#want to witness the particulars so I can have a full understanding of why it fucking sucks and put

[dankovskaya]

The crazy thing about it is again 1) it was the most ubiquitously popular anime on a global scale possibly ever like I still cannot believe the degree to which Fucking Everyone was watching it (or at least aware of it) anime fan or not and it really did seep into popular culture in a way few other anime have managed to do even with only one goddamn season at the time and 2) obviously a lot of alt-right freaks very uncritically worship the show for reasons that are obvious without even watching it just from knowing the recurring criticisms but I've definitely also seen at least a few instances of people who would consider themselves. Lefties in whatever form who are very aware of all of its problems and still vouch for it as a complex and well written narrative or whatever and clearly derive a very polar opposite interpretation of what the story is actually saying so it feels very. *touches the ground* Something fucking happened here

[sunflowerwizard]

I've seen enough people mischaracterizing Early Access Wyll, so here's the best breakdown of his original character I can give.

I'll start this off by plainly summarizing Wyll's EA backstory, some of his core personality traits, then do a bit of analysis.

BACKSTORY

EA Wyll mentions being "born and bred in the upper city" into nobility. It's unspecified what exact level of influence his family occupied.

In datamined voice lines from EA (take with a grain of salt) Wyll refers to being from House Eltan specifically. Eltan was the Grand Duke of Baldur's Gate in the first Baldur's Gate Game, and the founder of the Flaming Fist. Forgotten Realms lore states that the Eltans are no longer in charge of the Fist and have somewhat diminished in power, but again. We don't know to exactly what level.

This also means that this iteration of Wyll was not Ulder Ravengard's son. While he still spoke about his father in EA, the descriptions and characterizations do not line up with Ulder at all. Additionally, he comments about "knowing of" Ravengard during the burning inn sequence, but otherwise makes no connection.

The most damning evidence of all that Wyll being a Ravengard was not originally intended, is Wyll wanting to be like his father and thus "going thieving in the wrong shadows".

Wyll gets caught stealing, presumably as a teenager, and his father uses latent connections within the Flaming Fist to get Wyll sent there. Effectively the fantasy equivalent of sending your unruly kid to boot camp.

Wyll mentions that he didn't adjust well to life as part of the Flaming Fist, was not a very good fighter, and was generally not well liked. The goblin at the windmill calling Wyll "Captain Failure" implies he might have been given higher status despite not earning it.

The way Wyll feels about goblins is a big change between EA and full release, and is explained as part of his backstory.

We didn't get the finer details, but we can assume Wyll in his time with the Fist bore witness to a group of goblins razing a village. Horrified and enraged, he tried fighting a goblin, was overwhelmed, and had his eye torn out.

This is when Mizora showed up and offered him a pact. Considering he was left for dead and probably going to bleed out, it's pretty understandable why he took the deal.

Mizora is not nearly as present in Early Access as she is in the current game. Karlach was not involved in Wyll's story at all, there's no devil transformation.

It's also more heavily insinuated there's a sexually coercive element of Wyll and Mizora's relationship, with him speaking to how every time he wanted to leave her, she found some way to pull him back.

Additionally, Wyll wants out of that contract. Unlike full release where Mizora is randomly captured in Act 2, she starts off kidnapped, and insists she'll let Wyll go if he frees her

It kind of ended up being a plot cul de sac, but Torturer Spike was the goblin that took Wyll's eye--which was a quest item you could pickpocket/loot off his body. Wyll had commentary on it and everything.

TL;DR: -Born to a noble family with Flaming Fist connections -Caught Stealing and sent to work for the Fist as punishment -Tried to fight back during a goblin attack and was gravely injured -Mizora offers a pact -Uses his pact to become a traveling monster hunter, presumably to make up for his past failure to protect people. Antagonistic towards goblins in particular -Ultimately wants out of the pact, but Mizora won't let him go -Wyll and Mizora get abducted by Mind Flayers -Mizora agrees to let Wyll go if he frees her from the cultists

PERSONALITY

This is a bit less concrete than changed story beats, but I can say this: a lot of Wyll's core traits stayed intact between EA and full release. He's still willing to put his life on the line for the Tiefling refugees, with a whole cut line about how the kids he's training deserve to have a carefree childhood. He wants to do good in the world, probably because he spent so much time in his youth feeling like a fuck up.

There's also a much clearer divide between "Wyll" and "The Blade of Frontiers". Notably, in EA he didn't introduce himself by name. Not even a "my friends call me Wyll" quip at Shadowheart like he has currently. During his old romance scene, he has a line about being used to being the hero, and not used to needing one. He's a symbol. An emblem of something bigger than himself. The fact he's so self-aggrandizing as The Blade makes it apparent he's not confident in himself as "just Wyll"

He's also decidedly more forward and flirty in EA, with no reservations about courtship. In fact, the main obstacle to your budding relationship is Mizora herself. Wyll's trauma from her treatment interrupts your first night together. Whether you have sex or just snuggle, Wyll has a line about how he doesn't want to start a relationship until he can "give himself completely" after being freed from his pact.

THOUGHTS & COMPARISONS

I'm also not entirely sure if I'd say EA Wyll is substantially angrier than current Wyll, so much as he had more opportunities to be angry during Early Access. I can understand why the goblin stuff was cut, because it did dip into "Let's make the one black guy fantasy racist" trope. However, it did very much feel like the narrative was pointing in bright, flashing colors that this is a trait Wyll would have to grapple with, learn, and grow from. The fact EA Wyll's most glaring character flaw was scrapped and didn't get much of a replacement in full release makes his story feel less realized.

While I appreciate the overtly sexual element of Wyll and Mizora's relationship was removed, I feel like the final version is somehow even more creepy. During Early Access she existed in the background as a vague villain you only experience via Wyll. And if you do his romance scene and see the way he panics at the mere memory of her, you get the impression of oh shit. This broad is bad news and I've gotta get my boy out of there. The same principle behind not showing the big scary monster too early in the horror movie. Once you've seen it, you can't let your mind fill in the blanks. Mizora went from this intimidating figure whose motives you couldn't fully ascertain, to a mean girl that thinks she's smarter than everyone else but is really just the bumbling lackey of a bigger fish. Who pulls Wyll around with an actual metaphysical leash like a dog. And you're meant to find this sexy.

My final point, and I've said this before: current Wyll's personality seemed more suited to being a scion of house Eltan, while EA Wyll seemed more suited to being Ulder Ravengard's dissapointment son. Current Wyll speaks and carries him like someone raised in nobility despite only being elevated to such status as a teenager. Perhaps this is cynical and maybe even a bit of a conspiracy theory, but I genuinely think he's only Ravengard's son to save on time and assets. Why give Wyll a whole unique family with its own story when we can just tie him in to the "rescue the grand duke" plot, regardless of how much sense it makes!

[dumbkiri]

𝕯𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖄𝖔𝖚

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃

"Can we have a twin of Aegon be the rider of Balerion? I know Balerion dies and cannot fly even with Viserys, but I want him to be a supported for the Blacks because...yeah! Also give him a sword of fire like Dondarrion has too! I know incest is weird to write, but Helaena needs someone to appreciate her!! Not a lot of detail, but pop off with this one! "

Not very knowledgeable on HOTD, but I tried!

The doors to the council room pushed open with an eerie creak paired with the sounds of heavy footfalls of a grieving father and husband. Dressed in his black armor with red accents and his sword, Hellfire, strapped to his waist unnerved the council. The presence of [Name] Targaryen hushed his grieving twin brother instantly.  

Aegon quieted down his anger upon witnessing the emotion flowing off of [Name], his lilac glare pointed at the floor in deep thought as he walked up the steps. This emotion [Name] conveyed hadn’t been new to Aegon, it reminded him of the time [Name] demanded their father to give Helaena’s hand to himself. 

Their father, Viserys, laughed in his face…the old man hadn’t laughed in awhile like that and it unnerved the twin boys. But Viserys’ laugh turned into a cough and he cleared his throat out saying, “Your brother is getting married to Lady Jeyne, [Name]. Helaena is all yours and will be soon.” 

[Name] has always wanted Helaena, their odd sister and claimed that, ‘Nobody is willing to understand her, but I am. She should be with me.’ That madness subsided with Viserys’ joyful laugh and reassuring words. This time was different. Their father wasn’t here as king or here to calm him down with hopeful words. No, it was just him. Aegon, the drunken twin…the weak king. 

He watched his twin walk up to the table and stopped at the foot of it. [Name] leaned over it and set his palms on the smooth surface. Clearing his throat and looking straight ahead, at no one in particular this time, he asked every council member, 

“Why were our wives and children unguarded at the dead of night?” 

His calm words  didn’t quite match the fire in his eyes, but the sudden echoed roar of Balerion outside of King’s Landing stirred the council fully awake. Alicent looked around the table and waited for someone to answer her son’s question. She couldn’t put the dangerous eyes of her son on herself...or Cole.

But fear seeped into the very essence of her wretched soul. Helaena walked in on a terrible deed between the queen dowager and the lord commander. Alicent knew that [Name], his gentle words would convince Helaena to tell him every detail of this night. Helaena never held secrets away from her older brother, she always confided with him in everything. 

The rest of the men didn’t speak either and Tyland kept his mouth shut. The outburst he received from Aegon was unmatched to [Name]’s, the rider of The Black Dread. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to speak against the dragon rider that had a god of light guarding him. 

“A little bit ago, I was with your brother, Aemond,” Otto spoke freely, casting a smooth glance over at Criston Cole, “but before that, Cole and your brother were conversing together. I sent Cole away to his watch to have a word with Aemond.”

[Name] dragged his eyes over from his grandfather to Cole and asked, “Did you go back to your post, Lord Commander? Answer this question correctly, I fear that Balerion didn’t have his full for today.” 

Tension was high in the room and Balerion never seized his loud roaring that sounded closer with each minute. Cole shuffled in his spot next to Aegon who looked up at him with suspicion. The rest of the council looked at the Lord Commander wondering why [Name] fixated his lilac eyes so hard on Cole.

“I was abed, my prince.” Cole said without looking [Name] in the eyes. 

“And where were your men? Why weren’t there any guards patrolling the floor my family slept on?” The rising tone, the boiling anger in his throat made his voice raspy. His open palms closed into tight fists as he continued to ask, “Why is it that the moment you send the Watch to sleep, our sons were left at the cruel hands of murderers!” 

His left hand slammed against the table making glasses clink in their place. 

“Your white cloak,” [Name]’s voice knocked down in volume, not seizing up for anyone to speak between his breaths, “is stained with the blood of Jaehaerys and Rhaegar. I will figure out a punishment befitting you once I clear my head.”

Alicent swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to reason with her usual kind son, “[Name], this doesn’t-” 

“You will speak once spoken to, mother,” His eyes slowly moved over to her fear stricken ones and she knew why she was getting his hostility. His biting words covering her in flames eating away at her guilt, “Helaena told me what happened tonight. Everything I need to know. For being such a godly woman and criticizing every move the Blacks make, I’m disappointed in the actions you took tonight.”

He straightened out his back and addressed everyone at the table, “Tonight will teach everyone here a lesson.

“The Night’s Watch will stay at their post, guarding the royal family to their very last breath. They will have patrol times and stick to it. If their Lord Commander comes up to them with a release, the Night’s Watch will turn into stone and keep their post. Their job is to guard the royal family, protect the castle. I will not have another incident like this one. I will not have my wife witness such a heinous act of child murder. 

“As for the rest of us, before we return to bed, we make sure there is a knight in or around our presence. I want you to fall asleep to the sounds of clinking armor knowing that there is a knight outside your door or on your floor patrolling. I want us to sleep peacefully and…”

“Rhaegar…he was faster than I was,” Helaena’s tears slid down her cheeks, “he was braver than I was. I didn’t see this, I-I couldn’t stop him. Our little boy ran in to save Jaehaerys and he wasn’t scared. He held the dagger you gave him on his nameday and scarred one of them. Then while he was choking at that man’s hands, he said his last words, “My father will burn you in the blackest hells, ratcatcher. He will.””

[Name] paused hearing Helaena’s voice in his head, he couldn't cry right now. Rhaegar was only seven years old and the boy fought back to save his family. His little boy had run in to save his family's lives because no one else was there, not even himself. 

“-and not worry about ratcatchers.” 

His stance faltered and he fell back into the chair at his side. His gloved hand wiped at his face to shake away the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. Helaena kept speaking to him, her words haunting him, 

“Jeyne grabbed her remaining daughter out of her bed and Daenerys held tightly onto my dress while I snuck Viserys out of his crib. The two of us ran away from that horrible sound with our children, leaving poor Jaehaerys and Rhaegar behind. Jeyne kept crying as we ran for our lives, kept asking where the knights were. Where were they?” 

“I don’t know,” [Name] felt like she was asking him, ‘where were you?’ and he wanted to say out flying Balerion in the night. But she knew he flew Balerion out in the night because he had the need to patrol around that time. And no one would see him or Balerion when the beast itself blends in the darkest sky. 

“Helaena, is there anything else you would like to tell me?” He asked before he would storm into the council room and demand for answers. 

His wife looked over at Daenerys cuddled up in her father’s arms with tear tracks stained on her young face. Helaena didn’t know if she could tell him about their mother’s…activity with the Lord Commander. But she didn’t need to because Daenerys mumbled something in his chest. 

[Name] stirred and moved his daughter to look her in the eyes, “Say that again, Dany. I didn’t quite catch that.” 

Daenerys looked into his eyes and said, “Grandmother…she was with the Lord Commander.” 

Helaena watched the confusion morph her husband’s face and he nodded his head, “Well yes, Ser Criston Cole is in charge of watching over your grandmother.”

Daenerys shook her head and clarified as best as a child could do, “He wasn’t guarding her, father. He was in her bed.” [Name]’s blood ran cold. The reason why Jaehaerys and Rhaegar died was because Cole didn’t want the Night’s Watch to-

“Helaena is this true?” He looked over at his sister-wife and she nodded her head with her eyes on the floor. His heart dropped to his stomach at this revelation. His skin crawled with the act of deceit. His mother called the Lord Commander to her chambers, thus allowing the release of the Night’s Watch on the royal family. 

“Rhaegar looked like you, father, fighting back that man” Daenerys sniffled and wiped her eyes with her small hands, “he wounded the ratcatcher. His eye is scarred, sort of like uncle Aemond. I think…I think Rhaegar knew his end, but he wounded his attacker so you could find him.”

“Of course he did,” [Name] whispered and hugged his daughter to his chest, pressing her face into the crook of his neck where she cried some more. Of course Rhaegar did that, he never went down without a fight. He was taught to protect his family, to harm those that pose a threat to them. But [Name] never taught his first born to think for himself. Think about a life Rhaegar could live for. Instead his son sacrificed himself to buy time for Helaena and Jeyne. 

