end of one of us.

Probably her.

___

She said her place. Her place. I didn’t ask questions—just said yes like a man trying to win a debate by proximity.

But now I’m standing in front of her door with a backpack full of citations and a mouth that can’t stop thinking about hers. This isn’t about the paper anymore. Not really.

She’s let me in—literally. And I don’t know what I’ll do when she forgets I’m the enemy and starts looking at me like I’m something else entirely.

He stepped into my apartment like he owned the place, tossed his bag onto the floor beside the low table in the hall, and sank onto the opposite side without a word. We didn’t need pleasantries—not in our world of rivalry laced with disdain.

I shouldn’t have said my place. I could’ve picked the library. A cafe, The quad. Literally anywhere that didn’t have soft lighting and shelves full of books that double as secrets and i didn't realise it tho.

But the way he looked at me—like he knew something I didn’t—made my mouth move faster than my brain. And now we were meeting in a space where my defenses didn’t work.

My apartment wasn’t neutral territory. It had favorite pens and worn notebooks and a bookshelf I’d never let anyone touch. Not even the friends who knew what I read when I wasn’t trying to impress professors.

He pulled out his laptop and the familiar clack of keys filled the silence as we settled into rhythm, working through the final citations. I was focused, eyes scanning a paragraph on postmodern consumption—but I felt it the moment his attention drifted.

Not to me. Not yet.

His gaze had shifted—toward the corner.

Bookshelf.

I followed it too late. He was already rising, curiosity pulling him like a magnet to the shelf I usually guarded with selective disclosure. His fingers grazed the spines, pausing over a particular set of titles that didn’t exactly scream Kafka.

Twisted Love. Fourth Wing. Iron Flame. A Court of Thorns and Roses.

I didn’t have to look up to know the smirk forming on his lips.

“Interesting collection,” he murmured, voice laced with something that wasn’t entirely mockery.

I turned my face toward him slowly, schooling my expression into bored defiance. “It’s called research,” I said coolly, though I could feel the heat creeping up the back of my neck.

He pulled a book halfway out. “For our project?” he asked, taking a step closer.

“For the sake of literature as a whole,” I countered, folding my arms across my chest.

Another step. “Didn’t know you were into… dragons, morally grey men, and explicit tension.”

I didn’t move. “Didn’t know you had time to read spines while pretending to be better than me.”

That earned a short laugh, rough and low. He closed the distance until he was standing right beside me, the book still in his hand, his fingers brushing the edge of the cover like it was a dare.

“I guess I underestimated the kind of stories that get your attention,” he said, his voice quieter now, deeper.

I tilted my head. “And I overestimated your sense of boundaries.”

His gaze flicked to my lips for a fraction of a second too long before settling back on my eyes. “So… which one’s your favorite?”

I reached out, plucked the book from his hand with deliberate slowness, and placed it back on the shelf.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I said, and turned back toward the table and settled into the chair.

I could still feel his stare on my back. Heavy. Unspoken.

The citations could wait a few seconds more.

He didn’t come back right away.

I could feel him still standing there. The air around the bookshelf was thick—static, electric. His presence dragged across my skin like a storm waiting to break.

And then he came back after grabbing another book from my collections.  Not quietly. Not carelessly.

He sank into the chair like he owned it. Like he owned the moment. Like he’d found a secret and was now deciding just how deep he wanted to bury it in me.

No glance at the screen.

Only me.

His eyes were darker than before. Focused. Sure.

“Research purposes, huh?”

Low. Laced with something that tasted like trouble.

I didn’t flinch. “You know—methodology, citations, critical discourse—”

“You mean your collection over there?”

He jerked his chin toward the shelf. “Looks a hell of a lot more like late-night escapism than anything academic.”

My throat tightened. “You’re making assumptions.”

He smirked. “Am I?”

Then he leaned in. Slow. Measured. His voice dipped into something filthy and deliberate.

“You’re the girl who quotes Barthes in class, who sighs at Kafka like he ruined you—but you’ve got a whole row of books with titles like Thorns and Temptation, Credence and Twisted series.”

I blinked.

He didn’t stop.

“Let me guess. The main guy’s always a tortured immortal. Says he’s a monster. Calls her little mortal, my mouse, my princess or butterfly, before bending her over a throne.”

“That’s not—”

He cut in, brutal and soft. “You like that shit.”

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

“And I bet you read it one hand on the page, the other under the covers, acting like you’re too good for it. Telling yourself it’s just fiction. Just tension. Just... literary curiosity.”

He grinned. Dark. Triumphant.

“But you keep going back to the same scenes, don’t you?”

I crossed my arms. “So what if I do?”

“So nothing.” He shrugged. “Except you walk around like your head’s above it all. As if you wouldn’t come apart if someone actually pressed you up against a wall and whispered the things you pretend you hate.”

He was too close. I could smell his cologne—woodsy, dark, intoxicating.

“You think that’s all it takes?” I tried to say it steady, but my voice betrayed me. Too tight. Too breathless.

He tilted his head, eyes on me like a predator amused by how long his prey thought it could pretend.

“No,” he said. “I think you want someone who gets it. Someone who won’t judge you for reading smut dressed in metaphors.”

His hand reached forward. Not touching. Just close. Suggestive.

“I think you want someone who’d highlight those lines with you. The ones where she begs. Where he growls. Where the line between danger and desire blurs and she likes it.”

I felt heat rush to my face. My stomach twisted. My legs didn’t move.

“And I think,” he continued, “you’ve spent so long playing the good girl with her annotated classics and tragic quotes... you’ve forgotten how much you crave someone seeing you. Really seeing you.”

“You don’t know me,” I whispered.

“I do now.”

His voice was a promise. A threat. A challenge.

“And you know what’s wild?”

He leaned in just enough to ghost his lips near my jaw. “I’m not judging you. I’d read them with you. Out loud. Every filthy line. Make you admit which parts made your thighs press together. Make you say it—this one, this is the line that made me want to be ruined.”

My breath shuddered.

His knee slid against mine again. Pressed there. Solid. Heavy.

“You still gonna act like you’re above it?” he whispered. “Or are you gonna let me peel that good girl persona off you page by page?”

I didn’t answer.

Because if I did—I wasn’t sure if I’d stop.

Because the thesis wasn’t the only thing unraveling.

I was.

And God, maybe I wanted him to keep pulling.

He didn’t pull away.

He leaned closer.

Still no contact—just his presence, thick and heavy and humming with a kind of heat that felt almost unfair.

“You’re really going to sit there and act like your thighs haven’t been pressed together for the last five minutes?” he murmured, voice low, velvet over something razor-sharp. “Like you’re not wet under that skirt and trying not to squirm in your seat?”

I raised a brow, careful. Steady. “You always talk like this during research sessions? No wonder your GPA’s hanging by a thread.”

He smirked. “Cute. Deflecting.”

He dragged his chair an inch closer, the scrape of wood jarring in the silence. His knee bumped mine. Intentional. Firm. And then his fingers tapped the table, slow and steady, inches from where mine rested.

“You know the parts you reread the most?” he said, gaze dropping to my mouth. “The ones where he doesn’t even touch her yet. Just tells her what he’s going to do. How he’s going to make her lose control.”

“Sounds like someone’s projecting,” I said coolly, even though my pulse was sprinting and I could feel the heat crawling up my throat.

He leaned in further, his breath brushing my cheek like a secret I wasn’t allowed to hear.

“I bet you love the build-up. His mouth at her ear. The words he says when no one else is listening. You’re already soaked for me, aren’t you? Look how easy it is to make you squirm.”

I didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Because if I did, he’d know.

“You act like you’re above it,” he said, voice going lower. “Like none of it gets to you. But I see the way you shift in your chair. How you stopped breathing when I said ‘wet.’”

I scoffed, leaned back just a little. “You’re giving yourself too much credit.”

“Oh, I haven’t even started,” he murmured, eyes locked on mine. “Want me to read aloud your favorite passage? The one where she’s told to shut up and take it? Where he pins her wrists and tells her, You’re not going anywhere until I’ve ruined every part of you?”

I stood abruptly.

His eyes tracked every inch of the movement like a dare.

I didn’t speak. Just reached for the book near his elbow—my copy, spine cracked, pages dog-eared and traitorous—and walked to the nearest bookshelf to shelve it. A small act. Simple.

But it was enough.

He was behind me in seconds. Catching my wrist to turn me towards him.

His hand landed on the shelf above mine, boxing me in. His body close. Too close. Heat radiating from his chest to my neck, not touching, but god, it felt like he was.

“You’re not fooling me,” he said, voice dark against the shell of my ear. “You can act cold all you want. Witty. Detached. But you’re the kind of girl who reads the dirtiest pages twice, then closes the book just to sit there and feel it.”

I gripped the spine of the book tighter.

“You want someone to make it real,” he said. “To tilt your chin up, press their mouth to yours, and say, Don’t run. Take it.”

My chest rose too fast.

“You’d hate how much you’d love it,” he whispered. “How fast you’d fall apart. How easily you’d beg when I tell you, Keep your eyes on me while I make you mine right here.”

I should’ve told him to back off.

Should’ve moved. Should’ve breathed.

Instead, I froze.

And that’s when he kissed me.

Hard. Fierce. Like he’d waited too damn long and couldn’t hold it in any longer.

His hand slid to my waist, dragging me closer. His mouth crushed mine, no hesitation, no apology. Just fire and hunger and everything we’d been pretending not to want.

I gasped against him, hands fisting in his shirt as his body pressed against mine, pinning me lightly to the shelf.

He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating between us, his mouth moving over mine with brutal precision. Tongue teasing. Teeth grazing. Every second pulling me deeper, tighter, unraveling something I hadn’t even realized was wound that tight.

The book fell from my hands, hit the floor with a thud I barely heard.

“You feel that?” he breathed against my lips. “That spark when I touch you? That ache? You think I can’t tell how wrecked you are right now?”

He kissed me again, slower this time, more purposeful. Like he wanted me to remember it later—alone, frustrated, aching.

“I could fuck you with just my voice,” he whispered, mouth trailing to my jaw. “And baby—don’t lie—you’d let me.”

The bell rang.

Sharp. Final. Echoing down the hallway.

“Y/n?” My brother’s voice, too close.

I jerked back, panting.

His eyes were wild. Lips swollen. Still breathing hard.

I wiped at my mouth with the back of my hand, heart pounding out of rhythm. He didn’t say anything. Just watched me.

“Y/n?” Louder now.

“I’m—coming!” I shouted, hating how wrecked my voice sounded.

I didn’t look at him as I turned.

But I felt his stare all the way to the door.

And long after I left, his kiss still burned like it hadn’t finished yet.

“The problem wasn’t that he kissed me. It was that I kissed him back.”

or

“We were supposed to write a paper. Not rewrite every boundary I ever built.”

___

Author's note:

Well, if you’ve made it this far, congratulations—you survived Part One of You Annotated My Soul without throwing your device across the room. This story is basically my caffeine-fueled brainchild, packed with all the awkward academic tension, chaotic vibes, and just enough cursed chemistry to keep you hooked. If you liked the drama (or even just the mess), drop a comment or reblog—it’s like digital high-fives that keep me writing.

Part Two is brewing, and spoiler alert: that kiss? Just the appetizer. Stay tuned for the main course.

Thanks for sticking around—and try not to ship them too hard.

Now, I see this fic is not that long.

[uhoh23]

Person A - I think he's a Wanderer

Person B - DEMON

Me - THE DRAGON KING HAS ARISEN MY BRETHREN

NGL I was originally leaning more towards the demon theory bc there's a lot of evidence for it, but the problem that I have with the demon theory is that it now feels TOO obvious, like the devs are trolling like how they joked about him being a vampire. All three main theories make sense tho - demon, wanderer, or dragon.

There's so many demon implications - 1. The N109 zone being a lawless place that apparently has little sunlight, hence why there doesn't seem to be many plants, making it sound like the underworld bc the underworld probably wouldn't have much life in it, its another version of Hell. 2. Sylus' flower is the Datura, sometimes known as the "Devil's Trumpet." 3. Demons love deals. They trick humans and according to Christian lore, hate humanity. Sylus enjoys using people, even with the good in him. He's always trying to get something.

Point is, it kinda seems TOO on the nose...but the dragon theory is less obvious for me. I would have NEVER thought he was one until I did my research on Chinese mythology 🤣 AND BOY DID I FIND some INTERESTING things. Let's start with the most IMPORTANT point - In Eastern mythology, dragons can shapeshift between human and dragon. There's TWO dragons in particular that stood out to me - Fuzanglong and Longwang.

Fuzanglong - Dragons of hidden treasure. They live underground and hide gemstones, golden nuggets, their most prized possession a magic pearl. Has horns, demonic looking eyes, and dark red is associated with them. Sometimes known as "Keeper of the Underworld." They can cause volcanic eruptions when awoken or when they leave the underground. Elusive to humans.

Sylus and the color red go hand in hand. Couple that with the "treasure" talk that reminds me of Nightplumes due to Sylus saying "A man's heart goes to where his treasure is." Just like a dragon protecting his treasure. Sylus also enjoys gifting MC gems as a gift 🥺 There's also that scene where it looks like MC is underground, blood on her hands, and lava seeping through the ground. This ties to the volcano aspect and the underground aspect of this particular dragon.

The Dragon King - IT GETS WILDER. A guy named Longwang could shapeshift from dragon to human at will. He was the source of rain. His human form had red eyes and his dragon form typically had red scales, but some artists would opt for other colors. Longwang was the king of all dragons, immortal, and eventually he became a God in the story of the Lotus Sutra. His dragon form had wings, claws, and horns. He had four dragon brothers who could also shapeshift, lived in a luxurious palace in the sea, and he ate gems. Longwang was benevolent usually, but he was known to have a bad temper and be intimidating. He also apparently had thousands of kids 🤣

Sylus - has red eyes, he's intimidating to most, gets annoyed easily with most, can't die (or so he claims), the gems thing again, and he's rich. He very well could be a God with his crazy healing abilities and apparent immortality. The Lost Oasis card specifically brings up God's and Longwang played a significant role in a Chinese literature piece called Investiture of God's.

Last, but not least, Sylus' zodiac sign...I find it FUNNY how COINCIDENTALLY this man is an Aries in the Western zodiac, yet in the Chinese zodiac the Aries equivalent? IS A DRAGON. Just search up "Aries in the Chinese zodiac" 💀🫣 The devs did their zodiac homework bc Sylus has MANY of the Aries traits, so who's to say they didn't purposely choose Aries due to it's ties with the Dragon zodiac?

