#had an idea ‘what if one with four +two’s powers had details of both of them’ which has prolly occurred before but like . two cakes and all

[orchurisarts]

lesbian posting

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝜗𝜚 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

Ah, kinks—something all humans have, especially those who read fanfics. I mean, who doesn’t love them? Whether it’s the soft, the spicy, or the downright unhinged, there’s always something that hits just right.

Let’s be real: scrolling through AO3, Tumblr, or Wattpad at 3 AM, looking for that one specific trope that scratches the brain itch?

Yeah, we’ve all been there.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

I mixed a bit of canon and my headcanons for Crowe and Sol in this one—yep, once again! This time, I kept it focused on just four kinks to keep it short and sweet.

Hope you enjoy reading!

[ 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ]

Starting, I’ve noticed that TKATB fans have their unique preferences when it comes to Sol or Crowe.

For example, fans who gravitate toward Sol tend to enjoy the idea of him being dominant—whether it’s being in control of him or just envisioning him taking charge. It’s that mix of power and intensity that gets people excited. You know who you are, you freaks!

On the other hand, fans of Crowe are drawn to his reliability, his deep understanding, and his caring nature. He’s willing to guide you through anything, offering both emotional support and strength. It’s comforting, isn’t it? And yes, I’m a freak too—I get it.

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

Naturally, I had to start with the man himself—Jericho, or Crowe, as he's known. Though the details are still unclear, he exudes a mysterious, almost savior-like presence. I WANNA KNOW SO BAD.

His style is effortlessly sharp, and his quiet confidence makes him instantly trustworthy. Reliable, steady, and composed, Crowe is the perfect support when life feels overwhelming. His charm is subtle, blending good looks with an alluring personality—irresistible, without ever being flashy. 

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Crowe as kinky?

At first glance, no. Not. To a stranger, he’s too put together, with not even the faintest hint of anything unconventional beneath the surface. But as you get to know him, that answer begins to shift. Slowly, subtly, he reveals a side of himself that hints at complexity—an edge just beneath his polished exterior. However, don’t expect anything extreme or overtly wild.

What he does reveal is never too much but always just enough to leave you captivated—and maybe, just maybe, a little curious.

✑ Vanilla (Soft Dom…) 

For Crowe preferences!!

He's the ultimate soft, warm partner. Like, you just know he's all about the quiet, comforting vibes. No crazy power dynamics or rough kinks—he's all about that steady, affectionate love. It's Vanilla, but in the best way possible, full of layers. He’s not rushing anything, just enjoying the little things, taking his time, and making sure you feel heard and cherished. 

When you're with him, it's all slow and gentle—he’s not here for intense extremes. His love is patient, thoughtful, and wrapped in warmth. Every touch, every word, is like a soft caress, just so deliberate and tender. 

And honestly? There's no need for anything crazy. Crowe's happy to explore your connection, build that trust, and just savor the passion that grows naturally between you two. It's the kind of love that builds and lingers long after. 

Now… Crowe might be a soft dom—nah he IS A SOFT DOM.

Crowe’s not the type to push you past your limits just for the thrill of it. He’s not into playing mind games or testing how far he can take things. No, Crowe’s power is the quiet kind, the kind that makes you feel safe without even having to try. He knows the real strength is in taking care of someone, not in forcing them into anything they’re not ready for.  

When you’re with him, it’s like he’s always tuned into you, always listening, always aware of exactly what you need. He’s the guy who doesn’t take, but gives—gives you everything he can, with a level of care that’s almost overwhelming. And even though he’s gentle, don’t get it twisted—he’s still a tease. He’s the kind of man who’ll leave marks on your skin, a subtle reminder that you're his. But it's all in the way he leads, in that steady hand that takes yours, guiding you through every little moment.  

There’s nothing loud about Crowe—other than his moans and whining. I SWEAR he has pretty moans.

He doesn’t demand anything and doesn’t rush you, but he has this way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the room. When he touches you, it’s with a confidence that leaves you breathless but also comforted. He’ll press his forehead against yours, his hand guiding yours down to your stomach, just so you can feel his bulge inside you,how much he wants you, how much he’s thinking about you at that moment. 