“I’m sorry, my girls,” [Name] choked out, his tears finally cascading down his face, “I wasn’t there for you. I could have stopped it, I could have saved you from those bastards. Dany, your brother could have still been alive if I had-”

Daenerys moved her head and tilted her chin up, her gaze piercing his soul, “I know it’s not your fault, father. You were flying out with Balerion like you always do every night. Rhaegar knew what he had to do, I don’t blame you for his bravery.” 

Bravery. Not death. Daenerys saw her older brother as a brave child that passed away with honor. Not as a little boy with a dagger, weak to a full grown man. He looked over at his wife and she nodded her head in approval. Helaena could never blame [Name], she knew if he were present, he would have slaughtered the ratcatchers. 

“Helaena, Daenerys,” [Name] looked at his daughter then back to his wife. With gritted teeth, he said, “Cole will face consequences for releasing the Night’s Watch and I will find the ratcatcher that killed Rhaegar. This I promise to you.” 

“What about…mother?” Helaena cautiously asked her husband. She saw the turmoil in his eyes and he handed Daenerys over to her arms. Then he stood up and brought his sad gaze over to Viserys sleeping in his crib.  

“Mother will feel guilty all her life for this moment,” [Name] began walking away and said, “I hope it drives her mad.” 

“Brother, tell them that this idea is madness! We cannot allow our sons to be dragged across this city for show!” Aegon’s voice filled with hurt brought [Name] out of his misery and he looked at the table.

“What idea?” He sat up in his chair and Otto looked over at [Name] carefully wording his sentence out. 

“We will honor Prince Jaehaerys and Rhaegar by showing the cruelty of Rhaenyra’s actions to the people. This will-” 

[Name] shook his head and looked at Otto, asking, “Wait, Rhaenyra did this? She was the one that ordered our sons to die?” 

Alicent looked down at the table and folded her hands together, “We don’t know for sure, but-” 

“That’s a serious accusation that will not be taken lightly. Did she or did she not order that Prince Jaehaerys should die?” [Name] demanded, his hand itching to spill some blood. His anger was getting the best of him, eating away at his best traits. 

Everyone remained quiet at the table until Aegon shot up from his seat, raging with fury. [Name] didn’t notice that Cole had left the room. “Of course she fucking did! She’s a cunning little bitch! I want her to answer for the crimes she committed against us!” 

[Name] couldn't believe it. Rhaenyra would never cause the same pain she felt when she lost Lucerys to Aemond on Helaena. But he wanted answers, “I will fly to Dragonstone tomorrow morning and demand for answers.” He stood up from his seat and stopped short in his path. “I’m not going to start a war, not yet. I will confront my sister and ask her about this crime.” 

“She’ll lie to your face!” Aegon shouted, spit flying viciously out of his mouth. 

[Name] looked over his shoulder and scrutinized him, “People cannot lie easily with Balerion in sight. You pissed your pants when he didn’t choose you, so imagine what others will do.”

He walked a bit more and one of the guards opened the door for him. Then he set his hand on the door, he kept his eyes forward and addressed his grandfather, “A Hightower shouldn’t speak on Targaryen traditions. My son is going to be honored only by his family and burned by Balerion. His bravery isn’t a spectacle for King’s Landing and I won’t have strangers mourning him. His body has been defiled enough along with Jaehaerys. I don’t see why we have to show them our pain, sympathizing with us isn’t enough reason for them to peek into our lives. Anyone who touches Rhaegar’s body…will die.”

……

After his talk with the council, [Name] found himself in his bed with his two girls and baby boy. Viserys had been busy climbing on Helaena with cute babbles while Dany cuddled up against [Name]’s bare chest. “I am going to Dragonstone to ask our sister if she had anything to do with this. I’m leaving early in the morning, I would like everyone to join me.” 

“You’re going to visit Aunt Rhaenyra, father?” Daenerys sat up with a hopeful gleam in her eyes. “That means we can fly on Balerion together.” [Name] nodded his head and brushed her long hair behind her ears. 

“But what if she thinks it's a sign of war?” Helaena asked.

[Name] cleared his throat and said, “They’re scared of Vhagar as it is, I don’t think they want to fight Balerion as well. I can win that fight easily against her motherly dragon. Rhaenys would be my worry for Balerion. But that’s beside the point, I’m there looking for answers, not a fight.”

Helaena looked down at Viserys and the two year old smiled at her. “I’m afraid to fly with him.”

[Name] sat up and cleared his throat, “I can have Viserys’ strapped to my back while-”

“I meant Rhaegar,” Helaena murmured and looked away from her family. Meanwhile [Name] sighed and knew his plan for having Rhaegar honored by the Blacks instead of the Greens was going to have a bad effect on his wife. But he couldn’t do it. Jaehaerys would be shown around to the people, but not Rhaegar. Not his boy.

“I can fly with all three of them, Helaena. Balerion is big enough to carry all of us and it’ll be no big deal for him.” [Name] reasoned, hoping his wife would look at him. 

“I can ride with Mother,” Dany offered with a sweet smile, “if she wants me too.” 

Helaena looked back at her daughter and returned the smile, “Yes, of course little one. Are we also taking their dragons with us?” She looked at [Name] for clarification. She knew what his big plan was and this would cement the fact. 

“Yes, that is the idea of it,” He whispered back, afraid she would reject it. Moving out of King’s Landing to Dragonstone is a risk he was willing to take to keep his family alive. He wished he only did it sooner. 

“Okay, I trust you.” She leaned forward and pressed a shy kiss on his cheek. This action had Daenerys giggle with a blush on her face. [Name] bristled at the action himself and awed at the expression on his daughter’s face. Though they experienced a terrible night, his girls were able to show a bit of comfort and happiness. 

He held back his tears and longed for Rhaegar to return. Longed for his family to be complete again. Helaena saw the tears in his eyes nonetheless and she placed her hand onto his face, “We should rest, we have an early journey ahead of us.” She released his face and picked up Viserys, putting the babe into his own bed with his young dragon laying at the top left corner.

While she settled the boy, [Name] slid out of bed and pulled out the logs from the fireplace leaving it only a kindle now. The room darkened exponentially and he made his way back to the bed at the same time Helaena did. Dany pushed her father over to the middle so she could share him with her mother. With Helaena on his right, she cuddled up against his chest, her head laying on his shoulder. Daenerys on his left hugged his arm tightly and the little girl went fast asleep with light snores. 

The fire crackled a few times before dying out completely, letting the full moon being the only source of light in the room. [Name] stayed awake thinking about tonight. He thought about looking for the ratcatcher when his girls fell asleep. He already had Rhaegar wrapped and prepared for the flight to Dragonstone. Perhaps he wanted to torture his mother a little bit longer before he left too. 

His eyes felt heavy with sleep, shouldn’t be long until his eyes shut for the night. Then he heard a few clicking noises of baby dragons. He lied still and saw two silhouettes climbing up his legs. Then the two baby dragons made their way to Dany, they made small noises until they settled right next to her body. One curled up next to her stomach and the other laid on his arm where Dany held on tightly. 

“My love,” [Name] whispered and turned his head slowly at Helaena. His wife stirred then blinked her eyes a couple of times. “You have to look at Dany, Helaena.” He whispered again, hoping not to scare the two hatchlings near his daughter. 

Helaena noticed his stiff body and she cautiously moved herself upward, peering down at the scene her husband was fawning over. “Moonlight and Nightmare…Rhaegar’s dragon is sleeping with her too?” 

[Name] shook his head with a teary grin, “Even in death, our boy is watching over his twin. I don’t know what to say right now besides that. I…There’s so many words I want to say, Helaena. I know you said it’s not my fault, but if I just stayed-”

Helaena put her hand on his chest then moved it upward to wipe the tears from his eyes. “It’s not your fault, [Name]. Please stop blaming yourself. You are a great father, you raised a strong boy who protected his family. You raised a strong girl who speaks with praise, not blame. And I know how Viserys is going to grow up too.”

“You…you had a dream again?” [Name] asked and relished her warm touch. 

“I’m a dreamer of you, my love,” She smiled with glee, “and yes, it was beautiful. Our family finds peace in the North, not sure how, but we do. And our family never stops growing. Dreamfyre and Balerion grow accustomed to the cold and have clutches to support our growing family. All is well with the Targaryens that move up North, my light in the darkness. Now please, let us rest, we need not worry about our future anymore.” 

She pressed a light kiss on his lips and his head fell back onto the pillow. He closed his eyes and followed her order. Yes, she had a vision and she loved every second of it. She couldn’t wait to move up North. To have her husband create a grand alliance with Cregan Stark, the Wolf and the Dragon. This alliance will bring an end to this war between the Greens and the Blacks. 

After the war ends, she would be surrounded by five children and even more grandchildren. And the amount of dragons flying in the North would scare any Southerner that threatens the North. 

Yes, this vision was beautiful. After all, any vision involving [Name] always has been.

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

I have an idea I would love to request but I wanted to check with you first! I couldn't help but think Astarion would be so infuriated & confused by me. Like when he held a knife at their throat, they're willing to give him a chance. Their reason is he has no real reason to trust them since he doesn't know them at all so they would show to him that they can be trusted. Then he's more confused when the first time he tries to drink blood from them, reader is shocked then immediately asks questions if it hurts, do they need to be healed, how should their position be so it's easier for him to drink, what would happen after that, etc. Even after he drank & they were feeling the effects, they asked if he still needed more. He answered them no confusedly before they were satisfied with his answer then passed out. He is both relieved and baffled at what just happened. What do you think of this? Please tell me if you're not interested! Thanks!

Local Vampire Spawn confused by care and offers of friendship, more at eleven.

~

Astarion, surprisingly, had gotten pretty lucky when it came to his newfound traveling companions. Two master swordsmen, a barbarian tiefling menace, and a Shar priestess were about the best one could ask for when it came to having protection. He could probably do without the do-gooder druid and walking time bomb of a wizard, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

And then there was you. The unofficial leader of the merry band of weirdos. Hyper competent, kind, and a powerful, and admittingly gorgeous, warrior. You would be perfection if you weren't so... frustrating.

Simply put, Astarion thought you were an idiot. A well-meaning, naive idiot, but a moron nonetheless.

What other explanation was there for your delusional trust in him? Your introduction had involved him pressing a damned blade to your throat, with every intent to kill you if you decided to struggle. Maybe even if you hadnt, if you had been alone. The correct response to a first meeting of that caliber would be to completely disregard him. Or kill him, for someone who had any conception of self-preservation.

But no, instead you gave him the offer to come with you, like that wasn't an absolutely insane thing to do. You had been so understanding, insisting that his penance for trickery and threats was justified. That you would be sure to earn his trust, like that was something worth obtaining.

At first, Astarion tried not to look too deeply into it. You were all going through hell, it made sense to travel in a pack, to find solidarity in others while trapped in a land full of endless horrors. It would explain why you kept the violate gith and the walking bomb around, despite their faults. There was also that foolish air of empathetic care about you at all times that helped explain things, one that extended far past Astarion himself. Though it did have limits. Astarion had borne witness to how unforgiving you could be when someone manipulated your trust. Though he completely agreed that the Hag known as Auntie Ethel fully deserved a slow, painful death, he hadn't been prepared for just how... literal you would take it.

So while you weren't completely without common sense, you still lacked a good deal of it. Like the fact that letting a vampire spawn drink your blood at night wasn't included in those same limits.

He hadn't even meant to open that particular door of feeding on you. It was just... so terribly hard to resist. You smelled divine, the scent of your blood always lingering beneath the surface of your skin. Cloying and decadent, the slightest whiff nearly enough to make his mouth water. He had been trying so damn hard to hide his true nature, feeding on whatever he could find in the dead of night. But none of it felt like enough. It should have been, he had more access to sustenance in the forest than he ever had under Cazedor's thumb. And wild boar were certainly better than sewer rats at the least.

But it wasn't enough to tame his growing desire for your taste. It had just happened. One moment he was simply on his own bedroll, staring up at the stars. And in the next the hunger was overtaking him. He was crawling over you before his mind could even catch up to his actions, his mouth already widening.

And then you woke-up, startled enough to knock Astarion out of his all-consuming thirst. You scrambled to your feet, staring at him with wide eyes as he struggled through an explanation. He had every expecation that this was it. This as the moment you would toss him to the side, realizing once and for all that he wasn't worth the danger.

But instead you just nodded along, the first question out of your mouth when he finished a simple, "Will it hurt?"

Astarion blinked at you, confused at you lack of reaction. He had admitted to being a literal monster for gods' sake. And that's what you were most curious about?

"Yes," Astarion said slowly, watching your face for every microexpression, "It will hurt, briefly. Then the pain fades into something a bit more... tolerable."

You nodded, asking another question, "Would I need healing after? Or would a bandage be enough? I would hate to wake Shawdowheart so late."

That was-he-were you actually considering this?

Astarion shook his head, hope and excitement starting to bubble to the surface, "No, a bandage should be fine. You might want her to top you off with something in the morning, but it won't be anything that can't wait."

"Okay," You said, nodding to yourself once before meeting his eyes with a determined gaze, "In that case, should I lay down? Or would standing be better?"

Astarion could scarcely believe your willingness. Part of him wanted to ask if you were sure that you wanted to do this, but his sheer lust for the taste of your blood shut that part down. Instead Astarion was reaching for your hand, gently tugging you down to lay back on your bedroll.

"This will be perfect," He murmured as he crawled back over you, his fangs protruding on their own accord, "Now stay still darling, we don't want to tear anything, do we?"

Astarion could just make out a lovely flush grace your cheeks at the pet name, barely visible by the campfire. It was a good look on you, that mixture of embarrassment and nerves, one that he wouldn't mind seeing again. But for now he had other appetites to attend to.

Astarion bit down, nearly moaning when the divine taste hit his tongue. Somehow it managed to taste even better than it smelled, warm ambrosia sliding down his throat, filling him with pure energy. It was an exhilarating experience, so much better than anything he'd ever tasted before. It was nearly too good, decadent enough for him to feel greedy.

He could feel you shaking under him, letting out the occasional whimper and whine. He was vaguely aware that this had been going on for too long, that he was taking too much. But it was so damn hard to resist.

It wasn't until you were gently pushing at him, whimpering, "I-I think that's enough."

There was the slightest touch of fear in your voice, the only thing that worked to pierce through his bloodthirsty haze. Astarion rolled off of you, licking his lips with a happy sigh. That was... better than he could ever have imagined.

He hopped up to his feet, sticking a hand out to help you do the same. You seemed woozy and unsteady as you stood, proving his suspicion that he had taken too much. It made the smallest lick of guilt creep up his spine. But it's not like you were ever going to let him do it again, he might as well indulge-

"Are you sure that was enough?" You asked, completely derailing his train of thought, "Will you be okay with just that? Or should we try again in a few hours?"

Were you actually insane?

"No my friend. I think I'll be fine," Astarion said carefully, "Another night perhaps. But, uh, are you okay?"