Aries Traits - love the chase in romance and they view crushes as a conquest to conquer, domineering, competitive and hate losing, adventurous, natural leaders, very straightforward, dominant. Dragon Zodiac - natural leaders, adventurous, very straightforward, competitive, can be arrogant, impatient, impulsive 👀🤣 Granted, maybe none of this proves he's a dragon, but I think this stuff is super interesting nonetheless 🖤

[peaches-creek]

Jason was looking for something. Not just someone, Homer, author of The Odyssey. He had been on a mythology kick, and wanted to read something more sophisticated. For a 9 year old this kid knows how to read, it was the only thing he could do during the day, waiting for nighttime to act up. So he taught himself to read at a very young age, and kept at it. He’s at a high school reading level. He would immediately come to the library after school, and would stay until closing hour. He had seen a reference somewhere that said, “Of all creatures that breathe and move upon the earths, nothing is bred that is weaker than man.”

His thought’s were then interrupted.

“Excuse me, I just have to get something by your feet really quick.” It’s a girl, about his age, one who doesn’t wait for his answer, just crouches by his feet and rips out a book. Not just any book, Neil Gaiman’s Norse Mythology.

That has him in awe, what kid his age knows how to read anything like that?

“Hey, you know how to read that?” He asks. You scoff at the implication.

“If I didn’t I wouldn’t have grabbed it, now would I?” You sarcastically reply.

That was the start of a very important relationship to Jason. Every day after school you would meet there, and argue about various topics, whichever ones interested you for the week. You guys would stay til close, and he would walk you home. You became important to him very quickly, he liked your gentle hands and kind way about yourself. When talking about characters you would always stick up for the underdog, just like in real life.

He remembers walking home with you one day, through the park when you both stumble upon a scene. Three boys a few years older, and a younger boy. He saw you stop, tears filling your eyes. He turned, about to say something.

“You know he’s a person? What makes you do something like that?” She yelled, crying at the same time.

“Why the fuck are you crying?” One of the boys sneers. Jason’s fist clenches, wanting to bruise this fucking kid’s liver, but decides against it, he is terribly outnumbered.

You say nothing, but walk up to the boy and grab his hand, walking away with him. You hear protests and sneers behind you. You bring him to the swings, asking him where his parents are. He points to two people arguing in the distance. You and Jason say nothing. He looks at you, the tears have stopped but the sniffles haven’t.

“Well then, let’s just play until they are done talking.” You say.

The three of you did exactly that.

You had taught Jason something about humanity that day. He knew he loved you in that moment. For someone so little to know exactly how to show someone else that they are loved.

The walk home had felt bittersweet that day.

“Can you hold my hand?” You say suddenly.

“Why?” He asks.

“Because I’m sad, and I want to hold someone’s hand.” He always forgets that you are a year younger than him, you don’t act it.

“Okay.’ He says, grabbing your hand.

“Why did you do that today?” He asks you.

He didn’t understand kindness like that, no one had shown him kindness before you, but he didn’t understand how you did it so effortlessly. When he first met you, he thought you were acting, lying to him about who you were. But then he realized that you’re just a girl, a girl who loves people.

“Why did I do what?”

“You know.”

“Oh, well, he didn’t deserve that, I don’t have to know him to know that he didn’t deserve that.”

“I see.” Is all he says.

“Kinda like you,” you start, “I don’t know how your life is hard, or why, but you don’t deserve it. I know that.”

“My life isn’t hard.” Is his answer

“Alright, sorry.” You apologize.

“Don’t apologize.”

He didn’t like to think about his life. Drug addict mom, alcoholic father, bills not being payed, going to bed hungry. You were the one good thing to him. Always offering him your spare mittens, sharing your snacks, helping him with his math homework. He didn’t like his life, but he liked you, that was enough.

“Y’know tomorrow is a half day, my mom said she would give me some money to get sandwiches on the way to the library. Which shop should we go to?” You ask.

“Daveny’s, they give you a pickle with your sandwich.”

“I hate pickles, so you can have mine, deal?” You say.

“I’ll share my chips if we have enough to get them.”

“We will, I saved the five dollars my Papa gave me last week.”

“Gotta love him.”

You continue on your way home, only stopping when you reach your steps.

“See you tomorrow Jay.”

“Since when did you call me that?”

“Since now, I think I have earned nickname basis.”

“Sure,” He smiles, “see you tomorrow, don’t forget the five dollars.”

“I wont, I wont.”

You walk up your stairs and into your house. He waits until he sees the lights go on in your room, and begins his trek to go and mess something up, maybe steal some hubcaps.

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

I saw a couple of posts here and on ao3 where you talked about how TOA Apollo has a stilted view of romantic relationships. Would you be comfortable explaining that, it got me really interested!

OKAY

SO

gonna be putting this under a cut for length

Apollo and relationships. Specifically, ToA Apollo and relationships.

let's see if I can formulate the thoughts into words.

Right off the bat, Apollo does have a hard time avoiding those red flags (hello, Commodus), so much so that he can see them...he just ignores them.

This already tells us that he doesn't have the healthiest view on relationships, or what specifically a healthy partner would be like.

In RRverse canon, these are all of his confirmed, canon relationships/love interests;

Hyacinthus

Commodus

Naomi

Darren

Latricia

Cyrene

Daphne

Sibyl

(I probably missed some asdfhjk)

Anyway, I've noticed that in canon, Apollo's relationships tend to fall into two categories; Sweet or Sour, we'll call them.

Now the majority on the list are Sweet! They are fulfilling relationships with no indication of any bitter feelings- Apollo is not shy about telling us about his love life, and certainly doesn't keep it from us when a relationship went south.

What I find interesting is that all three of the Sours can help pinpoint Apollo's more jaded/stilted view on romance.

Let's kick off with Daphne.

First things first, Apollo is quite literally forced to fall in love with her. Like. That has GOT to screw with a guy. What's more, is that when Apollo explains to us how Eros's arrows work;

What people do not understand: Eros’s arrows can’t summon emotion from nothing. They can only cultivate potential that is already there. Daphne and I could have been a perfect pair. She was my true love. She could have loved me back. Yet thanks to Eros, my love-o-meter was cranked to one hundred percent, while Daphne’s feelings turned to pure hate (which is, of course, only the flip side of love). Nothing is more tragic than loving someone to the depths of your soul and knowing they cannot and will not ever love you back. The stories say I chased her on a whim, that she was just another pretty dress. The stories are wrong. - The Hidden Oracle

There's an implication that he and Daphne may have actually been...friends. Or at the very least acquaintances.

It's never stated in canon when Daphne happened, and the mythology itself is weird about the timeline, but it certainly happened earlier in Apollo's life.

Imagine being forced to fall madly in love with someone you know and they are made to despise you.

The self-confidence definitely took a blow here.

What's more...

When she begged Gaea to turn her into a laurel tree in order to escape me, part of my heart hardened into bark as well.

Apollo tells us plainly that what happened with Daphne shook his views on romantic endeavors. Though, it didn't keep him from engaging in romance, either.

Now, back to Commodus real quick. We already covered the No Red Flag Bell with him, and honestly, I won't spend too much time here because I got a whole meta list waiting to dissect these two XD

But Sibyl reveals something else about Apollo and romance- sometimes, he sees it as transactional.

The story of Apollo and Sibyl does differ from the mythology of them- in mythology, Sibyl tricks Apollo into granting her a long life, and he kinda just shrugs and says 'okay, but you didn't ask for eternal youth either so...whoops?'

In ToA, Rick switches it up a bit by having Apollo grant Sibyl a long life after she jokes about it, and when she further rebuffs him, he curses her with no eternal youth.