There’s no need for words—just that connection, that intense eye contact that says everything.  

But yeah, he’ll also let you think you have the upper hand for a minute. Let you believe you’ve got him cornered, like you're finally taking control… only for him to flip the switch, regaining control without you even realizing.  

With Crowe, it’s not about begging or pleading for pleasure—it’s about your happiness, your satisfaction. His version of dominance is the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket, soft and cozy. He just wants to see you smile, hear you laugh—moan, and whine under him, and know that every moment spent with him is full of happiness.  

So, if you're into a soft dom who values deep emotional connection, tenderness, and affection, Crowe’s your man! He just wants you to trust him, to let go and let him care for you. Let him be there for you in every single way, in every moment. 

And in that, he gives you all the security you’ll ever need.

✑ Praise (giving + receiving)

Crowe is all about Praise, and affection through words. Imagine him pulling you close, whispering in your ear while his fingers gently trace patterns along your skin. 

“You’re such a good girl for me, look at how well you take me, love. That’s my girl, always so ready for me, aren’t you?” His words make you feel safe, wanted, and cherished.

He doesn’t wait for you to ask for reassurance—he gives it freely, letting you know how much he appreciates having you around, and how much he loves seeing you smile. And when it comes to your body? He knows every inch of it like he’s got a personal map of your every curve and spot. He might even joke, “No one will ever know you like I do. I’ve ruined you for everyone else, haven’t I?”

Crowe has this vibe about him, like he’s always hungry to make sure you're feeling amazing, but don’t forget to show him some love, too. He thrives on hearing you praise him, especially when you whisper how much you need him, and how much he’s doing for you. The sound of your voice, the words you say—they get to him, melt him down until his heart's pounding.

Now and then, he’ll pull back, checking in on you, “You okay? Am I pushing you too far?” It’s not just about the rush for him. He wants you to be comfortable, to be in sync with him as he takes you through everything, slow and steady, giving you all that love. “That’s it, you're doing so well,” he’ll say, his voice smooth like syrup, making sure you know you're adored.

But here’s the thing: if you keep praising him, or if you’re the one in control, just wait. Crowe’s mouth? It’ll get filthy. AND I MEAN FILTHY. He can’t help it, don't be mean now...

I mean, you can. You giving him head? Taking his cock deep inside your throat, feeling he's about to cum, then you pulled back, teasing him. He'll say, "Please, my love, you were doing so good on my cock—please, please, keep going, I need that tongue of yours."

One of his favorite things is when you’re so into it that he can just forget what you say and speak directly to you, but in a way that’ll make your body react before your mind even catches up. Like, he’ll whisper, “God, you taste so damn good. Missed me, huh? Just wanna be filled up, don't you?”

His words drip against you, his eyes dark with heat, like he's speaking to your body, not even acknowledging your moans. “Such a good fucking pussy. Always making me feel so damn good. Want me to stuff you full, hm?”

And when it’s all done? Crowe doesn’t just drop it and move on. He’s got aftercare down to an art. He’ll guide you through it, keep you close, making sure you’re okay, settled, and cared for, getting ready to do it all again whenever you’re ready!

✑ Experimentalist

Crowe is the kind of man who never wants to leave any stone unturned, especially when it comes to experiences.

There was something about him that screamed experimentalist—like he needed to try everything, no matter how wild or unconventional. When it came to relationships, he was always up for anything, which meant he'd probably had more relationship experiences than most people you knew. 

His mind is open, impossibly so, and he had an insatiable curiosity that could never be satisfied. He’d never form an opinion on something without diving in and getting his first-hand taste. If there was something new to try, something out-of-the-box—Crowe was there, ready to explore. 

And honestly? He didn’t even need you to ask twice. If you suggested something wild, he’d be all in—his enthusiasm infectious, his curiosity never-ending.

However, he's pretty vanilla when it comes to experimenting, so don't expect him to go TOO hardcore. If there's a kink suited to his taste and he masters it? Oh, Babe, you'll feel it—so much in fact.