You shrugged, already sinking back down to your knees, snuggling back into your bedroll like nothing was out of the ordinary, "I'm sure I will be. Just a little tired now is all. Good night."

And then you were closing your eyes, out like a light while Astarion stood above you. Confused beyond belief. That was... how were you still alive? If this was the kind of thing you were willing to do for a near stranger, with nearly 0 reservations?

It was insane, idiotic, stupid. And now you just fell asleep right in front of the same man who cannibalized your blood? What the fuck was that? How was one supposed to respond to that? Astarion was grateful yes, beyond so. He went on to have a very successful hunt, even if his catches tasted worse than ever, they still left him feeling satisfied and capable. But he was plagued with thoughts of you the entire time. Thoughts that followed him through to the morning and the days to come.

You were so damn lucky that he was the spawn that was kidnapped. Half of his brethren would have already used your trust to bleed you dry before fleeing into the night. Gods knows what would have happened to you if it was Cazador who was taken in his place. That thought alone was enough to make shiver, clouding his brain with a massive discomfort at what someone like that would do with someone as... kind as you.

Astarion would never allow it. As stupid as you were, it didn't mean you deserved to be used. Well... by anyone besides himself of course. He was starting to think that he could use all of this blind trust to his advantage. Get you attached to him, force himself as a priority in your life that was worth protecting. But for that to happen you would have to stay alive. And that would mean someone would have to protect you from your infuriating self.

Astarion supposed that would just have to be his job. What it meant that the idea of doing such didn't fill him with resentment? He wasn't sure, and he sure as hells wasn't going to try and find out.

[ploppythespaceship]

Please Watch My Adventures with Superman

This show is just so delightful and manages to capture the essence of Superman in a way a lot of adaptations just don't quite get. If you've ever been curious about Superman, if you've ever felt Superman is too boring for you, or you just enjoy a fun superhero story, I highly recommend checking this series out.

The first season has ten episodes, and the second season has just aired its third episode. In the US, it's available on Adult Swim and Max.

What It's About

If you aren't familiar with Superman, he's an alien -- the last survivor of planet Krypton, sent to Earth as an infant where he was found and raised as Clark Kent. Being an alien, he has extraordinary powers which he uses to lead a double life as a hero. This show focuses on a core trio of Clark, his girlfriend Lois, and their friend Jimmy, all of whom work at the Daily Planet newspaper.

Clark Kent / Superman

One of the main reasons this show works is it understands that Clark is Clark, first and foremost, and Superman is his disguise. Clark is a big friendly nerd. He's a huge sweetheart who cares so deeply about the people around him and the planet that adopted him.

This version of Clark is starting out very young (early 20s), so a lot of this story is about him just figuring things out. He's gradually learning the truth about his origins, the extent of his powers, and how best to be a hero -- all while grappling with the fact that he isn't human and his people of origin may in fact be a massive threat to Earth.

Clark is voiced by Jack Quaid, which you might not expect to work well, but he honestly nails it.

Lois Lane

Lois is loud. She's ambitious. She's intelligent and quick-witted. She doesn't take no for an answer. She has jumped off a building to prove her point -- twice. She is an unstoppable force of nature, and this show refuses to dumb any of those traits down.

But above all, she's kind. She wants to use everything she can do to help people. Her relationship with Clark is also everything you could ever want from a Clois dynamic.

This version of Lois is Korean-American, and voiced by Alice Lee, who does a phenomenal job.

Jimmy Olsen

Jimmy is Clark's best friend and roommate. This version portrays him as a supernatural/paranormal vlogger, running a web series called Flamebird. He's easily excitable, very passionate, as well as one of the most dedicated friends you could ask for.

Following in the footsteps of several previous iterations of the character, this version of Jimmy is African-America. He's voiced by Ishmael Sahid, who's just perfect in the part.

Why It's Great

The characters are all fun and interesting in their own right, while also having a great dynamic with each other -- as duos and as a full trio. And because the characters are shown as being very young and just starting out, they're very relatable. Additionally, every character feels very true to the spirit of their comics counterpart, despite taking a lot of liberties with the specifics.

There's a great cast of villains so far -- Livewire, Task Force X, Mxyzptlk, Parasite, Silver Banshee, and plenty of others that I don't want to spoil. They've also been teasing some really interesting stuff for the Kryptonians, which is noticeably different from any previous adaptations I'm familiar with.

The show is very anime-inspired, giving it a distinct flavor from other Superman adaptations. The creators are clearly having a ton of fun with it. Classic Superman villain Mxyzptlk, who's typically shown as an imp, now looks like he just walked out of a Dragon Ball episode, in an episode called "Kiss Kiss Fall In Portal."

It's also the same animation studio as The Legend of Korra and Voltron: Legendary Defender, who do excellent work. The character designs are unique while still fitting the characters perfectly. I particular love Clark and Superman's designs -- they've struck a balance between making sure he's big and muscular while also retaining a certain softness to his appearance. The fight scenes are fluid and dynamic. It all just works.

[rosenotactuallyquartz]

Wait, was it confirmed by the creators that Pearl’s It’s Over, Isn’t It was only about how she personally saw the situation? I always thought that, but it’s nice to have confirmation!

the truth about it’s over, isn’t it

before i start, i just wanted to say that this can be a standalone post… but a few minutes after this, im going to post my analysis of both of you, which is really like a part two, in a way.

anyway.

i constantly tell people, “i love this song, but i would love it so much more if random people on the internet didn’t send me lyrics to try and prove that rose wasn’t in love with pearl!”

because they’ve done that. a lot.

but here’s a quote from the person behind all the beautiful piano music in that song:

“the song was focused on pearl’s emotions, and i compose and perform all of pearl’s piano parts.” — aivi tran

“aivi’s piano is the soul of pearl.” — rebecca sugar

each of the characters have an instrument to represent their ways of thinking, emotions, and who they are. pearl’s instrument is the piano, so it’s very clear that this song is limited to her perspective only.

aivi mentions that there’s also strings in this song to symbolize rose’s lingering presence. yet johnston mentions pearl’s loneliness.

rose’s love was with her all along, but she doesn’t realize it.

this is not the same as a flashback, like what we saw in now we’re only falling apart. that story included things rose said, and we got to witness the things they objectively did. but pearl wasn’t even aware of how deeply rose was falling in love with her at the time, and that’s why sapphire and steven had to point it out.

in this scene, she’s alone. none of her friends, such as sapphire or amethyst, can tell her that she’s simply feeling insecure and confused after rose’s death. they can’t say, she was the love of your life or you swept her off her feet.

considering that rose lived with pearl until the day she died, pearl ended up playing a major role in raising steven, and none of the crystal gems say anything about rose not loving pearl as much (they’ve really only said the opposite), this song is what i call ridiculously heartbreaking, because it is so untrue yet understandable that pearl feels like this.

she said to connie in full disclosure that she didn’t understand human relationships. this particular situation was even more complicated, and it ended without closure.

it’s still early grief for gem years, so this song is about pearl beginning to reflect on everything and attempt to seek closure herself.

oh, and i have to add that there were supposed to be some flashbacks. they shortened the scene, but here’s what ben levine and matt burnett planned on the written outline:

“we see younger greg and pearl at odds, circa we need to talk, we see them both sad but ignoring each other, presumably after losing rose, we see greg handing a young steven over to pearl.” — matt burnett & ben levine

this is so interesting to me, because these are the only objective memories that pearl has. if there was a memory of rose clearly stating she loved someone else more than she loved pearl, choosing them, this would have definitely been included in her memories.

but it’s not. in fact, her memories almost say the opposite of what she thinks happened because of her grief, pain, and lack of closure.

if rose loved someone else more than pearl, pearl and greg would not have been at odds. this implies that he was confused and insecure about the situation, too. keep in mind that gem relationships are very different from human relationships. gems don’t label their relationships, let alone fit into the norms. they didn’t understand human relationships, while greg didn’t understand gem relationships. he also wanted his relationships to be about acceptance, escape from stress, & more lighthearted things. rose felt comfort in this, all while she was becoming withdrawn and didn’t want to think about herself. pearl is the polar opposite of greg: where his flaw is being too laidback sometimes, pearl is the type to be overprotective.

it’s funny, because sugar said this about rose:

“the thing that she really lacks is balance, any ability to temper her extremes. this is part of her character throughout her forms: she’s always very extreme.” — rebecca sugar

so, rose felt comfort from both of them, two extreme opposites. but since she struggled to balance her own extremes, it was difficult for her to really notice what was going on as well as understand & communicate how she felt within those last few years. she also thought they were both better than her. constantly not feeling like she deserved them and running away from herself was confusing on top of the clashing of a gem connection and a human connection. saying, “and we fought like it was all some silly game,” sounds like pearl is realizing there was a lack of communication.

“it’s not always easy to understand rose’s choices.” — pearl, bismuth

also, “after all those years, i never thought i’d lose,” not only says she was in a relationship with rose, but “losing” is her referring to rose’s death.

it’s actually a very ironic lyric. she means “lose” as in, losing rose when she passed away.

she doesn’t realize this, but the end of the episode has her realizing that she and greg are both grieving, and the situation is not about rose loving someone more. he didn’t win: they both lost rose. at least now, they’re bonded by their grief and love for steven.

in the flashbacks that weren’t added to the episode, greg handing a young steven to pearl suggests that they were both with rose up until the very end. rose probably wanted them both in the room during the birth—and at the time of her death.

which contradicts everything that pearl believes about rose loving someone else more. she quite literally needed pearl to be by her side up until the very end. of course it’s a memory she’d block out, too. any attempt of closure from rose would be ineffective. where would she even start? the trauma of watching her die would be all pearl thinks about, too. her memory of rose actually dying goes deeper than the memories of the war and the fake shattering, to the point that we don’t even see it. we just see pearl crying after finding out about rose’s pregnancy, only mentioning that rose will die.

here’s a quote from the storyboard artist:

“for pearl’s song it’s over, isn’t it, the scene is about pearl accepting a loss. as the series has progressed, she’s learned that she isn’t always right, and that there are things about herself that she has to reevaluate. this all comes to a sort of climax in this scene where she accepts and admits out loud that her relationship with rose was never as deep and complete as she wanted it to be or told herself it was. this is where she’s left at the end of the scene, feeling lost and out of place.” — joe johnston

as i’ve said before, i will be talking about both of you right after this, and it will really clarify the purpose of the episode.

johnston says, accepting a loss. many people think this song is about a love triangle, but this phrase really confirms that it’s about grief.

pearl is missing rose. she’s confused about the reasons behind her death, and since it was related to greg, she’s insecure and wary of him. she needs to reflect on this loss, and she does just that in it’s over, isn’t it.

another interesting thing is johnston saying that she’s realizing she isn’t always right and she must reevaluate things. pearl reevaluating the relationship and realizing she isn’t right about rose loving her. no, it’s the opposite! since the first episode up until mr. greg, it’s obvious that she has always thought rose loved someone else more.

she’s realizing her relationship with rose is not as deep and complete as she wanted it to be, not because of a belief that rose loved her more than she truly did, but because of the opposite, as she’s felt like rose didn’t love her enough since before her death. she’s realizing that she’s told herself things that weren’t true, hence the lyrics:

“you won, and she chose you, and she loved you, and she’s gone. it’s over, isn’t it, why can’t i move on?”

she’s explaining the story as she’s always perceived it, but she ends it with why can’t i move on because there’s something missing. there is a lack of closure.

anyway. johnston’s quote is interesting, because it’s easy to look at it and think, “oh, she believed that she had a loving relationship with rose but she’s accepting that she isn’t always right and rose didn’t really love her that much!”

based on everything we know about pearl’s character, that’s obviously not the case. it’s more so, “oh, she believed rose didn’t love her enough and she chose someone else, but as she’s reflecting on the story, she’s realizing that there are missing pieces. she didn’t really have the closure she thought she did, the communication she needed with rose, all the answers.”

this is where she’s left at the end of the scene, feeling lost and out of place.

as the episode and the show as a whole goes on, she is continuously reminded by everyone around her that rose did love her.

[pippin-katz]

He Likes You

I was just thinking about this line and how meaningful it is, because it truly is.

Hunith has literally known Arthur for a couple days, but she can already read him incredibly well. Not only does she deduce that he cares about Merlin, she specifically says he likes him.

What’s the difference? Why does that matter?

Think about what you imagine someone behaves like when they like something or someone. They’re usually pretty happy, smiling, and they say good things about it. When it comes to typical behavior, it’s easy to tell when someone likes something.

Merlin likes doing magic, and he shows it when he can:

Think about Arthur though. He doesn’t seem to like anything when you use those behaviors as the evidence. The viewer knows it’s just Arthur’s personality, but from a complete outside perspective, he doesn’t appear to like anything.

He doesn't truly smile that much. He makes fun of everyone he's close to, sometimes even going too far with Merlin in particular.

This is how most people would expect him to act if he likes someone:

But he doesn't act like that on a regular basis. He rarely ever actually smiles like that, and especially not around people.

When he smiles normally, there's an undertone of cockiness or superiority that comes with being the prince and having to behave a certain way in front of others. It's not quite genuine. (The first episode is the perfect example of that.)

Or it's not even really a smile. He's not frowning, and you can tell by his eyes that it's a positive expression, but he's not showing a full smile to indicate that he's really happy.

OR he's got his "public face" on; it's sort of blank, but it changes slightly depending on the context. It's a guarded/doubtful/slightly annoyed look, but it's not a full frown that implies a bad mood. He uses it when he's in court with Uther, when he's bickering with Merlin, and when he's thinking. It's sort of his resting expression.

Uther does the same thing, where he's not really smiling, but you can tell it's a positive expression.

The thing is, you don't need to like someone in order to care about them. Plenty of people care about the wellbeing of people that they don't actually like.

Perfect example: Merlin and Gwen wanting to help Uther despite both having justifiable reasons to want him dead.

So liking someone isn't the same as caring about someone, cool, but what's the big deal with Hunith's line about Arthur? He obviously cares and likes Merlin, why does this matter?

Hunith doesn’t witness any behavior from Arthur to indicate that he likes Merlin, other than helping out his village. But:

This is an absolutely true statement. Merlin may be in denial that Arthur would actually like him, but he’s not wrong at all. Arthur earlier in this very episode voiced his desire to help anyone regardless of where they live. He helps people throughout the show in ways that don’t benefit him: Mordred as a kid; the woman in the tavern who was being harassed; Guinevere when Elyan was captured; the old woman about to be burned at the stake.

Hunith, however, can see through all of that.

What do you do when you like someone?

You care for their well-being

You think of them fondly

You enjoy their company

You want them to be happy

Arthur likes Merlin. He thinks of him as a close friend. He wants to make him happy, and to keep him safe. He wants him around. And Hunith figures this out from a couple days of observing them.

My mind starts to run around, because I wonder what Hunith saw in Arthur during the short period she spent with him that told her that he liked Merlin. His father didn't understand why Arthur cared about Merlin even when he saved his life twice.