Alas, I knew what I’d been thinking—that she was a pretty young woman I wanted to get with, despite the fact that she was my Sibyl. Then she’d outsmarted me, and being the bad loser that I was, I had cursed her. - The Tyrant's Tomb

I promised you life, not youth. You can have your centuries of existence. You will remain my Sibyl. I cannot take those things away, once given. But you will grow old. You will wither. You will not be able to die.

Yeah, it sounds like Apollo more or less curses her with no eternal youth here.

(Daily disclaimer that mythology Apollo's love life is actually very good and you should read up on it :3)

Back to the transactional thing-

"You cannot refuse payment." “Payment?” She balled her hands into fists. “You dare think of me as a transaction?” “I didn’t mean—Obviously, I wasn’t—”

Now, do I think Apollo sees all relationships as transactional? No. But let's consider the Olympian influence for a moment here.

Olympus in the RRverse is rather fucked, no doubt about it. The gods do not help without first being given something, and that permeates through their whole lifestyles.

Apollo's not being transactional because ✨misogyny✨. He's being transactional because that's what he's been raised to believe. If he gives something, he gets something back. That goes for all the gods, male and female and everything in between.

Bacchus helps the demigods in Mark of Athena because they paid tribute to him. Whenever a god extends aid, burnt offerings are made in thanks- which is probably part of the reason why Hera got angry with Annabeth when she refused to give her burnt offerings in The Battle of the Labyrinth after she helped her on her quest.

Apollo doesn't seem to be as picky as some (ie, The Titan's Curse, where he helps out to help out. You can argue he got his sister back in exchange but that's not really typical godly exchange lol), but it's clear that mindset has somewhat transferred over into relationships.

Now, I also want to talk about how Hyacinthus affected him- because let's be real, he was the one that affected him the most without outside interference (looking at you, Eros).

Apollo has told us time and again that Hyacinthus was one of, if not his greatest, love. His death really left a mark on him, and I am of the firm belief that it's that mark that made him wary of forming too close of a relationship with others- even when he tries to convince them and himself they are his One True Love™️, it falls flat inside his own head.

Because let's face it- that spot is occupied by Hyacinthus, and the hole he left in Apollo's heart.

This isn't to say Apollo loves his other lovers less- heck no! Love is one of his defining qualities. He has much love in him!

It's just that Hyacinthus had a particular impact on him, and how he views relationships.

*vibrates in Hyapollo multific* I have...my own personal ideas...on what that entails...

And we see how touch-and-go Apollo is with other lovers! As soon as Commodus becomes emperor, he's gone. And only comes back in disguise, never revealing himself until he kills him.

Naomi, Darren, and Latricia are all obviously loving relationships from what we can gather, but it's clear it was never long-term.

Cyrene, really, is where I'd argue he got the closest to a long-term relationship with a mortal-ish person, but even so, they aren't in a permanent long-term relationship either.

Hyacinthus, however? I can see he and Apollo maintaining an everlasting romance.

...Also because that is exactly what happens according to the Spartans and who are we to deny what the Spartans declared about their national hero?

The only other exceptions to this I can see are his relationships with the Muses and (hello, fellow Apricity shippers) Boreas.

But even so...the Muses give off like, 'married co-workers' vibes, if that makes sense, and Boreas is more or less a winter fling (fandom forgive me, you know I am a shipper🫡)

Anyway. Hope this rambling makes sense or at least provides a platform for someone to put coherent thoughts together lmao

In conclusion: sometimes Apollo is transactional in relationships because of the culture he was raised in, and he has commit issues because of just how hard Hyacinthus's death hit him :)

have fun pondering :3

[monamoe]

Banging my head against the wall with some Riordanverse canon ships (or canon ages) before explaining how I would have done them

(no hate to Rick Riordan! I love his books and his writing style, but I do have problems with some of the writing choices he made). First I’ll start with the age gap relationships.

What I hate about the age gaps:

We didn’t need 16 year old Frank with 14 year old Hazel, because those are two wildly different age groups! To put it in a highschool setting, Hazel would be in Year 8-9 while Frank would be in Year 10 more or less?? He wodukve had his driving license when she hadn’t even done her IGCSEs. When he turned 18 she’d be 16. SIXTEEN. Bruh.

We didn’t need 16 year old Walt with 13 year old Sadie. Same problems as Frazel except worse by one year. (HE’D BE 18 WHEN SHE WOULD BE 15.)

And we didn’t need the 1000+ couples with under 18 characters! Especially with some of the character’s that are thousands of years old’s mythologies! (You know what I’m talking about).

How I would have written them!:

Frank x Hazel:

I assumed Frank was 15 or 14 tbh 💀 I don’t get why he needed to be 16?? It has no plot relevance and also it’s weird considering him and Hazel get together. I love Frazel but like… what is the point? Their relationship isn’t that terrible development wise, jsut kind of bland ig (in my opinion). I’d definitely have given them a lot more development and moments together before dating. I’d also like to make a point that their friendship was already going strong and they had a close bond before dating! If I were to rewrite the books in my own taste idk if I’d even make them get together? I think I appreciate them more when they have a deep bond without a labeled relationship. They’re close and they love eachother, and they want to be committed to eachother, but they don’t want to be dating <3

I also wanted to mention before going into Walt x Sadie that both Hazel and Sadie fall into the trope thingy Rick does where younger POC girls (Hazel is African American, Sadie is mixed) are paired up with 16 year olds. And it’s just really really weird. I’m white so I won’t comment too deeply on this, but I have read a really good essay about it somewhere but I sadly can’t find it :( if I do I’ll put it here.

Walt x Sadie

When I first read TKC, my first impression of Walt was a paragraph that described his appearance (random but I HATE HATE HATE his design in one of the graphic novels. He looks so adult and it’s weird since Sadie clearly has a crush on him. I don’t like the designs for many of the graphic novels in general ngl) and his age, which I read as fourteen, since it explicitly said he was two years younger than Carter. I can’t find the paragraph now, but every other source has said that he’s 16. Bc of this, I read the books assuming he was just a year older than Sadie and I still believe it even if it’s not canon. I wouldn’t change much about their relationship except age Sadie up to 15 and Walt down to 15 as well.

Now for the 1000+ relationships:

Anubis x Sadie x Walt

For Anubis x Sadie x Walt, I already did a sort of essay about how I would have written him and his relationship to Sadie to an extent (Idk how to link posts sorry😔 look up Anubis or TKC on my page and it should appear), even if I haven’t talked about his relationship to Walt yet (bc despite not being explicit, it’s clearly obvious Walt and Anubis are also dating, it’s not a situation we’re two guys love one girl, it’s a poly relationship). I wanted to mention it bc I thought it’d be weird not to talk about him.

Calypso x Leo / Calypso x Percy

Stop. It’s one thing to make a ship similar to Leo x Calypso were they both are at the same maturity rate while also having one be immortal, it’s another to make a teen date a goddess who has a mythological history of rape and SA?? No matter if the translation or copy of the Odyssey you own makes the ‘cheating’ consensual, the implications are STILL THERE. In PJO I also find Calypso bossy (which normally wouldn’t bother me? I’m also bossy so it’s jot that deep), rude and downright vindictive. The curse she put on Annabeth that happened in Tartarus? The blame on Percy for ‘leaving her’ and the whole ‘he promised to free me from my prison’ when he LITERALLY DIDNT. Percy promised to build her a garden in his city (or something like that sorry 😭), not to free her. Just. In general this relationship makes me feel icky and I heavily dislike it.