Take ropes, for example. Blindfolds? Handcuffs? Oh, he is intrigued. But, again, don’t expect anything brutal. He isn't the type to be into floggers or paddles; no, pain isn't needed for his skills. It is his anticipation. The slow burn of him carefully tying you up, not in a rush, but with the kind of patience that made every moment last longer. 

When his hands hovered over your skin, it wasn’t just touch—it was electric. He’d make sure to linger, let his fingers graze over every inch, just enough to make you shiver, your breath hitching in the air between you. It wasn’t about hurting you, not at all. No, it was all about the build-up—the moment when the ropes or restraints were placed just so, tightening the tension between you both until it was practically unbearable. 

And then? When you finally let go, it was a release so sweet and steady that it left you breathless. No rushing, no quick fixes—just a slow, fulfilling pleasure.

Adding on, Crowe loved the idea of restraint. Whether for fun, for art, or for that extra little spark of excitement, there was something about having you completely at his mercy. 

And if you ever flipped the script? If he was the one getting tied up? Like I said, Crowe will be just as filthy when he lets his guard down. 

✑ Dacryphillia

Okay, hear me out. I know what you’re thinking—"Crowe? He would never hurt me. Why would he want to see me cry?" And I get it, really. This is one of those wild ideas but just stick with me for a second.

You know how he’s all about emotions and deep connections, right? Get it?

He gets this deep fascination with what you feel and show, especially when it’s raw. Here’s where it gets interesting: Dacryphilia. Yeah, I’m talking about that thing where someone gets... well, aroused by tears, by the sound of you sobbing, the whole mess of emotions. 

So, let’s imagine this: You’re begging him, pleading for more. Your face is a mess of emotions, eyes watery, tears rolling down your cheeks. And yeah, he’s gonna ask if you’re okay because that’s the kind of man he is—always checking, always making sure. But if you keep begging for more? Oh, that’s when it gets dangerous. 

Each desperate plea of yours, each tremor in your voice, just fuels this fire inside him, an all-consuming fire. His eyes? They’re practically glowing, deep blue, and locked on you like he's drowning in you, in every little thing you’re feeling.

You can feel him there, so close you can almost taste his breath on your skin. His lips brush against your ear, a soft, teasing whisper sending shivers down your spine. "So desperate for me already, huh? We haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet..." His voice is low, and dangerous, like he’s savoring every second of this.

You know he’s enjoying this. Every inch of him is hooked, and once he has you like this, there’s no going back.

Crowe’s could be teasing you for what feels like hours, driving you wild with a mix of pleasure and frustration. He’s pulled every bit of sensation from you, your body trembling with each orgasm, each touch—until you’re left aching for more. You’ve come undone on his fingers, his tongue, but now, you’re desperate in a way that makes your chest ache.

You need him, inside of you, filling you up, but he’s holding back. Just barely, he brushes against you with his cock, grinning at the whine that slips from your lips.

His fingers tease your entrance, and you can’t stop yourself from begging, voice shaky, "Please... Please, please." You repeated. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as they fall helplessly. The emptiness without him feels unbearable.

Crowe tilted his head, the smirk on his face practically dripping with playful mockery. “Just please?” He dragged the word out slowly, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Tell me what you want, love. What is it you’re begging for?” His hand slid up your stomach, hand pushing down lightly as if testing the waters. 

A soft moan released from your lips as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, the playful glint in his eyes shifting into something darker, more calculating. “You want me to fill you up, don’t you?”

His soft gin stretched wider as you stumbled over your words, desperate and disordered, pleading for more. He could tell you were unraveling, and it only pushed him further, each whimper was like a small victory. 

“You’re falling apart, love,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need... just say the word.” You could barely focus as the desperation built into your chest. His control over you was unnerving, yet exhilarating. The tears running down your cheeks were a mix of frustration and need, a silent scream for him. 

“I need you, Crowe. Please...” Your voice was broken, but he was the one who was in control, studying the way you reacted like a willing experiment.