It makes me so curious of what Hunith was thinking. You know what they say about mothers always knowing.

[the-littlest-kojin]

The Journal of Shio Shinju: "The Rite of Succession" (Dawntrail, Journal III)

Spoilers, up through MSQ "The Rite of Succession"

The Dawnservant has two crowns.

Before anything else is noted in this journal, that must be - for I feel it will inform the future.

It has been a turbulent time since alighting upon the docks of Tuliyollal. Truly, this city is a beautiful seaside gem, and I can see why Wuk Lamat was singing its praises so effusively.

Since arriving, I have five happenings of note to document - and I profess myself unsure what of them is the most important, and so shall document them all here in the order in which they occurred.

- First: Wuk Lamat professes her trustworthiness - proclaiming to have never broken her word. If I am to support her claim to the throne, I will need to do what I can to educate her that deception - of any stripe - makes her untrustworthy.

I do not expect that I will succeed, but nothing is to be lost from the effort.

- Second: I have learned much and more about the history of Tuliyollal - a young nation, as the age of nations is reckoned, being founded personally by Gulool Ja Ja himself. I will not recount the full history lesson I received, but I shall note a few points from the lesson I found salient, specifically, to wit:

The act that was considered the beginning of the founding of the nation was a truce, in a war between Xbr'aal and Mamool Ja. I find this noteworthy when combined with the fact that the Dawnservant has explicitly permitted and encouraged the use of foreign allies in his Rite of Succession, showing that he fosters peace in his successor.

Additionally, the Tural Vidraal Valigarmanda - "The Skyruin" - is considered in Sharlayan to be potentially mythological, but here in Tural, it is not only documented historical fact from within the lifespan of many people, but is in fact on the flag of the nation of Tuliyollal itself. This shows that the peoples of Sharlayan, to put it politely, need to start listening to more foreign sources in their information-gathering.

- Third: I learned that the Mamool Ja I had previously encountered in the Wanderer's Palace, Molaa Ja Ja, was the leader of a group known as the Silverscales - and was of a category known as Blessed Siblings. It is most unusual to see such a level of variation in one species that some have one head and some two, but it is apparently a not-uncommon - although still unusual - phenomenon with the Mamool Ja.

- Which leads me to the fourth point: I have met the other claimants. I have not yet had a chance to build an impression of them all yet, but none of them seem to entirely understand the point that I can see that Gulool Ja Ja seems to be making.

Zoraal Ja, the First Promise, is described by Erenville as a warmonger, and the depth and scale of his ambition and appetite seem like that of an ocean abyss - he is the one that I have been previously told "cannot be allowed to rule". What little impression he gave seems to be someone who play-acts the part of a ruler's son, as opposed to somebody who connects with his people.

Koana, the Second Promise, apparently spent some time being educated at the Studium - he seems to be keeping himself mostly to himself, and is an innovator by inclination. I have no particular issue with innovation, but I do not know enough of Koana to pass any kind of judgment.

When I was a young child, I would spend my time swimming alongside ships belonging to the Confederacy in the Ruby Sea. There were some sailors who always wanted to pick a fight with me, full of brash noise and bravado, and seeing them always makes my fingers itch.

Bakool Ja Ja, the only claimant not a child of Gulool Ja Ja, makes my fingers itch. He does not seem to have any policy or particular drive, which makes me wonder - why is he here? He has obviously gone through quite concerted effort to be here, so I am forced to question why.

The structure of the Rite is one of explicitly following in Gulool Ja Ja's footsteps, re-enacting each of his great Feats that led to the formation of his nation. Clearly, he intends for the claimants to learn the same lessons and necessities that he himself did springing from said acts in the first case. However, as it stands, I expect that none of the four claimants realise this, and I do not know enough to say if any of them will learn it.

- Fifth, and finally, when I entered the throne room to meet Gulool Ja Ja for the first time, he was having a spar with Estinien. The force of the blows being thrown around was far greater than most people would have considered a spar, but I know my fellow Azure Dragoon well - he was not particularly exerting himself to be doing so.

However, neither was the Dawnservant.

Estinien directed his attention towards me, and I hope he challenges me to a spar at some point - I have not had a chance to flex my muscles in a leisurely combat in quite some time.

When all of this is said and done, I cannot help but return to my original observation - the Dawnservant does not have merely one crown. Is he hoping that one ruler may sidestep some issue that he himself ran into, being of the "Blessed Siblings", or is there an additional, eleventh-hour catch to the Rite that is yet more layers upon layers of subtextual lesson?

On more mundane matters, the tacos that were briefly ordered (before being brutally killed in a bit of posturing that made my fingers itch) smelled delightful, and I cannot wait to try them to see how they taste, and the inn room that Erenville arranged for me is quite luxurious. The open wall to the waves is relaxing - is this standard for inn rooms here in Tuliyollal, or is Erenville merely familiar enough with me to be able to predict my desires?

Things to ponder on the morrow, I feel.

[nightswatchdisbandmentera]

Randomly struck me how Arya's first trip down to the Winterfell crypts seems to parallel Jon's recurrent crypt dreams on one particular motif - a dead king rising.

Robb took them all the way down to the end, past Grandfather and Brandon and Lyanna, to show them their own tombs. Sansa kept looking at the stubby little candle, anxious that it might go out. Old Nan had told her there were spiders down here, and rats as big as dogs. Robb smiled when she said that. “There are worse things than spiders and rats,” he whispered. “This is where the dead walk.” That was when they heard the sound, low and deep and shivery. Baby Bran had clutched at Arya’s hand. When the spirit stepped out of the open tomb, pale white and moaning for blood, Sansa ran shrieking for the stairs, and Bran wrapped himself around Robb’s leg, sobbing. Arya stood her ground and gave the spirit a punch. It was only Jon, covered with flour. “You stupid,” she told him, “you scared the baby,” but Jon and Robb just laughed and laughed, and pretty soon Bran and Arya were laughing too.

Arya IV, AGOT

Last night he had dreamt the Winterfell dream again. He was wandering the empty castle, searching for his father, descending into the crypts. Only this time the dream had gone further than before. In the dark he’d heard the scrape of stone on stone. When he turned he saw that the vaults were opening, one after the other. As the dead kings came stumbling from their cold black graves, Jon had woken in pitch-dark, his heart hammering. Even when Ghost leapt up on the bed to nuzzle at his face, he could not shake his deep sense of terror. He dared not go back to sleep. Instead he had climbed the Wall and walked, restless, until he saw the light of the dawn off to the east. It was only a dream. I am a brother of the Night’s Watch now, not a frightened boy.

Jon VIII, ASOS

In Jon's dream, he's a witness to the Stark kings rising to confront him. But in Arya's POV, Jon is the dead rising from a tomb to confront them.

It's just funny because a common theme in Jon's crypt dreams is how he doesn't belong. He voices the rejection to himself - he's not a Stark, he has no place.

Jon shook his head. “No one. The castle is always empty.” He had never told anyone of the dream, and he did not understand why he was telling Sam now, yet somehow it felt good to talk of it. “Even the ravens are gone from the rookery, and the stables are full of bones. That always scares me. I start to run then, throwing open doors, climbing the tower three steps at a time, screaming for someone, for anyone. And then I find myself in front of the door to the crypts. It’s black inside, and I can see the steps spiraling down. Somehow I know I have to go down there, but I don’t want to. I’m afraid of what might be waiting for me. The old Kings of Winter are down there, sitting on their thrones with stone wolves at their feet and iron swords across their laps, but it’s not them I’m afraid of. I scream that I’m not a Stark, that this isn’t my place, but it’s no good, I have to go anyway, so I start down, feeling the walls as I descend, with no torch to light the way. It gets darker and darker, until I want to scream.” He stopped, frowning, embarrassed. “That’s when I always wake.” His skin cold and clammy, shivering in the darkness of his cell. Ghost would leap up beside him, his warmth as comforting as daybreak. He would go back to sleep with his face pressed into the direwolf’s shaggy white fur. “Do you dream of Horn Hill?” Jon asked.

Jon IV, AGOT

He dreamt he was back in Winterfell, limping past the stone kings on their thrones. Their grey granite eyes turned to follow him as he passed, and their grey granite fingers tightened on the hilts of the rusted swords upon their laps. You are no Stark, he could hear them mutter, in heavy granite voices. There is no place for you here. Go away. He walked deeper into the darkness. “Father?” he called. “Bran? Rickon?” No one answered. A chill wind was blowing on his neck. “Uncle?” he called. “Uncle Benjen? Father? Please, Father, help me.” Up above he heard drums. They are feasting in the Great Hall, but I am not welcome there. I am no Stark, and this is not my place. His crutch slipped and he fell to his knees. The crypts were growing darker. A light has gone out somewhere. “Ygritte?” he whispered. “Forgive me. Please.” But it was only a direwolf, grey and ghastly, spotted with blood, his golden eyes shining sadly through the dark …

Jon VIII, ASOS

Yet Arya's POV shows that Jon does have a place. Not only that, but he becomes a resident of the crypts as a ghost. There's the implication too that he spends more time in there than all his siblings as he waits for them to arrive. Then when they do, he rises out of his own tomb like the dead Kings of Winter rise out of theirs in his dreams.

Bran's POV also says that only Starks belong in the crypts.

After that, oddly, Rickon decided he liked the Walders. They never played lord of the crossing again, but they played other games—monsters and maidens, rats and cats, come-into-my-castle, all sorts of things. With Rickon by their side, the Walders plundered the kitchens for pies and honeycombs, raced round the walls, tossed bones to the pups in the kennels, and trained with wooden swords under Ser Rodrik’s sharp eye. Rickon even showed them the deep vaults under the earth where the stonemason was carving father’s tomb. “You had no right!” Bran screamed at his brother when he heard. “That was our place, a Stark place!” But Rickon never cared.

Bran I, ACOK

It seems that Snow or Targaryen, bastard or trueborn, it doesn't actually matter. At the end of the day, Jon will always be one of them: a Stark son, and a true King of Winter.

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #46] Forgetting the Friendship

warnings: progress!! seven mv inspo!! fluffy goodness <33 a treat! (1) reference to 'ur so mean ting ting ball :('

notes: i love these chapters so much waaa, it makes me excited to write for bd again <3 also these chapters are copied straight from ao3 and the space after italicised words before full stops drives me insaaane but I am too lazy to fix it lol soz

wc: 9K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Jeongguk sitting across from you at a dining table is not a foreign concept.

Nor is his smile, and the solace it brings; or his inquisitive eyes, and how they're able to make even the most mundane of activities enthralling.

In fact, sitting with Jeongguk in a dark, smokey barbecue place just off the central restaurant district downtown feels entirely comfortable.

Yet it's perhaps the most troubling thing of all: dating Jeongguk is easy .

Easy, like the first sip of an expensive vodka. Easy, like the laughter that comes whenever you're with him. Easy, like you knew it would be. Easy, like it always is.

The restaurant is familiar to you both - somewhere you've frequented for countless late-night dinners. It's a standard joint, nothing technical nor fancy about it. Booth seats, coal pits in the middle of the table, extractor fan above head.

The pipe work is exposed, but it's more for practicality than aesthetics, even if it does lend itself perfectly to the industrial vibe the place has going on. Lights are dim, neons on the walls, overheads shining down on the barbecues only. It's the perfect place to go incognito for a little. Perfect place to test the waters of what a date could be like with Jeongguk. Perfect, because you can hide, if you want.

Hide what you are. Hide how you feel. Hide from your friends, onlookers, judgement. Hide, as if you need to. As if anyone gives a shit. As if you aren't just a couple of besties just sharing some food.

No one understands.

No one realises they're witnessing a cosmic union that'll change the world as we know it. Celestial in the way your energies merge, a once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon is happening with every awkward glance. Every shy smile. Every bite of his lip, and flip of his lip ring. Every sparkle of your glitter beneath the hazy lights.

God, Jeongguk thinks, hands clammy. So fuckin' pretty.

You know exactly why he's chosen this place. 'Best meat in the entire city,' you've whined a few times, mouth full of your favourite cut. Moksal, the neck cut, is your go-to. Jeongguk always prefers samgyeopsal, and actually thinks there's a place across the road that is superior - but you like moksal, and you like the moksal here.

So here is where you are.

When you realise this—as he's asking the waiter for a cut of samgyeopsal and two cuts of moksal—your heart hurts. If it could pout, it would.

You don't realise that you're kind of pouting too, until Jeongguk asks, "Is that alright? Did you want something else? I can change the order."

"No," you insist, a smile settling on your lips, just shy of a giggle.

Attentive as always, you find his drive to keep you happy sweet. Charming, in fact. You know that if he had it his way, he'd have ordered three cuts of samgyeopsal straight off the bat, then maybe ordered moksal for round two.

But he wants this to be easy.

It is easy.

It's not like you had expected a date with Jeongguk to be a particular hardship. Nothing like that at all.

You've known him for long enough now, and experienced enough of life with him, to know what something like this could be like. Hell, you've done this exact thing with him on an easy two dozen occasions. More, maybe.

The ease, the comfortability, the absence of complication; It's all so easy .

You've never known love to be easy.

Never known it without conflict. You don't even know if this is love—but you know it has the potential to be.

It's too soon for such heavy words. The dates barely even started. A bottle of soju and a bottle of beer are brought to your table, and Jeongguk cracks the cap of the beer while you unscrew the soju. Work in tandem. Get the drinks flowing, 'cause neither of you are truly confident enough for this.

Have both tripped over your words already. Both took a little too long to think of responses, in an attempt to make them perfect. Make this perfect. Be perfect.

This is your first fatal error, for perfection has never been what either of you have liked about one another.

It's everything else—flaws, and all— that you like.

He'd proven that as soon as he had shown up at your door that evening.

"I like your hair," he had told you earlier, a little bashful in your apartment hallway, hands stuffed into his trouser pockets.

Half up, it isn't particularly special today.

Danbi had spritzed it with a little glitter hairspray while you'd been doing your makeup, and twisted some plaits back, leaving your grown-out fringe to frame your face. It is a little fancier than your normal half-up go-to, but it's not exactly ground-breaking.

'Smart casual' had been the attire set by Jeongguk after you'd asked for a dress code, which is honestly the worst thing he could have possibly said.

You're good at doing casual. Great at doing cocktail. Mildly okay at doing smart. The combination of smart and casual? Yeah, not so great. Too many things to factor in.

"Like, do I go business-sexy?" you'd considered out loud, spending far too much time whining when you should have been getting ready. "Yanno? Like a hot secretary? Is that what he means?"

"I think he just means a little dressy," Danbi had talked some sense into you. Really didn't understand all the fuss. "Not full Disco Ball, but enough to still turn heads."

Glancing over to the sparkly dress hanging on the back of your door—the same one that Jeongguk had sort of gifted to you over the weekend, but also not spoken to you about at all—you decide that maybe that will be a little too much.