So that’s all for now, I’m tired, gn everyone! If I missed anything or got anything wrong feel free to correct me <3

[pastorfutureletthembe]

X

I have honestly so many questions, my artist heart is bleeding for you, sir.

Also, I'm aware that this is not canon and was created according to s1&2 impressions, but this object's design is similar to the one in LULL.

I wonder what it is and how it works 👀. The threads remind me of greek mythology.

I know it's purely fanon at this point but, just for fun because I'm always hungry for timey saucery:

If this kind of object existed in universe, what would the implications be?

It takes the threads from timelines or each timeline is a thread, and it makes all of it into a tapestry, right? That would be logical.

In the literal sense, a tapestry is a huge, often complicated picture woven out of cloth. So there are many many threads woven together in complex ways to make up a bigger picture. It is often used metaphorically to describe something complex with many parts, pieces, ideas, woven together.

But if so, it means the tapestry itself would already be done, and each timeline would be a pattern. The big picture would be key events common to each of them.

Or. If what we see is actually ropes made from threads and each rope is a timeline, the machine would undo and redo these ropes infinitely. Taking parts of each timeline and basically making a medley for the next one.

Would only one timeline be made at the time?

A complex machine like that would mean every batch would be made from several timelines. So there would be, for example, 12 timelines playing simultaneously and the machine would prepare the 12 following timelines using the current playing ones.

Fanon aside, the idea of an actual machine, concrete or liminal, in canon is an interesting concept to toy with.

Would it be a machine created by man or pre-existing in the cracks between time and space? Can it be controlled? Can it be influenced? Can it be broken? Why would certain people be able to connect with it through powers like Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang?

I still think their powers are about the impression of light in time and space, and if so, the machine would basically be like the sun, and those people would be gravitating around it. On a smaller scale, this idea is close to the Saturn imagery too, with its rings of dust. Saturn is the planet associated with time.

The position of Saturn's festival in the Roman calendar led to his association with concepts of time, especially the temporal transition of the New Year. In the Greek tradition, Kronos was sometimes conflated with Chronos, "Time," and his devouring of his children taken as an allegory for the passing of generations. As such, the Roman Saturn had similar associations. The sickle or scythe of Father Time is a remnant of the agricultural implement of Cronus-Saturn, and his aged appearance represents the waning of the old year with the birth of the new.

Mythology goes in this direction: using the old to make the new, transitions, destruction for construction, chaos to order.

Also, I hope they don't go there, but what if these powers were hereditary and came from a time when a group of rich and excentric people who created a machine to time travel? And this machine somewhat got connected to this liminal object like the one we see in the PV? And that's how they get extra.

Going back to headcanon territory more than fanin theories but what if one of these guys stole this machine to save his wife's life when others really just wanted to get richer and kill opponents? Haha

Anyway, all very interesting things to think about in a pure recreative context. I'm not saying that's what Link Click will become, again. I'm just saying GUYS WHAT IF THEY ACTUALLY WENT THERE? haha

Moar design explanation please, that's so interesting!! 😍✨

My brain is currently on fire. Thank you Link Click for feeding my tetris mind lmao

[burr-ell]

Your “nepotism baby” analysis of Bells Hells feels SO ACCURATE. It honestly helped me finally pin down why, exactly, I hate Ashton so much. They’re not a real punk, they are a rich kids’ idea of what punk is meant to be. Just poorly adopting the anti-establishment persona without any of the substance that makes punks great.

So I want to push back on this, for two reasons. One, the implication of "a rich kid's idea of what punk is meant to be" suggests that the "rich kid" in question is either Ashton or Taliesin, and neither is fitting here. Regardless of how frustrating Ashton can be, they have had a difficult life and grew up impoverished; they do have legitimate grievances with institutional authority. Now Taliesin himself seems to have grown up fairly well-off based on everything we know about him, but he became involved in genuine underground scenes as a teenager and young adult; Ashton is explicitly based on an amalgam of difficult roommates Taliesin has had, punks he personally knew, and punks who were depicted in The Decline of Western Civilization, Part 3.

That last bit leads into my second issue, and it's one that I don't think you're entirely unaware of, but I'd be remiss if I didn't say anything. Punk has a reputation online, particularly on Tumblr, of being purely about hope and love and rebelling against oppression with an edgy counter-cultural aesthetic (this is part of why Across the Spider-Verse's depiction of Spider-Punk, who to be clear is a great character, got so popular). By contrast, The Decline of Western Civilization, Part 3 is a 1998 documentary about gutter punks in Los Angeles, and it is, by all accounts, an incredibly depressing film that ends with one of the interviewees dead and another awaiting trial for his murder. There was a punk-to-skinhead pipeline throughout the 70s that led to the Dead Kennedys song "Nazi Punks Fuck Off", and while that phrase has become popular in repudiating far-right punks, it would not still be in use today if they didn't still exist. A lot of the ideas in punk about rebellion and freedom and nonconformity can and do manifest as principled fights against authoritarianism and oppression, but just as often manifest...at best as the guy in the housing collective that refuses to do chores, at worst as someone who thinks espousing white supremacy is countercultural because people get offended by it and then becomes a Nazi for real.

Don't misread me, I completely agree that Ashton is an idiot and a narcissist (the description that Taliesin himself gave him), but let's not springboard off of that and No True Scotsman our way into mythologizing punk. Ashton is, in fact, depicting a lot of the substance of punk—namely, the ways it can help make you worse as a person.

[mellowdisko]

Religion in Caesar's Legion

The neopaganist movement of the wasteland. We know the whole deal with Mars; The Legion bases its religious framework around the worship of the Roman god of war and Caesar as the “Son of Mars”. The Roman imperial cult is probably present in the Legion so we can say our boy Ed is seen as the hand of God reaching to the wasteland. The wiki says Caesar declared himself the Son of Mars, ordered by a divine mandate, empowering him with the supposed will of the god to carry out his imperial conquests, to "deliver the wasteland from chaos and barbarism." And to facilitate this conquest, Mars cleansed the Earth with fire, bringing humans to their lowest ebb. This casts the Great War as a central event within the Legion's mythology. (That also creates a very interesting premise about Legionaries coming into contact with historical texts from the Old World. If they were to read about the origins of the Great War, they would likely come to the realization that the bombs falling was not a divine judgment but instead a direct result of past politics).

But going back to Mars, the religious practices of the Legion are directly influenced by the Roman pantheon, but there are very obvious peculiarities. Like, at the beginning of the battle of Hoover Dam, we see the Legate performing human sacrifices in the name of Mars. Does this mean such rituals are an institutionalized practice within the Legion, or is Lanius simply exploiting Mars' name? Additionally, the focus on Mars as the primary deity is different from that of the regular Roman religion. While the ideology clearly draws from Roman mythology, there is an apparent absence of other Roman gods in the Legion. And if only Mars is worshipped, does that mean the Legion follows a monotheistic religion? And if they do worship other Gods, how does Caesar explain the presence of female figures in Roman myth, most notably Minerva, when the Legion’s culture is strictly patriarchal?

Now I am fully getting into headcanon territory here, I would like to imagine that, contrary to the monotheistic implications, the Legion could indeed worship other Roman gods. And that Mars, while the supreme deity, might be part of a broader polytheistic religion where other gods play roles of lesser significance. And like with that, the Legion’s various settlements could be dedicated to particular deities, with each city having its own little unique religious practices. Localized temples and patron gods would create a more dynamic culture while maintaining a religion centred on Mars.