Crowe’s hand lifts gently to your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears streaming down your face. He gives you a soft grin, his voice low and teasing. “Already crying for me, huh?” he murmurs, almost amused. His thumb slips past your lips, letting you taste the salty remnants of your emotions. "We’ve just started," he adds, a soft chuckle escaping him. 

Before you can respond, his hips jerk forward, pushing into you with one swift, forceful motion. The shock of it makes your breath catch, and Crowe can’t help but smirk, his eyes glinting with that dangerous, experimental gleam.

Every move, calculated and deliberate, is part of his twisted exploration. And you? You’re the willing subject.

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

Sol is described as a “stinky basement-dwelling yandere”—ngl, this alone made me laugh. He’s a quiet kid, the one who lingered at the edges of every room, observing, never quite fitting in.

Beneath his reserved exterior was a complexity most couldn’t fathom. He’s incredibly smart, with a sharpness that slipped through his words when he spoke, though he rarely bothered to. His talents leaned toward the arts, paintings, and writings.

And yet, at the end of the day, Sol isn’t exactly smooth. He was hopelessly inexperienced when it came to relationships. He gets no bitches, and honestly, he probably doesn’t even try. But in his inexperience is a certain rawness, and once you did get to know him, he’ll flirt or charm you. But before, he just watched and wanted.  

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Sol as kinky?

Yes, let’s not sugarcoat it—he is kinky asf. Of course, he is. There was no way someone as quiet and repressed as Sol didn’t have a horny side, one he tried to keep buried but couldn’t fully hide due to his love for you. 

✑ Switch (A Pervert…)

Now, about Sol’s... preferences. 

From reading his relationship information card and playing the game. He is a paradox, a Switch in every sense of the word. He didn’t neatly fit into the mold of “always dominant” or “forever submissive.” Oh no, that would be far too mundane for someone like him. He's not a standard yandere people.

Sol is a man of extremes, a “pervert” in the most endearing, shameless sense of the word. He believed in living freely, without the shackles of societal expectations or traditional constraints. Ethics, morality, conventional roles—he’d toss them aside without hesitation if they stood in the way of his desires.   

When he takes the reins as Dominant, Sol is the type to lean into theatrics, pushing boundaries with a devilish grin and that mischievous gleam in his eyes. He had a talent for making the experience unforgettable, for making you feel as though the entire world had melted away, leaving only the two of you. But when the tables turned, when Sol found himself in the more submissive role, he’d throw himself into it with equal fervor. 

He’d challenge you to prove your worth, tease and push until you stepped up to the plate, and then—when you finally did—he’d surrender so completely that it'll feel like a victory worth savoring.  

To Sol, sex and relationships weren’t just about power dynamics or tradition. They were a playground for exploration, a place where the only rule was to follow what felt right. With his “anything goes” mentality, Sol turned every interaction into a kaleidoscope of passion and unpredictability. 

As mentioned, Sol, can’t help himself when it comes to you.

Let’s say he has this thing—Voyeuristic Disorder, to be precise, a fancy word for being a pervert. Dosn't care to see anyone else naked. Only you he wishes to see. He was obsessed with watching you, whether you knew it or not. In public or private, it didn’t matter.

He just liked being there, lurking in the shadows, soaking in every moment. Watching you do the most intimate things, completely unaware that he was there. 

There was something so exhilarating about seeing you—your bare skin, the way you moved, the little things you did when you thought no one was watching. He couldn’t resist. The way your body reacted, the sounds you made when you didn’t know he was there—it was all he needed. 

Deadass, I’m shocked that the creator of the game never added a specific scene where you were taking care of yourself in bed—you freak, oblivious to him sneaking a peek from the window, his hand on his cock, jacking himself off, doing exactly what he does best. Watching. 

He didn’t let societal norms dictate how he expressed himself or who he loved. He was unapologetically himself—messy, chaotic, and a little too intense for most people’s taste. But for those brave enough to step into his world, you, well, if you picked him, that is.

Sol will offer an experience unlike any other: one filled with unrelenting honesty, unbridled passion, and a love that refuses to be anything less than extraordinary.  