Thankfully, Jeongguk did send you a mirror selfie twenty minutes before he was set to leave.

Black slacks, a blazer, and a graphic white tee beneath it. Smart casual. Captioned it with, 'will you be able to resist me, or should I get changed?'

You have a last minute panic and change to dress accordingly; tight black mini skirt, large white tee hanging loosely off your frame. A tour shirt from one of your favourite bands, it's been through the wash enough times to look almost vintage, even if it's just from a few years ago. Tucking it in a little at the front, you allow for the material to billow and hide the body Jeongguk seems to love so much. Perhaps it's better. Less tempting.

With a smile, you reply, 'no & no.'

Layering on some jewellery, you do a few last minute checks, and tug on your Converse. Totally not because you think he might wear his. Not at all. Decide against a jacket. You know Jeongguk's got one.

If you're gonna date, then you're gonna do the datey things - and that includes stealing his jacket before the end of the night.

Definitely has nothing to do with the fact you know Jiyeong did the same thing. You're definitely not trying to overwrite the memories of her. Not at all. That would be childish and pathetic and silly and exactly what you're doing.

You've had long enough of reducing yourself and making yourself invisible for the sake of men.

Jeongguk has never made you do that. Not once.

You're confident that Jeongguk won't ever make you reduce yourself. In fact, he's the one who frowns whenever you're without glitter. If anything, he seems to want to amplify you. It's a strange feeling. One you're not quite used to, yet.

But it's one that you had welcomed as he turned up at your door. Had dimples digging into his cheeks the second he caught your gaze, desperately fighting a smile.

A million thoughts raced through his head: how gorgeous you always look in the flickering light of your apartment hallway; how happy he is to be at your door, and how it felt like he'd be sick the entire subway ride there; how he'd planned on stopping for flowers on the way, but had been too eager to see you instead.

None of these thoughts escaped his lips.

Instead, the greeting had been awkward . Bashful. Both of you unsure of this new etiquette, even though being together feels like the most natural thing in the world.

He made note of your lack of jacket. Didn't insist you get one. Knew straight off the bat that he'd be draping his blazer over your shoulders by the end of the night. Wrapping you up as his own. Sticking a label on you that distinctly marks you as his.

He also noticed your shoes. Smiled. Looked down at his own pair - that he definitely didn't wear because he thought you might... not at all...

Part of you felt a little cheated as you headed down towards the subway ( where was the hand holding he'd spoken about? ) but you were also thankful he wasn't going in all guns blazing. Were nervous. Unsteady.

Now that you think about it, perhaps a hand would have been useful to hold.

But in a place that is familiar to you both, the nerves settle.

"So, tell me about yourself," you flirt, as if this really is a first date by the standards of normal people. "Pets? Siblings? Hobbies?"

Jeongguk smiles, easing into how natural this all feels. Feels a little odd, too. You know all this. Still, he nods. Cosplays as a stranger to you 'cause maybe he is a bit too acquainted for some guy who isn't even your boyfriend.

"One brother, no pets. Want a dog, but I'm waiting until I have more free time, yanno?"

"More free time?" you enquire, as if you don't know his schedule like the back of your own damn hand.

You're probably more well-versed in Jeongguk's work rota than your own by this point. Know which days to end up in Dionysus with no purpose other than to have his eyes on you the entire night. Know that he gyms at ass o'clock in the morning because of his work schedule. Know that he'll cancel that particular schedule if it gives him the excuse to stay in bed with you. Bonus point if he gets his cardio done in other ways.

You still might not be a gym girlie, but your core strength has never been better. You're getting pretty good at yoga, too. The Cobra is a particular favourite. Cow, too. And fish pose. In fact, now you think about it, you're getting real good at yoga. Danbi would be proud.

"More free time," he nods, before pausing to take the utensils from the waiter, insisting he's fine to grill his own meat. It's no different to usual—Jeongguk often happily cooks his own meat—but something about it this time around gets you smiling. A little flustered. You do love it when a man takes charge (mainly so you can fight with him), but it's entirely different now.

He just seems... capable. Dependable.

"Work enough hours at a part-time job for it to be full-time," he begins to explain. "But I'm also in the process of setting up my own business. Restaurant business."

Absolutely none of this is new to you, and yet you find yourself asking questions. So many questions. Rehash old conversations, and go off on new ones. Have Jeongguk smiling and enthusing, talking about his dreams like they're coming to life in little vapours dancing around his head. You can picture it all; his successes, his meticulously planned interior, the wind-down after a busy night, sitting with him around his favourite table and eating for yourselves.

He rambles on about staff uniforms, and whether or not he wants shirts or just aprons when he stops himself. Smiles, Says, "Sorry, I'm like the worst date. Just talking about myself non-stop."

Date . Jeongguk is your date. Fuck . You could squeal. You won't—but you could .

Shaking your head, you disagree. "I like hearing about your plans. It's fun. Your eyes get so sparkly whenever you talk about your dreams."

"Shut up," he cringes, a little embarrassed by himself, and also aware that you're totally wrong.

His eyes don't sparkle 'cause he's talking about his dreams.

His eyes sparkle cause he's looking at you as he speaks about them.

Nonethewiser, you raise your shot glass. It's filled to the brim with soju, hastily poured by him, and grin, "to your future."

He raises his glass, and knocks it against yours, tiny droplets of alcohol trickling over the lip of the glass and onto your fingers, so minimal it's almost unnoticeable. "To the future."

The , not his . A collective. A future he hopes you'll share together.

"Anyways," he says as he swallows down the soju and chases it with a little beer. "Tell me about you. Gimmie your life story, Disco Ball."

The smile on his face as he calls you that is sweet. Kind. His dark eyes twinkle in the dimly lit restaurant, a little smoke from the coals beneath the barbecue obscuring him for a brief moment.

Your ability to talk with Jeongguk about anything and everything for hours upon end is nothing new.

As you laugh and joke your way through dinner, there really is nothing remarkably hard about spending time with him. You never thought there would be.

Part of it worries you. Concerns you that 'nothing remarkably hard' could lead to you being simply 'nothing remarkable' altogether.

See, comfortable has been used upwards of a thousand times to describe your relationship. Now is no exception to that.

You talk with him like an old friend, not a new lover - and while this is fine, and safe, and necessary for a successful foundation, you fear that such security will prevent you from building something truly great.

Hours are lost in conversation.

The tables around you come and go. Fill up with new punters, then filter out. At one point, a server spends a little too long looking at your table. Jeongguk notices. Says, "I think we gotta order more or fuck off."

It's been three hours.

And so Jeongguk orders budae-jjigae to keep you going. Knows you won't eat all that much of it, but also knows he can demolish the stew off if needs be. It's cheaper than more meat, and easier to pretend like you're taking your time to eat it. Gives you more time.

Soju bottles empty out rapidly. New bottles are brought over every now and again, the table never running entirely dry. More meat is eventually ordered, because Jeongguk is Jeongguk, and the mere scent of the table next to you grilling up meat gets him hungry again.

Again, he grills for you for the most part, but when you take the tongs from him to turn the meat and give him a little break, he almost crumbles .

His gaze is centred on you. Flicks down your arm, to your wrist. Your hands. Watches as they work. Says nothing, just slowly wets his lips as you continue talking, then presses them together. His lip ring does the thing . Posture reclines a little into his chair.

"What?" you ask as you notice the way he's not paying attention to what you're saying at all. "You good?"

He just shrugs. Absent-mindedly toys with his lip ring a little. Is contemplative as he says, "Why are we putting ourselves through this, B?"

And while you could act dumb, and pretend like you don't know what he means, the relief that washes over is too damn obvious. Your shoulders fucking ease. He knows what you look like at ease, and now that you've sunk into it, he can't believe he didn't realise you were so tense before.

"Oh," he laughs, now, realising that you've been deliberating the exact same thing that's been running through his head. "Am I that much of a terrible date?"

"Date?" you tease. "This is a date?"

"Oh, fuck off," he laughs. "Course it's a date. I wore a blazer."

"You looked hot," you tell him, 'cause you've had a few too many shots to be making good decisions. Tucked into the base of the seating booth to protect it from the smoke, Jeongguk's in just a t-shirt now.

Arms out. Tattoos on display. Muscles tensing just right.

It's a miracle you've been able to form coherent sentences at all this evening.

Truthfully, you've not been focusing on them.

Can't help but let your mind jump back into its memories. Fractures of heated moments in his shower keep coming to mind. The grip you'd have on his arms as you came undone. Memories so potent they almost make you whine.

So yeah, you've been avoiding looking at his arms.

"Should I put it back on?" He raises a brow.

"No," you hum. Bit down on your lip. Sparkle underneath the lights of the restaurant. The taking of Jeongguk's breath is accidental. The way you shrug, and playfully raise your eyebrows as you recline into your chair, is not. "You're hot now, too."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were flirting with me, Byeol."

"Am I not?"

"Are you?"

He's so pedantic you could scream. Instead, you giggle. Shrug as you lean forward to slide your chopsticks beneath one of the fermented perilla leaves. Say, "Give me a hand?"

Of all the things Jeongguk wants to give you right now, a hand is definitely one of them. Maybe not in the way you're requesting, but fuck . He's insatiable whenever you're like this. Impatient .

Yet, he does as he's asked. Splits the leaves for you. Wonders how out of pocket a marriage proposal would be, even if he is just joking.

Instead, he asks, "If we go somewhere else after this, can it count as date two?"

"No."

"Byeol," he whines.

"No," you laugh, knowing exactly why he's asking. "You can't get me into bed that easily. Can't speed up the process. You gotta earn it."

He has earned it. You know it, he knows it. Everyone who looks your way knows it. Your want for him is written all over your face, cosmic eyes shooting up like stars every time you glance his way.

"The process is dumb," he pouts.

"The process is necessary," you insist, though you really are doubting it now.

"The process has already been done," he assures you, though you're not sure his maths is adding up. This is still just date one of five.

Thing is, Jeongguk sees eating together as more of a daily routine thing. It's not special enough - but it's what he said he'd do in the midst of a fuck that felt like a whole lot more, so he had to see it through. Had to make sure your expectations were met. Didn't want you to be disappointed if he didn't follow through.

"We've basically been ' together ' for fuckin' ages, now," he continues, lips a hell of a lot looser now that he's got soju swarming through his veins. Cares not to hide how he views things between you. "The rules are redundant 'cause we already know each other like the back of our hands."

"So?" You toy, enjoying this slightly desperate side to Jeongguk. You normally only get to see it in bed. Nice to witness it fully clothed, even if it does make you wanna disregard the rules you're so desperately trying to enforce. "Think about how good it will be when you finally get me how you want me."

"It'll just be embarrassing," he assures you, thankful that the chatter around you drowns out the conversation you're having. "I'll finish, in like, 2 seconds."

"No different to usual, then."

"Fuck you."

"No," you smirk. "That's the whole issue, remember? We're not allowed to."

"Swear you get off on my pain," he grumbles, topping up both of your glasses with the dregs of the beer left in the bottle. Pours you both water, too. Definitely hasn't had enough, so he doubts you have, either. "Is this what our relationship is gonna look like, huh? You torturing me for the fun of it?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself," you tease him with a playful smile. "I'm not your girlfriend."

He just shrugs again. "Yet."

Your lips purse. Smile hides. Eyes sparkle.

Yet , you think.

As if he can read your mind, he just nods slowly. Yet .

No time is given to dwell on such a small word, for Jeongguk gets already on his feet and heads over to pay. Doesn't even give you the option of offering to go halves, because it is a date, and he does want to tick all the boxes. Make you happy.

And he does. You are.

The restaurant you're in is a few floors up from the street. A skincare shop is on the bottom floor and a kitchen on the next one up. The staircase is themed, adjacent to the restaurant. Has a vibe about it that just begs to be photographed - which is obviously an intentional, marketing ploy, given by the sheer amount of mirrors available on the descent. All branded with a small tag in the corner, you know if you searched it on insta, heaps of selfies would pop up.

Grabbing his blazer from the booth, Jeongguk ushers you towards the staircase, Drapes his blazer over your shoulders, even if you aren't complaining about the cold yet. He knows you will.

Even though he's not been wearing it, there's a warmth about his blazer. His aftershave is stuck in the fibres. Divine. Fresh. Dreamy.

"Wait," you hum as you get to the biggest mirror of the staircase. It's full length. Dimly lit, with neons in the background to give it a vibe that you know girls on the gram will just eat up.

Jeongguk pulls you to stand in front of him ever so slightly. Takes your phone from your hand and slides the screen across to auto-unlock the camera.

Pictures taken together are a rarity, normally always with your other friends. Never just you two. Not since the photobooth in Busan.

He thinks about it often, mainly 'cause every time he sits at his computer desk, he can see them poking out from behind another poster. He keeps them up, a little obscured so that Jimin never notices them, but so he can always feel their presence.

"Should document it," he narrates the choices he's making. "Evidence of our little dating experiment."

It's not what he wants to say. Not what he's thinking. If he were being honest, he'd say 'evidence to show our grandchildren.'

"You're such a romantic," you tease with a roll of your eyes, but naturally find yourself leaning into a pose.

Though Jeongguk once told Yoongi he wouldn't want his relationships plastered all over instagram, he's positioning himself in the perfect soft launch pose. Hangs his arm over your shoulder, tattoos on full display now that his blazer is draped over your shoulders. Covers his face with the phone, and lets you take centre stage.

He thinks he'd quite like to end up on your feed. Not just your story.

The refracted light of a disco ball in the corner of the staircase glitters down on you both, dappling you in pockets of luminance.

"Well, what do you want me to say?" He replies with a smile, tone matching yours as your fingers reach up to link with his. He takes another photo. Switches the camera to record. Looks down towards you. Says, "That I wanna preserve this? That I want to keep this moment forever? That I want something to show future generations?"

None-the-wiser of your rolling camera, you shrug. Smile, looking at you both in the mirror. Look up to him.

"Are you this forward with all your first dates?"

"Only the ones I know I have a future with."

"Oh?" You question, turning your body to face his. The hand that had been slung over your shoulder comes to rub tenderly up and down your back. "You're pretty confident."

He nods, smile soft as his dark eyes just drink you in. There's a giddy feeling in his stomach, and it's not just the alcohol. "Should I not be?"

The familiarity of Jeongguk is only exacerbated as his nose nudges up against yours.

It's tender, and tepid, and he knows better than to be so affectionate with another person in such a public space, but he doesn't care. Felt distant from you when he was across the table; like the supply to his oxygen was being stifled, but now he can breathe again.

You don't resist as he steals a kiss. It's small. Tepid. A punctuation mark for a question that really shouldn't make you feel as head over heels as it does.

"I never said that," you smile, his nose resting against yours as he locks your phone. Will let you find that video some other time. Wishes he was still recording when you say, "I think it's something worth preserving. Think I'll wanna look back on it too."