Another headcanon of mine is the influence of New Canaanite traditions on the religion of the Legion. I feel like Graham's religious background probably did have an effect during the forming years of the Legion. While this influence would not likely lead to a rejection of the polytheistic system, it could manifest in subtle ways, such as the adoption of certain rituals or expressions like, idk, "amen" being used after prayers.

Oh, and finally, the Legion’s process of absorbing various tribal groups and cultures into its borders inevitably brings with it a plethora of different religious beliefs and practices. While the Legion assimilates the cultures it conquers and enforces a nationalist, imperialist, totalitarian, homogeneous culture that obliterates the identity of every group it takes,  it seems unlikely that every single native religious practice could be entirely erased. Given the sheer number of individuals within the Legion, it is plausible that some form of religious syncretism would emerge. And I do think Caesar is wise enough to bring the tribal religious beliefs into the grander culture of the legion instead of destroying them fully

or maybe not, I don't know; the guy does have an intelligence stat of 4.

[wh1speringwinds]

Help me choose my essay topic :D!!

okay okay

I NEED your opinions on something anyones opinion is welcome!

So, this year, for uni, I will have to write a SHIT ton of essays- one of them is in a class about cultural studies and involves themes of culture, power and identity. We read marxist literature, a gender studies approach, critical race theory and much more and the essay we are supposed to write is entirely our decision. The profs words were essentially "pick something you like and write an analysis of the cultural context"

So now I have like 15 potential topics and I CANT CHOOSE ONE. Lemme give you a list of the potential topics I have, and you guys can gimme your opinions on it:

Class consciousness in the commedia dell'arte: a marxist analysis

Queer politics of non-human characters (yes this is just an excuse for me to write about my favourite characters)

The political implications of merch for revolutionary media (think a critical analysis of the hunger games x shein or british crown x les mis collabs)

Representation of repressed mythologies in modern media (a specific focus on Irish, Welsh and Scottish mythologies, since it is technically British Cultural Studies)

Politics of language learning (Essentially about the inequality and inaccessibility of learning languages, especially minority languages)

[carigm]

A BREAKDOWN OF THE POTENTIAL S5 EPISODE TITLES!!

Okay, so today entertainment journalist Jeff Sneider shared some alleged insider info about S5 of ST, mainly directors and titles of the first 6 episodes.

Here’s a screenshot

It’s important to keep in mind that this guy isn’t always the most reliable, and considering he also said he believes S5 could come out before the end of this year, let’s not take any of this too seriously. (Many cast members have mentioned they’re filming until December of this year so that’s literally impossible). The information about the possible directors I believe is correct, because it’s been circulating around from other sources too.

The episode titles I’m less convinced about because it’s also possible the Duffers could’ve put out fake episode titles in case they leaked. I remember for S2 all the episodes titles they announced were changed later on lol. But for the sake of fun, here’s an analysis of all of them:

1. The crawl (only confirmed title) is a very broad, open title. It personally makes me think of the UD and vines, or maybe even the idea of Vecna crawling back to life. Could also be an allusion to the military.

2. The Vanishing of ___ Wheeler is arguably the most insane one. The journalist said he wasn’t revealing the actual name of the person because it’s a spoiler ofc. My gut tells me it’s gonna be Holly, mainly because of the recast and her supposedly being involved in the hospital plot, which we have guessed takes place in episode 2. Could explain why she’s suddenly “more important” this season, especially if she’s used as a plot device of sorts. Could also tie into what Ted’s actor said in a podcast back in February about the first episodes being a rollercoaster of emotions, and that comment he made about Ted having a soft spot for Holly. It would be a perfect tie in for Karen to find out about the UD as well. The implications of naming the episode the same as the first episode, which is so intrinsically tied to Will, is very interesting. It’s also a new connection/tie between the Byers/Wheelers that I assume will bring the families closer together. I don’t think it’s about Mike because I doubt he’ll go missing in ep.2, or be dragged to the UD just like Will was. It would be an interesting concept but I doubt it. I also don’t think Nancy’s gonna go missing. Karen could be interesting but I doubt it as well. Ted would be an incredibly funny choice. Imagine he just goes missing while at the house 😭 Nonetheless, I think Holly is the clear choice here, and I do very much worry for her if she goes missing. Mainly because while Will survived this, I’m not sure they’ll do the same for Holly :(

It also ties into Vecna’s threat to Nancy against her and her family.

Here’s an interesting leak from the same anon that leaked the hospital stuff (which seems to be correct)

I think this could be the very same scene Holly goes missing.

3. Turbow Trap 😭 This one is utter nonsense. I have no idea what a Turbow is, so I assume it’s gonna be a code or nickname for something. Absolutely clueless here.

4. Sorcerer is incredibly interesting, and imo a clear allusion to Will. His D&D character being a cleric, basically a wizard. Could also be a reference to Vecna imo. Or both 😉

5. Shock Jock is clearly tied to the radio station plotline. Imo the title could be a reference to Steve, Jonathan, or even Murray (he fits that eccentric, somewhat annoying personality quite well) In case you guys don’t know a shock jock is like a very eccentric radio host.

6. Escape from Camazotz is another crazy title. He’s a figure from Mayan mythology who’s a bat spirit. That immediately makes me think of Eddie, but also Steve ofc. However, camazotz has a larger meaning that goes beyond “bat spirit”, it’s also a representation of death and night. So the title seems to be alluding to someone escaping from death or a perilous situation.

Even more interesting perhaps is that kamazotz is a name of a planet in A Wrinkle Time. It’s the planet where IT resides, the mind controlling antagonist of the narrative. So I guess in this comparison Kamazotz is the UD, and IT is Henry.

[the-au-collector]

Scalan Names

So something I've noticed about Missing Link is the names. It's very interesting that they're Roman myth names when the rest of the times we've seen Scala, we've only seen Scalans having Norse names. Especially since we have characters like Freya, whose name does come from Norse Myth, walking around with characters like Remus (and Neptune). I doubt Nomura did this on accident, so I'm curious about the implications of the Norse vs Roman names in Missing Link.

So I went back through Dark Road and Union X and gathered up all the characters with mythological names (yes this includes Missing Link beta content and theorizing). It's a long post, but stay tuned for the end where I've thrown all my Remus thoughts:

Skuld

So in Norse Myth, Skuld is a Norn. Specifically, the Norn of the future. The Norns also closely resemble the Fates from Greek myth, which is interesting. I find it really interesting that Skuld is named specifically after the Norn of the future when her game takes place in the distant past. Obviously all the Union Leaders travel to the future--so why is Skuld the only one named after a myth figure that specifically has to do with that? I can't wait to see how this all lines up later, since so far we've only had one game with her in it.

Baldr

He's the important guy, both in Myth and in Dark Road. In myth, he's the son of Odin that's deceived and killed by Loki, however it is Hod who deals the fatal blow. I feel like his name lines up with his myth inspiration very nicely--he's tricked by darkness, which ultimately leads to his death. However, one really interesting thing is that Baldr is said to survive Ragnarok, so does that mean we'll be seeing Baldr again someday?

Bragi

So Bragi is interesting. In myth, he's actually a poet who was diefied as the god of poetry. He's also known for his wisdom. The really interesting thing though is that myth Bragi's wife, Idunn, had a tree with the apples of youth, which keep the gods from aging. Really interesting that Dark Road's Bragi is actually Luxu, a guy who does not die... Clues lying in plain sight, really.

Vor

There really isn't much to find about Norse Myth's Vor, other than Vor was a minor goddess of wisdom. I just think it's cool that Vor's name is based off of a goddess of wisdom, since Vor's whole arc in Dark Road is figuring out who's right and what she wants to do.