✑ Praise (Receiving)

Sol isn't the type of man you’d peg as desperate for validation—at least, not at first glance. His sharp, confident exterior gave the impression of someone who had the world at his feet, who didn’t flinch under pressure or crack beneath judgmental stares. 

But peel back the layers of this supposed nonchalant and cool type of man, and you’d find a truth that was much more human, much more raw. Sol craved praise. Why? Perhaps it was the lack of it throughout his life. His track record for romance was, let’s say, less than impressive. Not because he lacked charm or good looks—he had both in spades—but because his overbearing aura and unapologetic eccentricities tended to drive most people away. 

They didn’t understand him, couldn’t see past the way he challenged conventions. He wore his "loser" title like armor. After all, who cared if he didn’t have admirers lined up at his door? He didn’t need anyone... right? Yet, when someone, such as you, did manage to offer him an honest compliment, something sincere, it was like watching a dam break. 

His confident smirk would falter for a second, his eyes softening, betraying the vulnerability he worked so hard to conceal. Sol wasn’t accustomed to receiving love—real, genuine love—and when it came, it hit him like a truck

✑ Masochist

The first time you noticed Sol’s tendency to endure pain, you’d thought it was just his stubborn nature. He’s always been the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve when it came to you—raw, unfiltered, and unapologetically vulnerable. But as time went on, you began to see something deeper beneath that tough, rebellious exterior. 

Sol wasn’t just someone who endured pain; he seemed to embrace it…? almost thrive on it, especially when it comes to you.

Sol is, without a doubt, a masochist. Not in the twisted, sadistic sense, but in an almost heartbreaking way. He’d do anything to please you, to earn your attention—even if it meant enduring the unendurable. 

He could never be a sadist. No, he loved you too much to ever inflict pain on you, physically or emotionally. The very thought of hurting you would make his stomach churn. Instead, he channeled all his devotion into being by your side, no matter the cost.

There were moments when his tendencies became painfully obvious. Like he gets into fights back to back, defending himself or you—for example, the movie theater bathroom or the Campus library (With or without.)

You hadn’t/have even been there to witness it—Sol hadn’t wanted you to see him like that, bruised and bloody. But when you found out later, he brushed it off with that crooked grin of his, the one that hid just how far he’d go for you. “It’s nothing,” he’d said, wiping the blood from his lip. “They deserved it for talking about you like that.”

Or that time with Crowe. It had been an innocent moment, just you laughing at something Crowe said, but to Sol, it might as well have been a dagger to his chest. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, nails digging into his palms until they drew blood. He didn’t want to feel that way—jealousy mixed with self-loathing—but he couldn’t help it. Watching you walk away with someone else, even for a moment, was unbearable. 

It wasn’t that he enjoyed the pain; it was just that he could handle it, even when it tore him apart inside.  

And in the quiet, intimate moments, Sol’s masochistic streak became something else entirely. If you picked him willingly, He’ll trust you, and loved you, enough to let down every last defense he had. He didn’t just endure pain; with you, he could find meaning in it. 

A sharp bite, nails dragging down his back—he shivered under your touch, his body responding in ways he didn’t fully understand but didn’t question. For him, it wasn’t just about the sensation; it was about the connection, the way it brought him closer to you.  

Masochism, for Sol, wasn’t about pain tolerance. It wasn’t about how much he could take. It was about the way he found a strange, twisted kind of comfort in it. The pain wasn’t the point; it was the context, the giver—you. Sol would never seek out pain for its own sake, but if it was for you, if it meant being close to you, he’d endure anything.  

Even in the game, he seemed to attract hardship like a magnet, always the one taking the hits—physically and emotionally. Whether it was the bullies who thought he was an easy target or the way he seemed to hurt himself just to prove his devotion to you, Sol carried it all with a quiet, unshakable resolve. Because, at the end of the day, it wasn’t about the pain. It was about you.  

And he’d never stop. For Sol, loving you wasn’t just a choice—it was a part of who he was. If being close to you meant enduring the worst the world could throw at him, he’d take it all with a smile. Because that’s who Sol is. A damn masochist.  