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm," you mumble into his lips, sinking into another forbidden kiss. "For when we're old and grey and I'm reminiscing over my former lovers."

You're deliberately downplaying how you feel; how you know that there'll never be another lover after him.

If Jeongguk chooses not to see this through, then that's it.

At the ripe old age of twenty-seven, you've determined that no man nor woman could ever compare to him.

His particular cluster of cells is just the right one for you; the right combination of stardust.

If you ever find yourself trapped between sheets with someone else, they'd be nothing more than a misplaced life experience. Not one for the history books. Names wouldn't be remembered, the feeling long-forgotten by the time you're reminiscing.

But not Jeongguk. Never Jeongguk.

It's terrifying to look at another human and know the course of your life is forever changed because of them.

But it's comforting—so, so comforting—when replies, "Former? B, if I'm not covered in your fuckin' glitter on my death bed then I'll... I don't know," he laughs. "Haunt you? I don't fuckin' know. Just take fuckin' former outta your mouth when you talk about us."

"You're so lucky we're in public right now," you sigh a little dreamily.

"Why's that?"

"You're, like, one right sentence away from me getting to my knees."

"Don't say that," Jeongguk groans with a smile. Shakes his head. His nose strokes against yours like it so often does, even closer than before. In fact, he's so close that you can feel his lips as he husks, "Lets get outta here, B."

Shaking your head, you smile. "Ask nicely."

Jeongguk pulls away, and tugs on your hand to have him following you. "You gotta stop being so..."

"So?"

"So you ," he laughs, as you head down the stairs. "Swear you live to wind me up."

"I do," you assure him. "Is it working?"

Leading you down the stairs and onto the bustling city street, Jeongguk likes how much of a menace you insist on being.

Drunk revellers line the pavements, so his grip is tight. He's keeping you close. Smiling with every innocuous statement said by you, then glaring at every fucker who looks your way. You never notice. Are too busy knocking into his chest with every step, glitter no doubt embedding itself in the cotton of his shirt.

He won't complain. Will never complain.

Too late for the subway, and with his car parked up still at his place, a taxi is your only solution to get back to your place. A little too far from town, the walk would take just over an hour, and honestly, neither of you fancy it.

Issue is, getting a taxi at this time of night is hellish, too.

"Just stay at mine," Jeongguk insists as you wait by the taxi rank. Thinks it's a no-brainer. He and Jimin live in the city centre. It's the perfect compromise. "We've done it a hundred times over. Are perfectly capable of—"

"No we're not," you laugh. "All I have to do is look at you in the right way and you get hard."

"So don't look at me," he laughs right back, not even caring to protest it, pulling you in for a hug to stop you from jittering around. It's still cold, May yet to greet you both the bloom of a new season. The blossoms of spring wilted away at the start of the month, but it's still not summer quite yet.

"Or maybe you shouldn't look at me ."

"How can I not?" He whines into your hair, pressing a kiss down on the top of your head. "You're so pretty tonight. So pretty all the time."

Pretty, he thinks when you look at him like that.

Pretty, when you do eventually start walking home with him, and the lights of noraebang entryways shinedown on you, colourful and contrasting your silvery shine. Pretty when you giggle. Pretty when he tugs on your hand and pulls you into a sidestreet for a moment or two whenever your teasing gets a little too much.

He'll always say something like, "If I can't kiss you in the next three minutes, I'll die," or, "Is that what you want? My death on your hands?"

And you'll always reply with something like, "You're lucky I don't fancy going to jail tonight."

Sometimes you don't reply at all. Sometimes, you just kiss him. No games.

Just him, and you, and the physical manifestation of the way you feel about him.

The walk back to his place is made far longer than it needs to be. Detours are taken, and wrong turns are deliberately walked down just to give you both more time together. More, more, more is all you ever seem to want from one another.

And yet as you get back to his place, Jeongguk is the one to start arranging the bedding that separates you. Gets all the pillows he can find in his apartment, and begins to make a little nest beside his bed. Keeps the good pillows on his bed, 'cause that's where you'll be, and he wants you comfy.

A boundary was set by you, so as much as he can whine or complain, he'll always respect it.

In fact, if you were to turn around now and say 'fuck it', he'd be the one to reinforce it. Knows you've both had a little too much to drink. Doesn't want you doing anything you'll regret.

"C'mon," he says fondly, coming to stand in front of you at the end of his bed. Cups your jaw and presses a kiss to your forehead. "Let's get washed up, B. Teeth, then bed."

The way Jeongguk feels the need to always take care of you is sweet. Tender. Careful. He fears doing the wrong thing so often, that his default is to be overwhelmingly good.

Comfort is found in this routine of yours.

Domestic, it's sort of devastating when you realise how well-acquainted you are with one another's habits.

He finishes his teeth brushing just before you, 'cause he knows you always like to be the last to finish for some weird, competitive reason.

Knows you sleep with your hair up, cause you hate the way it feels around your neck, so gently slides out the pin keeping half of it up. Lets it tumble down as you come to the end of your brushing, but scoops it back before you go to rid your mouth of toothpaste. Says nothing, still, as he ties your hair up with the thin band around his wrist.

Teeth clean, you turn to face him. Let his body press against yours. Encourage it, in fact, then give no resistance as he drags you to the left of the sink, nor when he hooks his arm beneath your ass and lifts you to perch on the counter.

"So pretty," he whispers, tucking back some loose strands he missed. Just you and him, Jimin's already asleep in the room next door. The apartment is silent save for the thudding of your beating hearts, that carry the weight of an orchestra on their base notes. You'll be a symphony, one day. "You know that right? Prettiest thing I've ever seen. Sparkliest, too."

If Jeongguk were to sit down and think about it, he could probably write a fuckin' sonnet.

But he's drunk, and he's sleepy, and you're just so pretty.

Forehead resting against yours, there's no desire for him to take this further. No need for him to elevate this. All he wants— truly —is for you to know he means it. Not just on a superficial level. On a deeply human, richly complex level.

You make him—his heart —feel pretty, too.

And so even though his nose nudges against yours, lips trembling, he doesn't kiss you. Won't sully his words with overwhelming physical passion. Instead, he lifts you. Carries you to his room. Sets you down on his bed without a single word.

Crazy, how a touch so tender can send you reeling; wanting. His silence is maddening.

It scares you. Worries you that maybe he isn't saying anything because anything he does say will upset you.

It prevails as you turn away from one another to get changed. He strips to his boxers, and you adopt a shirt of his that's been tossed over the back of his desk chair. No different to usual.

But as you settle into bed, and listen to him do the same, it's his voice that breaks the barrier. Bulldozes the wall you had begun to put up around yourself in an act of self-preservation.

"What do you even like about me, B?"

Barely a whisper, it's almost like he's scared of being heard; as if whatever answer you give will devastate him.

So fixated on everything he likes about you, he's beginning to realise that he can't really work out why someone like you would ever go for someone like him.

He's unestablished. Unstable in his career. Has barely finished school. Has no money, or at least not enough to provide you with any of the good stuff in life. Not yet, at least. 

You had to spend an eternity listening to him whine about an ex that has proven herself to be pretty fuckin' awful. You live with the knowledge of all that he's done in pursuit of her. How desperate and pathetic he was.

The monsters that go bump in the night in Jeongguk's room live inside his head. They lie to him; tell him he's unworthy of the things he earned. Whether it be the business he's setting up, or the girl he's been fawning over for months, everything just appears a little out of grasp.

Like a donkey chasing a carrot, he runs and runs. Pursues his desires but can never reach them. He's asking for a lifeline, now. Is desperate.

"In what way?" you ask.

You'll give him a list as long as Jimin's Dionysus bar tab, if he wants. Can think of a million little things you adore—but you're scared, too. Vulnerability has never come easy to either of you.

It's a little ridiculous by now, how you both manage to let the devils on your shoulders worm their way into your ears and corrupt your brains. In the dark of night, it's easier for them to creep in. Less light to reflect upon the glitter that would typically keep them at bay.

"You know what way."

It's true. You do. Of course, you do.

Talk is cheap, you always think. Actions speak louder than words, or so has been the case for Jeon Jeongguk since the moment you met him - but it's words he needs now. Words that will soothe his brain. Words that will wrap around his insecurities.

Insecurities that are exacerbated by the fact you don't want to share a bed with him anymore, and the way your touch has become something that's withheld until he proves himself.

He doesn't even realise the way his mind is chalking up this new rearrangement. Doesn't understand that the slightly sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach is anxiety.

Change is never easy, but he knows it's often good. Even with this in mind, Jeongguk feels pretty awful. Maybe it's just the alcohol wearing thin. Maybe he just needs to sleep.

He never wanted things to change. Wanted things to stay exactly how they were. He told you this. All he wanted was the security that you wanted him, too—but now there are rules, and boxes to tick, and a change in a dynamic that he quite frankly thought was perfect before.

With these changes comes a physical distance, of course, yet it's manifesting itself emotionally in a way that you really should have predicted.

He's clingy . Always has been. Always keeps you close.

And now that he can't, he needs something to fill the space left by your prohibited touch.

A similar pang of discomfort washes over you; matches his dis-ease.

"So many things," you start, because it's hard to pick just one.

He stays silent. Knows you're working through your thoughts. Feels embarrassed to be asking for such attention, but he just needs something, anything , to remedy his brain.

The distance between you seems to grow in the silence, much like it did in your apartment when he showed up with his last birds.

Together, you're like an elastic band that just stretches and stretches and—

"Can I come down there, Gguk?"

You're stretching, still. The silence is empty around you as he tries to find the right response.

He gives up. Begs, "Please."

And so— ping .

You snap right back.

Pulling his bedding to the floor, you build an even bigger nest. Snuggle up beside him. Give no resistance, as he pulls you closer. Gets you beneath the same duvet. Shirtless, Jeongguk remains warm to the touch, and your hands remain gentle on his skin.

Both of you take a second to indulge in the closeness. Your leg hooks over his hip, his hand stroking up the back of your thigh as you do so, but it's not taken beyond the simplicity of what it is.

This isn't about sex.

It's about intimacy; about his heart, and how he foolishly felt like glitter had been replaced with shards of glass.

Remedied, Jeongguk can breathe again.

"I like your work ethic," you eventually whisper, brushing back a few strands of his hair, the darkness of the room not obscuring your star boy entirely. He adjusts slightly. Strokes your hip. Nudges his nose up against yours—not for anything other than for the fact he can. Doesn't kiss you. Lets you talk. "You work so hard, Gguk. So hard."

He stays silent. Asked for compliments, but doesn't really know how to respond to them.

So you give him more. Slide your hand up his throat, until his ear rests between your thumb and index finger, nails softly scratching his scalp.

"I also like your hair," you admit, because you're touching it, and it comes to mind, and because you don't think you tell him enough.

"Wanna grow it again," he mumbles, ever critical of himself.

"If you want to, you should," you tell him. "But it always reminds me of when we met when it's like this. I like it both ways."

"Your memory is good," he sort of derails the conversation.

"I remember 'cause it's important," you tell him—then decide to put the carriage of whatever fuck this is back on course. "I remember 'cause you're important, Gguk."

"Even back then?"

"God, especially back then," you insist. "You were so kind. So kind. Kind when you didn't have to be. Barely knew me and yet you made me feel so safe."

"Anyone would have—"

"No," you firmly interject. "Not just anyone. I went to a lot of bars last spring and not a single barman was making sure their punters were getting water. Only you. You go above and beyond for people. It's admirable. I like that. I like how kind you are. God, Gguk, the list is endless."

"Endless?"

"Endless. I like so much about you. So much." And you're not sure if you should continue listing out things, because you fear saying a little too much. Worry that the true nature of your feelings is a little too much for the freshness of this new endeavour. "I just... you're the best person I know. Truly."

He takes a second to fully digest your words. Appreciates them. You. The way you're willing to meet him halfway, and stop him from going off the deep end.

"Will you stay down here?" He whispers against your lips. The delicacy of such a touch leaves you a little breathless, even if it's not his intention. "No funny business. Just wanna be with you, B."

If anything, the lack of Jeongguk's desire for anything physical only makes you want him more. It's bizarre to be in such a state of yearning for someone right in front of you.

It's not like you're particularly in the mood, or deprived, or anything like that - it's just the perfect example of why cultivating intimacy is such a disaster for you. Makes you realise why it's always so impossible to stay away from one another. Sex is never just sex. Not with Jeongguk.

Cut from the same cloth, it's a shared language; one that you only ever speak together.

Nodding, you say, "I'll stay."

Together, you curl into a position more suitable for sleep. He takes the position of the little spoon, 'cause facing one another is dangerous, and so is having his dick to your back. Neither of you are stupid.

At least, you like to pretend you're not.

In the night, you twist and turn regardless. Change positions half a dozen times. Wake up with his arm wrapped over your waist, your body tucked up against his. He's the big spoon now.

"Ignore it," he grumbles into your hair when he feels you begin to stir.

"Impossible," you sleepily hum into the pillows, needing absolutely no confirmation of what he's talking about. Can feel him digging into your back. "Too big."

"Oh yeah?" he smirks, and presses a kiss to the back of your hair. Tightens his grip around, to say a silent morning.

"Mhmm," you confirm. "You can add it to the list of things I like about you."

"Fuck off," he scolds, but you can hear the smile in his tone.

"In fact, put it at the top of the list."

"The top?!" He protests—yet he's holding you ever tighter, still.

"Mmm, maybe just behind the free drinks at Dionysus."

"Don't remind me of work," he whines.

"You in tonight?"

"Mhmm," he regretfully mumbles. "Got a meeting with the bank first, though. Busy day."

"Want me to get going?" you ask, reaching up to grab your phone from the bedside table. Checking the time, you ignore all the texts from Danbi wondering how it went. Will just tell her later. Truthfully, you're not even sure how it went. "It's just gone nine. Want me to get outta your hair?"

"Meeting isn't until one," he tells you, but does add, "I've got some things I need to sort out beforehand."

"Say no more," you offer, stretching yourself out and away from his grasp. He whines and he moans, because he's Jeongguk, and of course he does. You tease him, and tell him not to miss you too much, because you're you, and of course you do.

But all Jeongguk does in your absence is miss you.

Spends most of his time in his bank meeting ignoring the clerk. Will read the paperwork later. Is still frustrated with the situation at hand, still yet to find a solution to his problem. Still yet to tell you about, 'cause he doesn't realise a problem shared is a problem halved. Will keep the bank issue tucked away. Nothing for you to worry about.

When work rolls by, he's checking his phone every few minutes. Earns himself some not-so-subtle side-eyes from Yeonjun. Loses 50k in a bet with him over how long he could go without checking his phone. Jeongguk is adamant he hit the fifteen-minute mark. Yeonjun was timing it. Was eight.