Hermod

So in Norse myth, Hermod is the messenger god and a son of Odin. He also uses magic. In one particular myth, Hermod tried to rescue Baldr from the underworld, but ultimately failed. He has other myths where he acts like a messenger too. I don't really have much to say about Hermod's name inspiration and how it ties to Dark Road, but it is interesting how Hermod dies immediately after visiting the Underworld trying to find Baldr.

Urd

I... I have the least to say about her (at least about the main DR cast). In myth, Urd is a fate like Skuld, but she's the fate of the past. It's just weird she's named after the fate of the past and not the present. Or maybe not since this game is technically Xehanort's past...

Odin

Can you tell he was based off of Odin? He has the long beard, he's old, he's got a long coat, and a wide-brimmed hat (those are how Odin is usually represented). In myth, Odin is the god of war and also poets. He's got a horse named Sleipnir and was a magician. I know there are also theories floating around about Yen Sid potentially being Master Odin and honestly? Yen Sid fits the description.

Heimdall

In myth, Heimdall is the protector of the rainbow bridge and the entrance to Asgard. He also had heightened senses and didn't need to sleep. He and Loki actually ended up killing each other in myth as well. I have even less to say about the upperclassmen, honestly, especially ones like Heimdall who are only in a few scenes anyways. It is ironic that Heimdall was killed by darkness, though (and darkness, in my eyes, takes up a very Loki-like roll).

Helgi and Sigrun

I'm merging these two since their myths are very connected. So basically, Helgi was a Norse hero figure that is the son of Sigmund. He fell in love with a woman named Sigrun and ends up getting killed by her brother, Dragr. Sigrun eventually dies of sadness, but both she and Helgi are reborn. Sigrun is reborn into a Valkyrie named Kara whereas Helgi gets to keep his name. It's very interesting that their myths have aspects of reincarnation tied to them, which isn't true for any of the other DR characters. It's also very curious that Sigrun got a new name... and DR Sigrun looks like Strelitzia...

But that's just a theory a--

Vala

So Vala isn't an actual mythological figure, though they do show up in myths a lot. Basically, a vala is a priestess/shaman. In myth, they could use magic, see the future, and influence battles. I don't have much to say about Vala despite her being one of the more interacted with members of the upperclassmen, but she does appear to be the most wise/level-headed of the group.

Vali

I could have sworn Vali was a girl but Vali is, indeed, a guy in Dark Road. Anyways, in myth Vali is the son of Odin who was born to avenge Baldr and killed Hod. Vali does survive Ragnarok as well. It's just interesting how he has a reverse to his myth inspiration, considering be dies to Baldr and Darkness, though he does try to avenge Hod's death.

Hoder

The blind god of the night in Norse myth and son of Odin. Hod was actually tricked into killing Baldr and so was told by the other gods to avenge Baldr's death by fighting Vali. Vali won, Hod died, but when Ragnarok happened, both Hod and Baldr returned and survived Ragnarok. Very interesting implications when it comes to Kingdom Hearts...

Vidar

In myth, he's the son of Odin and was also fated to survive Ragnarok. He killed the wolf Fenrir, who's Loki's son who ate Odin. That's about all that's known about Vidar from myth. I do think it's very ironic that DR Vidar died to a Heartless when his myth inspiration killed Fenrir. Also interesting that his is the name of someone fated to survive Ragnarok despite him dying in DR...

Sigurd

I nearly forgot him but here he is! His name in myth is Siegfried. He's a hero figure who fought a dragon and awakened a valkyrie from sleep. In some stories, he's of noble blood but was an orphan. He's also associated with the ancient Germanic princess, Brunhild, who had Old Norse origins. Basically the story of Brunhild is that she vowed to marry the man who could beat her in strength, and Siegfried was able too, but he won her for another person. Brunhild got vengeful, and Siegfried died. Not every story of Brunhild leads to his death though.

He's a lot more interesting than I thought, especially for a character who shows up for like 2 lines in Union X's secret ending lol. Likelihood is, he's from another Society or the people in charge, and he welcomed Brain in Scala ad Caelum (this we know). Judging from his myth and what we already know about him, he's likely of noble or blue blood and is probably a Keyblade wielder. I wonder if we'll see any grand feats like fighting a dragon or if he'll die in Missing Link, though?

Freya

I can't really say much for Freya either since she's so new and her game isn't even out yet. She is the sister of Freyr in Norse Myth and is the goddess of love, fertility, battle, and death. So just keep in mind that she's an option for the tragic siblings trope.

Now for the really interesting guys!

Nept

I've decided to start with Neptune since Remus is a whole can of worms. So Neptune is the Roman god of the sea, and used to be just the god of freshwater until the Romans identified him with Poseidon. His myths are the same as Poseidon's: get eaten by his dad, get vomited out, draw sticks to see which realm he gets, yada, yada, yada. He was loyal to the Roman Zeus, Jupiter, and married Salacia, though he had many affairs. He also created horses and bulls!

We really don't know much about Nept since he only has a few released scenes so far, but the fact that he's probably named after the Roman god of water is interesting (i've said it before but Aqua's ancestor??? Perhaps???). I'm a little worried about the loyalty aspect though...

Remus

This. This fucking can of worms. Remus do you even know the implications of your own name?

So the myth of Remus and Romulus! Their mother, Rhea Silvia, was the daughter of the king of Alba Longa, Numitor. Numitor got removed from the throne by his brother, Amulius, who forced Rhea to take a vow of chastity by becoming a Vestal Virgin. Well she ended up having the god of war's, Mars', twin children: Remus and Romulus. They were cared for by Mars' sacred animals (she-wolf and woodpecker) and taken in by farmers, Faustulus and Acca Larentia. When the twins grew up, they killed Amulius and restored their grandfather to the throne. The twins then went on to found a city, and after Romulus built some walls around it, he killed Remus, and the city was named Rome after Romulus.

So this myth is interesting for a number of reasons. First and foremost: the siblings thing. Tragic siblings being a staple of the KH mobile games and all leaves Remus and Romulus perfect candidates for being the tragic siblings. This is also why I'm so worried about Remus being late to showing Player the Astral Realm because--is he already dead? His mythological self dies! It's practically written in the Book of Prophecies at this point!

However the second most important thing about the Remus and Romulus myth is how Remus and Romulus are the grandsons of a king who got overthrown. What if, somehow, the Baroque Society is the very last remnant of Ephemer's line/society? Somehow, what if Ephemer's line gets usurped and its last remains of his society dwindles down to at least 4 people (the question is if there's 5 members considering Freya's "another one" line)? After all, the scientists do say the founders' societies. Who are these other founders? Are they even real? What is going on with Scala ad Caelum's governing situation? We already know that it can't be good, but we don't know how bad it is.

Another really interesting thing is that Player specifically, very weirdly, reaches out to Remus when they're by Ephemer's statue. That scene was all shades of odd. Which begs the question--is Remus somehow connected to Ephemer? Is Remus is the descendant of Ephemer, and all these silver-haired characters are just there to throw us off? Did Ephemer's bloodline somehow get usurped? Is Missing Link going to be about reinstating his family line, or watching it all fall to ruin? Is Remus going to get killed by his own brother?

It's just. It's all shades of interesting and worrying at the same time. And I'm not even mentioning Remus' similarities to Lea!

Conclusion

Remus nearly made me forget this post had a point: the differences between Roman and Norse names. I thought maybe there was a connection between the "sons of Odin" thing going on, but no. Baldr and Hermod both are sons of Odin, but Baldr has a gold Master's symbol and Hermod doesn't. Even for the non-sons, Heimdall has a gold Master's symbol but Bragi doesn't.