As the week progresses, your schedules aren't aligning. Alongside work, you're prepping Tae's next art show, and becoming painfully aware of how unsustainable it is—especially because the new curator is just as shit as you were warned they would be.

You're not just burning the candle at both ends; it's been dumped in a wax burner. Wick intact, it's the wax that's melting away.

Something's gotta give, and regretfully, it kinda feels like Jeongguk has been the sacrifice.

Stress is becoming well acquainted with you both.

He tries filling his empty space with the gym. It always used to work. Jiyeong still ignores him whenever he turns up, and it suits him just fine, but she has started at least looking ambivalent. The daggers he used to get never cut him particularly deep, but he didn't like the scratches on his skin for merely existing.

Still, his head is full of you—what you're doing, how work is, how he wishes you'd show up at the end of his sessions like you used to do, coffee in hand. Doesn't get why going on dates now means that you don't just hang out like normal.

So he hits personal bests, and has no one to tell when he leaves, shirt sticking to his back, eyes dark. There's a near-permanent ridge between his brows, testosterone up but his drive to do anything about it way down.

He gets coffee by himself, and smiles when the girl at the counter flirts with him like she always, but internally spends the entire interaction telling her to get fucked. She's a nice girl. Jeongguk's sure she's really nice, in fact, but he's so frustrated with everything that he can't even take pleasure from the acknowledgement that he's desired.

Doesn't want it.

Just wants you.

But you're busy, and so is he, and the one evening he thought you might be free to hang out, you had pole with Danbi, so he even finds himself resenting that. It's at that point he knows he's going mad, because what lover of the female anatomy would ever hate that?

He sends you pictures from his bed, and you send him pictures right back, just as innocent as they are illicit. Just shoulders. Lips. Rumpled duvets, that are only really disturbed on one side. Allusions to that fact you'd rather be with one another. Declarations of your yearning without anything tangible.

It's just under a week until Yoongi and Seoyeon's big day, and he worries that you guys will be in an awkward state of limbo. Doesn't want to have to face all your friends and act all normal while you're still in this clumsy stage.

There's a very real fear within Jeongguk that the first date just wasn't... right . That you've had time to think, and know that he isn't suited to you. That his insecurities or neediness have somehow made him unattractive, to you. That you're biding your time until you can figure out a way to let him gently.

And yet come Saturday—

"Thought I was gonna die," Jeongguk desperately husks into your lips, hips pressed to your tummy, your back to your apartment door. He's not even taken his shoes off yet, and for some reason, you're stripping him of his jacket. "Swear my brain doesn't work without you."

"That's, like—" His kisses never let you get more than a word or two out. "—probably not—" God, he's insatiable. "—healthy, babe."

And then he's groaning. Telling you not to call him that. Kissing you even harder just to get his desire out of his system—but it never fuckin' eases. Never does with you.

Just like you'll never stop calling him by the names that make him weak. You like him like this. Like his neediness. He never needs to worry. You know exactly who he is. None of this comes as a surprise.

For now, though, you've gotta reel it in. You've a date to have. One planned by you, this time. One that'll strip you back to who you are—no external pressure to perform, no big need to get it right.

Just you, and him, and little paint (but, sadly, a lot less boobs).

"C'mon," you smile, pulling away, realising maybe you shouldn't have taken his jacket off him (even if it did mean you could get your hands up his shirt in the midst of your makeout session). "Let's go."

The hold that Jeongguk has on your hand as you lead him up the stairs of your apartment block rooftop is loose. Barely there. Just enough. A whisper of a touch; everything that needs to be said.

It tightens in the small enclosure just in front of the door that leads to your roof.

Just you and him, the winding flight of stairs beneath you is empty. Mid-afternoon, it won't be long until the sun sets.

You love this time of year for that very purpose. The setting sun is always far brighter, far bolder, far keener to welcome in your favourite time of day. The longer the stars are in the sky, the more at home you feel.

Jeongguk's always been a bit of a night owl, too. It's fated, perhaps, that he should find himself in a permanent state of yearning for the brightest star he's ever known. It's always the middle of the night when he's with you. Always his favourite time of the day.

Could be seven in the morning, but as long as you're beside him? Favourite time. Could be midday sunshine, but if you're there? Favourite time . Could be a time like right now, mid-afternoon, not a star in the sky, and yet? Favourite time.

You're midnight.

Not in a way that invokes fear or suspicion, like the midnight streets of a busy city, but in a way that invites mystery and intrigue. You're midnight in the same way that Dionysus is; fun, a little ridiculous, and always a good time. Midnight, in how you shine. Sparkle. Midnight, in the way that Jeongguk thinks you must be a dream.

It's the only way to explain how he's stumbled across another human so perfectly out of key. So perfect for him. Immaculate in how you radiate everything Jeongguk desires; flawless in the way you align with him. Body, mind, spirit. All of the cliche things, with none of the cliche.

Though still gentle with his touch, Jeongguk becomes a little more domineering than he had been. Takes control of the position, knowing that the plans beyond the weighty steel door are all yours.

It's not like he minds giving up control. Gladly does it. Just doesn't want you thinking that he takes any of this for granted. Doesn't want you to think he's just going along with what you want, because it's easy. Wants to prove to you that all of his choices right now are deliberate.

That he's intentional. That he's choosing you , not just the path of least resistance.

He pulls you back, and your body naturally turns to face his, like a tide rolling in or the sun setting beyond it. There's silence as you're dragged towards Jeongguk, with only shy giggles to accent your movements when he gets your back pressed to the door.

"No funny business," you remind him as his nose nudges against yours. "We haven't even started date number two. It's the rules, Gguk."

He simply shrugs. Nudges your nose one last time before sinking his lips down into yours—and the way you accept him so willingly would suggest you really don't care all too much about that damn rule.

"Rules are made to be broken," he assures you, lips brushing yours with every mumbled word.

"I'm gonna think you only care about the sex," you warn him softly.

You won't think that at all. You've known him for long enough now to understand how he works; why he doesn't sleep around much. Sex, for Jeongguk, is an extension of himself; how he feels.

So yeah, while Jeongguk might chase his own pleasure during sex, it's never the goal. Not really. It's a nice by-product, sure, but it's not the reason he fucks.

Just like kissing is a declaration for you, the way he gives himself up is a declaration for him. A way to speak his words without having to say anything at all.

He shakes his head against you, lips still pressing down into yours. Groans a little as he pulls away. Rests his forehead on yours, and says, "I fuck you because I care about you. Stupid."

"Calling me stupid isn't gonna make me believe you," you tease him, rolling away from his grasp. Quite like it when he calls you dumb names like that. Makes everything feel so much simpler, like a childhood romance, or something dumb like that. Lowers the stakes. Still, you're pedantic, and he knows this. You'll be bratty, always. "Was working in your favour until you said that. Shame."

Jeongguk just rolls his eyes. Smirks. Relents. Isn't holding your hand anymore and misses it, but knows you need to unlock the door. Says, "You didn't let me finish."

"Finish?" you laugh, twisting the door handle and pushing the door open. Jeongguk's hand comes to press against the metal above your head, helping with the weight of the door.

"Mhmm," he says as natural light pours into the small enclosure, following you as you step out onto the rooftop. "Was gonna say stupid hot . You're stupid hot ."

"You are so full of shit."

Maybe he is bullshitting you. Maybe he's the stupid one. Maybe none of it matters, because the way his hands come to settle on your waist as he follows you in the open space makes you feel all silly inside. Goofy. Stupid .

Oh, how you hate it when he's right.

And when Jeongguk sees what you've got set up on the rooftop for the pair of you—paint, and canvases, and the promise of something sweet blossoming beneath clementine skies—he has to stop himself from blurting out something equally stupid, like 'you're so perfect, ' or, 'I'm so in love with you.'

Instead, he just smiles. Presses a kiss to the curve of your neck. Husks, "We both know how this ends, B."

"Different this time," you tell him, walking in tandem with him over the blanket and cushions that he recognises from your apartment. "Last time you were in denial about how much you like boobs."

"True."

"And so now I don't need to convince you they're the greatest thing on planet Earth."

"What if I just look?" he chances, flopping down onto the surprisingly comfortable surface. "Promise I won't touch?"

"Nope."

"You're so mean, Disco Ball."

"You love it," you tease, coming to lounge by him.

He doesn't say it. Doesn't need to. You both know his little laugh, and the silence that follows means one thing and one thing only.

Yeah, he thinks to himself. Suppose I do.

[yuurei20]

Cater Info Compilation part 8: Childhood

There are occasional hints throughout the game that, while Cater is from the Shaftlands, his family moved often when he was a child (he is the only main cast member in Heartslabyul who is not from the Queendom of Roses).

We get the full story during Halloween, along with the reason why Cater is so attached to Magicam.

At first we see Cater dealing with NRC’s newfound Magicam fame. While experiencing “a major bump in followers”, Cater explains, “my notifications are blowing up hard with replies and DMs from old IRL acquaintances. And when I say ‘old’ I mean, like, elementary school old."

One particular acquaintance seems especially persistent, even going so far as to call Cater directly, though he refuses to answer.

While discussing the situation Lilia receives a phone call from Sebek and answers immediately, interrupting the conversation, to Cater’s surprise.

(While helping Lilia handle Malleus’ meltdown, triggered by the Magicam Monsters, Cater explains “It’s not as if these people hate Malleus. Which isn’t to say that they like him, either. It’s ultimately about chasing a trend. Just like my old acquaintances.” The trend they’re chasing being Cater himself.)

Cater’s plan to distract the Magicam Monsters works and he witnesses Lilia reminding Malleus “We may not be related by blood, but we ARE family”.

Cater silently reflects, “Lilia’s developed cherished relationships while living in the same place his whole life. There’s no way he could ever understand how helpless I feel.”

Cater is interrupted by a phone call from Trey that he answers immediately.

The vignette ends with Cater saying “Like always, we’ll all probably go our separate ways in four years.”, but it seems that four years is actually a long time to be in the same location, for Cater.

Cater explains that his dad works for a bank and his entire family would relocate whenever he was transferred to a new location, approximately once every two years.

Cater explains, “But for all the people I met, one thing never changed. I would always leave, and they would always stay. That’s why I always tried to be on good terms with everyone, rather than forge strong bonds with a chosen few. Like a circus performer who has a grand old time with people from around the world, and then packs up and moves on. In that sense, Magicam’s been seriously great because I can get messages from people I knew at school three years ago. I can have all the casual connections I can handle. And that’s just my speed, right?”

Kalim insists that distance is no reason to keep people at arm’s length and offers Cater the use of his flying carpet to visit his Magicam friends, while Lilia observes, “In deciding not to get too close to any one person, you may be the wisest one here, Cater.”

(During Wish Upon a Star we learn that Trey and Cater were roommates for the two years and we get a cryptic line from Trey: “You’d think he’d be open to sharing one of his actual wishes by now. Then again he is…just not with me.”)

(There is a fan theory that this ties back into Cater’s decision to not get too close to anyone as he is closer to Trey than he has ever been to anyone else and wants a buffer zone of untold secrets so as not to get any closer before they graduate and go their separate ways.)

[camp-counselor-david]

I was wondering what bugged me about the season 4 Cameron Campbell redemption arc, and I think it finally clicked for me. (And yeah it's 95% David related)

Tw for talks of abuse under the read more.

(Spoiler warning for s3 & 4!)

My relationship (from a character standpoint) with Mr. Campbell is very iffy. He's meant for comedic relief, as is his treatment of David within the series.

Side note- I know that the wolf in "The Forest" being a metaphor for Campbell's abuse of David isn't technically canon even if it's pretty widely accepted by now, so I'll be excluding that part in my analysis.

Mr. Campbell goes through a lot of changes within the series. He starts out as sort of a criminal mastermind type. Self-serving, a blatant scammer, and someone who is seen abusing David in particular many times in the show, physically and verbally. That's not even mentioning the scene in "Jasper Dies in the End," where he attempts to murder a young David for witnessing Jasper's near-death experience. Despite this, David looks up to him and idolizes who he is as a person.

Up until when things peak in season 3, where it's revealed to David that he's not only a terrible person, but he has attempted to frame him for the camp being a scam. Season 3 handles Campbell the best in my opinion, up until the ending of "Camp Corp" where it's decided that Cameron Campbell is more of an idiot than a mastermind, so his new punishment is staying at the camp under David's watch.

Season 4 is where it takes a turn for the worse. As per usual, David is on board with the idea of redeeming Mr. Campbell and places faith in him changing for the better. This didn't bug me until the episode with the escape room where the series begins to explore a different side of Campbell. There, it's revealed that despite how awful as a person he was, he secretly has some type of heart! He still had feelings for the woman he ghosted for 17 years to the point of never once seeing another person in all of that time. Not only does that feel impossible to believe, but given how he acts when he's coming back from the club in "Keep the Change," it feels a lot more like a retcon to me. You're telling me that someone as greedy as him would make such a responsible choice when it comes to any of his personal relationships? In 17 years? While regularly being under the influence of alcohol and other drugs throughout that time period?

It felt like a quick "See? Mr. Campbell isn't actually that bad of a person!" To which I feel is not the right angle to take with his character, at least not so quickly. I understand that characters can have nuance. They can have good traits and still be bad people, but these traits have to line up with what makes sense for the character, and from my perspective, it didn't.

They then change the approach with Campbell and start making him a lot more reasonable of a person in the way he talks. "Time Crapsules" ending with an admittedly nice message from him about change using the camp itself as a metaphor for his own character growth, which becomes apparent in the last prominent Campbell episode, "St. Campbell's Day."

This is the episode that urks me the most. Since the very beginning, David has had full faith in Mr. Campbell. He spent time making excuses for him and going out of his way to prove that change is really possible. But (spoilers, sorry!!) then this episode features the very first time that David stands up against Mr. Campbell. He sees the fake holiday that he's making for presumably self-serving reasons and decides that Campbell is showing his old patterns again-- because why else would he make up a holiday revolving around making money?

David ruins the holiday by stealing the holiday supplies and reporting him to the presses as a con artist. Then, the show reveals that David was overreacting, and this was really pushed by the campers rather than Campbell himself. They wanted to raise funds for the camp to get new things like the outhouse, and David feels bad. Afterward, there's a happy moment where David apologetically fixes everything with the help of Gwen and QM, which is admittedly very sweet, and Mr. Campbell forgives David for jumping the gun and assuming the worst.

While I don't hate this, it just rubs me the wrong way that the one time David stands up against Campbell, he's punished by the narrative. He apologizes to Mr. Campbell, a thing that Campbell never properly does for David, the one who actually deserves it.

This episode could have been a good opportunity for there to be some reflection on how David, who vouched ceaselessly for his redemption, might have some mixed feelings on his abuser. Exploring this side of things more would have made this a better episode and overall a better arc for me rather than "Silly David!! You've ruined the one good thing he tried to do!".

The concept of David wanting to be happy about the changes but finding that part of him guiltily thinks that Campbell doesn't deserve it is something I really wish they explored a lot more.

The tl;dr of this is that the Mr. Campbell redemption arc isn't a bad angle to shoot for! Some of it was handled decently, but the loose ends that we'll likely never see wrapped up leave a sour taste in my mouth. A few kind moments don't make up for around 14 years of abuse, and that's not even mentioning the death of Jasper as a consequence of Campbell's actions.

I love this show a lot, and this is by no means hateful towards it, I just feel a little put off by how they handle the Campbell-David stuff.

[safficranger]

Fake Scenarios In My Head #18

(Can be read as sequel to FS#13)

Their case has hit a wall; a neighbor of the perpetrator provided a last-minute alibi for him. Alex is convinced the neighbor is lying, but she can't prove it or understand why he would lie for someone he barely knows. For hours, she sits in her office with Olivia, papers strewn across the little coffee table, couch, and desk, combing through every piece of evidence, searching for the key to cracking the case.

Alex's assistant knocks on the open office door to get her attention. He wears a huge smile and hands her a small package with Alex's name neatly written on it in delicate handwriting. "The delivery guy just dropped this off for you."

She gets up from her desk, thankful to stretch her legs for a bit, and curiously takes the package from him. "Thanks, Andrew."

"Any progress with the witness?"

"No, not yet," Alex sighs. "Any other calls for me?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle."

"What would I do without you?"

"Drown in paperwork, probably," Andrew chuckles. "Can I do anything else? Maybe get you a coffee?"

"That would be amazing. I could really use a break," Olivia interjects.

"Coming right up."

Olivia stands up, stretching her muscles and groaning in pain. "I'm too old for this," she jokes and Alex just laughs in response.

"So... what have you got there, Counselor? I assume it's not related to our case," Olivia asks, pointing to the package.

"I'm afraid this won't help," Alex replies, grinning as she obviously recognizes the handwriting.

"So, you don't want to open it?"

"Aren't you curious, Detective?" Alex laughs.

"To be honest, I am. Kind of comes with the job, you know," Olivia shrugs. "And I could really use some distraction here."

Alex nods in understanding. She unwraps the package, revealing an elegant black box with a brand name embossed in shiny silver. She runs her fingers over the smooth surface, tracing the letters with a barely hidden smile before carefully opening the lid. The inside is lined with black velvet, and a single beautiful flower blossom sits within, the brightly colored petals contrasting the velvet beautifully.

Olivia furrows her brows. "Flowers?"

"A Flower Detective. Singular," Alex quips. "A Strelitzia blossom to be exact."

"Stre... ok yeah... Still... a pretty unusual way to deliver a flower," Olivia remarks.

Alex shakes her head, smiling. "If it were only the flower, I would agree." With that, she lifts the flower, and Olivia spots a beautiful silver necklace nestled inside the velvet bed. The necklace is a cascade of silver spheres, gradually increasing and then decreasing in size, a delicate chain threaded through them to create a fluid cascading effect.

"Wow," she exclaims. "That's beautiful, Alex."

"It really is," Alex says quietly, her voice suddenly full of emotion as her eyes wander from the necklace back to the flower in her hand. Her fingers delicately trace the intricate design of the necklace, and she can’t help but smile at the thoughtfulness behind the gift.

"Who sent it, Alex? Is there a card? Does the flower mean anything to you?" Olivia's curiosity is piqued, and she leans in closer, eager for details.

"Yes, the flower means something to me." She smiles lovingly, slowly twirling the flower between her fingers. "No need for a card. I know who sent it."

"Oh... okay," Olivia says, drawing out the words to give Alex the opportunity to elaborate, but she stays silent.

"So... do you want me to help you put it on?"

"Not now. I'll save it for a special occasion."

"Got something particular in mind? A hot date, maybe?" Olivia teases.

Alex places the flower back in the box and closes the lid with a grin. "Maybe..."

Olivia leans forward, clearly not satisfied with the vague answer. "Alex, come on. Give me something to work with. Who's the mystery person? Is it someone I know?"

Alex chuckles, shaking her head. “Wouldn't you like to know.”

“Do they by any chance drive a Mercedes?”

"Nice try, Detective," Alex replies, her tone light but firm, a small smile on her lips. “Can we please drop the subject now?” She leans back, crossing her arms, clearly not planning to give anything away. There's a playful glint in her eyes, showing she’s more amused than annoyed by Olivia’s questioning.

Olivia sighs dramatically, throwing her hands up in mock defeat. "Fine, keep your secrets. But don't think for a second I'm done with this.”

Before Alex can respond, Andrew returns, balancing a tray with three steaming cups of coffee. "Here you go, ladies. Freshly brewed and just what you need."

"Thanks, Andrew," Alex says, gratefully accepting her cup.

"You're a lifesaver," Olivia adds, taking a sip and closing her eyes in appreciation. "Perfect timing, too. I was just about to resort to interrogation tactics."

Andrew gives Alex a questioning look, but she just waves it off.

“Anything else I can do for you?” he asks.

“No, we’re good for now, Andrew.”

As he leaves, Olivia gives Alex a knowing look. "This isn't over, Counselor. I'll be watching you."

Alex just laughs, raising her coffee cup in a mock toast. "To mysteries and the detectives who love them."

Olivia clinks her cup against Alex's, grinning. "I'll drink to that."

Thank you @hg-mills for inspiration

[thefirstknife]

To take a break from this week's awfulness, I wanted to tag in on Calus in LF. As you deftly laid out, it's perfect for his character & his relationships with the Witness & Caiatl. It shows him as vain & pathetic. But that's precisely why it fails *as a game villain*. He needs to be scary & powerful for our final battle, but it was just sad to me. A sad little man, unloved & desperate. Compared to Sav, Oryx etc it's a big emotional difference. What do you think from the angle of *game* villain?

Oh that's an interesting question, no worries!

Honestly, it really depends on what type of a villain people expect or prefer. I can see why some would prefer a villain to not be this way or at least if they didn't know all the details. I personally really love villains like this; villains who have put themselves into a path that led them to being just sad, abandoned, lonely and desperate people, despite being given options and a way out, multiple times. But their refusal to accept change is what ultimately led them to their fate.

Calus fits this really well! There's definitely a tragedy to him and his life as a whole. This doesn't really bring the same sort of joy over his defeat as it would be to defeat someone who is villainous in a different way so I can understand why people would feel off for killing him. But personally I believe that Lightfall's whole theme fits this with Calus. He was a sad little man, who rejected everything to overcome his problems and grief and instead chose the simpler path, unlike us; we worked through our grief and took the more difficult way but ultimately more rewarding. It's the primary dichotomy between the way of Light and the way of Darkness. The Witness is also important to consider here because the Witness looks for these types of people in particular for manipulation. A sad little man like Calus was overjoyed to meet the Witness, ages ago. The Witness played with that aspect of him and promised him everything he wanted; most of all, to be important and to be seen.

And in truth, he simply wasn't. He was being used, as all who side with the Witness are. With the whole setup of loss at the end of Lightfall, yeah; his defeat didn't feel as triumphant as it would've been if he'd been different. I believe that was intended. It definitely gave me more of a sense of relief that we put him to rest, rather than triumph. The Witness does that to people. You're kinda glad that you're putting those irreversibly manipulated by it out of their misery. It's also reflected with Caiatl who was basically just tired of it all and just wanted to know if it's done.

I'd even say that Oryx was a similarly tragic figure, though not exactly in the same way. Oryx was also manipulated and he struggled with his doubts all of his life. And when he finally came to attack us, he was literally just a father struck with grief over losing his child. He was more of an imminent threat to the solar system of course, so there was more triumph in defeating him. His story was also much more obscure overall (given how D1 did lore). To a lot of people, Oryx was just a scary monster that arrived to kill everyone. But once you know the background (and especially now with the full scope of it and the role of the Witness in shaping the Hive into who they are), I believe that he is also one of those villains that are ultimately just tragic people. I know Oryx is like that to me.

So yeah, I think this is a really interesting perspective to consider. I still think that this does work for villains, it's just not something that everyone equally enjoys. An expectation for villains is that we should feel good for ending them. But Destiny in general has given us many questions about that over the years; Uldren is a perfect example. He was also painted as a villain, but even back then (and especially now with Crow post-Haunted), I genuinely felt like crap for what we did to him. And that was kinda baked into Forsaken as well; our revenge rampage was never meant to be heroic. There was no real glory or justice in it.

This is definitely something that not everyone will perceive the same way and that not everyone will equally enjoy, especially when considering what the expectations are going into it.

[astrxlfinale]

HC; Nsfw bundle.

Exactly as it says. After toiling about with his character, I've found a solid idea of some favorable preferences. (Which this list can always grow.)

+ Being absolute grabby with him, and having that be shared is at the top of his list. He lives off of that passionate energy and loves to express that with his partner. Depending on how they feel about it, torn clothes can be part of the equation, there's just a natural hunger to mold their forms with the hunger channeled in his grip, to make them feel as every bit of savory as they rightfully are. + A sense of 'challenge' also goes a particularly long way. Not like anything related to fighting, but never be afraid to banter with him, to make those particular notes like if something his partner done really got him weak in the knees, being studied in such a fashion really knows how to melt the inside of his mind. In another way I guess it can be say he's a fan of wild sides. + In that same vein he allow loves to be ruthless once finding out what they enjoy. Taking his adventure loving trait, taking full advantage of letting his partner ride a road of indulge is a prime definition of bliss for Caelus. Exploration should be adventurous, it should be fun, so gradually stripping those understandable barriers of either shyness or bashfulness away could help with his go-getting nature.

+ Is actually pretty good/quick learner at the art of oral. Coin it to his appetite, to his attention to detail, but he loves never shying from getting on his knees for his partners. Being able to peek up towards them and watch that growing anticipation is a chef kiss moment for him. Not to mention, just being squished between their thighs or having his face sat on is just a personal wonderland he wants to keep for himself. + Shove him exactly where you want him. He loves being guided by his partner's impatience, in his mind, it really translate into that sensation of being wanted and that they can supply exactly what they need for each other. Bonus points if you have a particularly rough grip on his hair, either intentionally or just from the rush of pleasure, his lifestyle of combat has secretly developed him enjoying a certain threshold of pain as well.

+ To no one's surprise, why yes he is most certainly an ass man. (Who WOULD be surprised at this point??)

+ Sensitive regions for him would primarily be his chest. Not to say it'd be an automatic trigger, but getting him in the most prior, and with that being the resting spot for his Stellaron makes it a very reactive region. In fact it's pretty normal to see his chest come to host a golden glow, the same goes for his eyes which was likely noticed in a lot of different situations.

+ The more he's come to witness them, the more he in general come to have an ever growing appreciation for seeing his partners wear thigh highs. Seeing them contained enough is already one thing, but adding to that would his eager touches and squeezes of hand only adds to that eagerness of wanting to peel them off all the same. + Aftercare in Caelus's preferred language is bathing together. This can also just lead to bath side make outs depending on the given energy of that particular ship. For as much as he adores what they put each other through, there's a certain magic in assisting to wash all that exhaustion away with a peaceful sort of whimsy. Not to mention, seeing water bless the mortal form is one of instances that gives him the 'wow eyes' in kind.

+ Due to his traveling nature, he's own considerably more open to public spaces that have plenty of privacy for his shared moments as well. If hm and his partner can successfully get away with it? WELL--

[rarepears]

So… I can’t send images in Anon!

But here’s a vague outline of what happens before the reset!

There are a few minor background changes that don’t impact the plot.

Himbo finally gets to be a nanny that gets to go on cool missions!

He also gets a few demons trying to bridenap him but he thinks their trying to steal his kids. ( They’re actually his clients kids but he loves them like his own)

Our Himbo tries out cottagecore the first year he ends up in PIDW. He makes a bro out of a carnivorous plant spirit with weak acids but great sucking power. Really good sucking power.

And our Fratbro gives a LOT of nutrients. So Fratbro gets to live safely in the forest now! He lives here after the reset as well.

He doesn’t know it but cultivation with spirits, this spirit in particular help with people who start cultivating late in life.

After our Himbo fully sets up something horrible happens! People are chasing down a cosplaying child!

So our Himbo with the help of his bro! (Who’s gotten gains these past months!) save the kid!

And the people chasing the kid down disappear? He doesn’t know what happened but he forgot about them after plant bro said he wanted to ‘share the bounty’ and ‘celebrate their engagement’ and that ‘he’d be a good consort’

He still doesn’t known this language but those sounded like good things!

Can’t forget that most Isekai nowadays tend to be harems! It’s just that those systems thought he was going to have a harem of girls.

The child is a demon, male, who originally is cannon fodder but under the tutelage of our Himbo’s protagonist Halo gets many enlightenments and breakthroughs leading him to be a commander under LBH who eventually goes and meets the family.

He near immediately marries the Wife Himbo adopted but is stopped by Himbo(who now understands Chinese) who insists they need to get to know each other first.

Himbo believe the word for Father in Chinese means Uncle and by the time he realized it means Father he just goes along with it.

Himbo mentally adopts LBH and has already started planning the wedding.

“Kiddos! What’s a ‘dowry’?”

“It’s what you give the grooms family when they marry your daughter”

“Why? Don’t we like, give the two wedding gifts? Why give stuff to the fam?”

“To ensure they treat the daughter well and to show she has a powerful background so the other wives and family members won’t bully her”

“THeY’lL bULLy mY DAUghTher!?! OthER WIveS?!?”

And Himbo assumes LBH other wives are just family and the kissing is some cultural thing.

Even after the world resets and he knows the culture and like of ancient China he still does his own thing because

“We have to respect each other’s culture man. I dunno about you but I can be respectful.

After the reset our Himbo immediately tries to adopt LBH when he’s born.

Because LBH is part of the world he doesn’t get his memories back until the Abyss while Himbo just isn’t affected and is where he was standing with his full cultivation.

Himbo starts an overpowered family with dozens of children because he has come into peak dadness as a result.

Also. He tries to marry Tianlang Jung. He wants to be his baby’s dad! So they have to get married! He did it once with someone else so he can do it again right!?

A REVEAL! HALLO AUTHOR! 👋

Fratbro treating the kidnapping attempts like they are "capture the flag" games! Or American football; that works too.

And our Fratbro gives a LOT of nutrients. So Fratbro gets to live safely in the forest now!

LMAO what you are saying is that he pisses a lot on the trees. (Diluted) urine is great fertilizer. Golden shower play, anyone? With his first consort too LOL.

I love Fratbro's inane logic here; yes, please do chase down Tianlang Jun, trying to convince the man that they should get married so he can officially be Luo Binghe's dad! With Tianlang Jun continually saying no, Fratbro decides that he's just going to kidnap Tianlang Jun and force a marriage regardless.

Anyways, that's how he participates in another demonic custom without realizing it; yes he went and successfully pulled off a bridenapping.

[More in #a himbo fratboy in svsss au]