It's also too early to really tell anything distinct about the new Missing Link characters, since a) we don't see much of them and b) the naming doesn't differentiate them either. Freya is a member of the Baroque Society alongside Remus and Nept. There's no distinction there either. There is no visual disctinction between Freya, Nept, and Remus except for their underclothes, and I'd say those design choices are more geared toward their personalities than anything else. They also don't have Master's symbols (which is another interesting thing. Sigurd doesn't have one either. Do they not exist yet? Are they the symbol of another society?). Even if they did, we still don't really know the difference between silver and gold ones, though one theory is gold = blue blood, silver = non-blue blood.

There is definitely a naming convention going on here, though. It's no coincidence that all of Dark Road's characters have Norse-inspired names, but not all of Dark Road's do. I just really want to crack why there's this distinction. I'm betting it has something to do with these noble houses/blue blood families, though (I'm willing to overlook Xehanort and Eraqus as they existed long before these concepts were even thought up.). For now I'll leave it at that and post this so that we have a bit of a collection of all the name inspirations for our myth-inspired Kingdom Hearts characters in one place.

Also, if anyone knows more about ancient myth than what Google could tell me, please let me know! I absolutely could have missed something!

[is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not]

What do you think about the alternate universe presented in Battletech: Gothic?

Personally, I'm not a fan of the excessive spikes. On the other hand, more animal people.

(I wish Herb hadn't made the grognard choice to have it been the Capellans be the ones most into using the grafting tech - especially because the tech, and the people that have been changed by it, are largely seen as a negative thing in universe. The not!FWL made the tech, but now they don't use it? Only the Capellans, and to a lesser extent the Combine - coincidentally the two stereotypical "bad guy" factions of the old 80s/90s pre-Clan BT. And then there's Max Liao being a snake person... not the best optics. But tbh, I expected some shit like this once I heard it was written by Herb. When you cast body modification like that as a negative, you bring a whole host of unfortunate implications. Not to mention (maybe) accidentally tying into the reptilian conspiracy crap. And we didn't even get rules for them, just the "kaiju". In broader terms, yeah, also not a fan of the spikes, it's very "we have 40K at home". About the only thing I did like was the partial Ancient Egyptian motif/styling they gave the not!FWL. THAT would have been a better and cooler way to integrate the animal people, building off Egyptian mythology, especially because again, the FWL were the ones that made the tech do it in this timeline. And all the pieces were there to integrate them in a normal, non-biased way, just as in normal canon BT.)

[greenfiend]

can you explain what deep father means? you said its a translation of demogorgon, but what does 'deep father' actually mean symbolically, logisitically, metaphorically etc. it doesnt make grammatical sense so just wondering what you think it means in your theories, as it gets mentioned a fair bit with reverence and creepy undertones but i don't understand what the implication is supposed to actually be.

Hey anon! Great question.

So basically there are many different titles for Demogorgon, and one of them is “The Deep Father”.

x

Demogorgon is a name for a mythological creature that has actually been around a long time. It’s also commonly known as a God/deity/demon of the underworld. And of course, God is a “father” as well.

This also ties into the Ancient Greek myth of Persephone and Hades. Persephone was kidnapped by the God of the underworld: Hades.

When Will says “the Demogorgon, it got me” he is also talking in code about his father… likely because his father kidnapped/abducted him in the past.

Why do I think this? Well…

The framing of this shot with that line…

Joyce yelling at “Papa” that he took Will from her…

Demogorgon aka father taking sons…

Also, the fact that in The First Shadow, Lonnie admitted to stealing baby Jesus from the Nativity set…

Remember guys, there aren’t any throwaway lines in this show!

Just more sad and depressing stuff…

(Credit to @merth-or-nothin for making the connection between the "PAPA!" scene).

I know I’m being controversial when I say that El represents Will and Papa represents Lonnie but… I’m very confident they do. Look at this parallel. Also, remember that within horror, the supernatural/horror elements are representations of the real darkness within humanity.

Then of course this cut. Lonnie hammering the nail, cutting to Mike poking a hole in a paper… representing the gate being open. PLUS Lonnie’s dialogue too. This shows us that Lonnie is responsible for the gate opening in the first place!

Lonnie is the Demogorgon. Lonnie is Papa.

[vegalocity]

It’s honestly a crime that the writing just brushed Syntax’s becoming a Spider under the rug. No, he’s fine with it, don’t worry about it. No we’re not gonna explore this, they’re bad guys and we’re killing them off anyway, don’t worry about it.

There was so much room to explore, especially with how Goliath and Huntsman might’ve felt, but no.

I MEAN RIGHT?

Admittedly it's a running thing with LMK to IMPLY a lot and then look at the audience and say 'no followup questions' with their full chests, (like all of the implications of Red Son's home life being kinda fucked but it barely gets touched upon again after season one despite clear evidence that things aren't all fixed in S3 and we're just supposed to believe everything's aces by S4) And the Spiders i think are probably the most egregious example

the deleted character (rip Spindrax regulated to the shadow relm), one of the characters never gets a dedicated episode to see how he acts as an independent agent and that spider doesn't even have a real NAME (which im sure drives you crazy in particular Twinkle) there are IMPLICATIONS of character arcs and backstories and overall POTENTIAL that just got thrown away to show everyone how cool and dangerous LBD was and gave NO hope of rescue.

Back when s2 was airing i thought LMK was sort of like- Building a rogue's gallery- a sort of batman rogues are we type cabal that could keep the adventures fresh and fun and... nope. I would have KILLED for a sort of 'Harley and Ivy' type episode that was focused entirelhy around the spiders, and possibly run it like essentially an Ed Edd N Eddy episode as the spider boys tried running a heist or smth without SQ there to keep them from feeding off of eachother's vibes too hard and it all turning to complete chaos.

LMK has a lot of stylistic influence to Adveture Time, and you can tell they WANT MK to be a Finn type (I mean his place in the mythological system seems to be essentially Finn's Catalyst Comet arc truncated significantly) but you kinda can't make an adventure time style world without understanding that the world belongs just as much to the semi-reformed wizard kidnapping princesses as it does to the hero that kicks him in the boingloins, you know?

and LMK very much belongs ONLY to the Monkie Kid Krew (I mean ive gone on record to say that Tang's arc would have been MUCH more interesting if he WASN'T actually the Monk in a past life and really was Just Some Guy and fully earned his own magic, but that would mean the world was bigger than just the characters designated as important so that couldn't be) and the villains are just pins to set up and knock over in a season and a special's time (if they even get that, sorry Nine Heads)

But as for Huntsman and Goliath's perspectives on Syntax- man i WISH i knew those... I think the ones i like the best are Goliath being... nice but distant to the new guy in like a 'whatever the queen clearly thinks its fine' type way and Hutnsman being like- INSTANTLY thinking Syntax is gunning for his 'position' (whatever it is) and is HYPER aware of him, Syntax is living RENT free in this spider's head because he's CONVINCED that he's after his position in the 'loyalty to the queen' social ladder or smth and meanwhile Syntax, genre savvy as he is is like "oh we're gonna do that thing where we start out as rivals but grow closer to respect eachother and eventually become very close friends and playfully compete with eachother sometimes to keep the spice in the banter! this is fun! ^.^"

Idk sounds like more fun than a pile of dead bodies that don't even get the dignity of being brought back in flashbacks