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.  

✑ Somnophillia 

It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Everyone could see this coming from a mile away—there was simply no other possibility. Sol, in all his twisted complexity, had long blurred the line between obsession and affection, his love taking on forms most would never dare to comprehend. 

Some might accuse him of holding darker urges, like necrophilia, drawn to the lifelessness of the dead. But no, that isn’t Sol. Despite his obsessions, there was a deep-rooted sentimentality within him—a refusal to let go, to lose. If anything, he had made it clear in his own hauntingly poetic way: he’d rather die with you than live without you. 

Yet, that didn’t mean his desires were any less unnerving. No, Sol’s particular brand of affection manifested in somnophilia, a fascination with the vulnerability of sleep, the beauty of your unconscious form. To him, those moments were sacred—your body relaxed, your mind adrift in dreams. It was when he felt closest to you, unguarded and free from the chaos of the waking world.  

Before your relationship, it started innocuously enough—or so it seemed. He’d find ways to end up at your apartment, invited by some pretense or perhaps even through sheer charisma. And then, ever so subtly, he’d lace your drink with something to make you drowsy, to keep you from suspecting as his fingers ghosted on you. 

You lay there, utterly still, utterly serene, your chest rising and falling with the kind of peaceful rhythm that seemed to still the chaos of the world around you.  

It was maddening, the way you looked so untouched by the noise that haunted him, your lips slightly parted, the barest whisper of breath escaping them. Every exhale was a siren call, soft and unassuming, but it gripped him like a vice.  

His gaze wandered, helplessly drawn down the curve of your cheek to your lips. They looked soft, and inviting in a way that felt almost cruel. He wanted to press his own to them, to taste whatever peace you’d found and see if he could borrow just a fraction of it for himself.  

But it wasn’t just your lips. His eyes traced lower, following the lines of your body, the way your clothes clung to you, hinting at the form beneath. He shouldn’t be thinking like this—he knew he shouldn’t. And yet the thought of you, warm and pliant beneath him, invaded his mind, unrelenting.  

He swallowed hard, trying to shake it off, but the more he fought, the more vivid the thoughts became. The sound of your soft sighs, the way you’d move under his touch, how you’d look at him—not like this, not sleepily and unaware, but awake, wanting.  

God, he was losing it.  

Sol leaned back, running a hand through his hair, forcing his gaze away from you for a moment. But it didn’t matter—your image was burned into his mind, and there was no escape. Watching you sleep was his guilty pleasure, though his guilt barely lasted long enough to stop him from pressing further. 

Once the two of you were together, the dynamics shifted, but only slightly.

Sol’s obsession deepened, and the lines of consent became more of a gray haze in his mind. To him, love was devotion—complete and all-encompassing. And if you loved him, shouldn’t you accept him entirely? Shouldn’t you trust him to care for you, even when you weren’t awake to see it? 

He was careful, always so careful with you, so don’t worry! 

His lips found their way to the sensitive curve of your inner thigh, his movements slow and deliberate as if savoring every second of this quiet moment. You stirred faintly, a sleepy whimper escaping your lips as the warmth of his mouth brushed against you, teasing and tender.

Sol’s hands gripped your hips gently but firmly; his fingers splayed across your skin to hold you in place. You tried to shift, your body instinctively responding to the soft, wet pressure of his tongue on your needy cunt, but his strength was unyielding.

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper in the stillness. One hand slid up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his thumb lingering for a moment as he marveled at the serene expression you wore, so unaware of the devotion he poured into every touch. “You’re even more beautiful like this,” he breathed, his words an intimate confession meant only for the dark.

To Sol, this meant everything. 

This was the essence of love itself—intimacy beyond words, a bond that transcended anything others could hope to understand. He wasn't like anyone else; he knew that, and perhaps that’s what made this feel so special.

So sacred.

There was a quiet possessiveness in the way he worshiped you, a deep yearning to etch himself into every corner of your being, to ensure no one else could ever touch the part of you that belonged to him.

And as you stirred again, a soft moan escaping your lips, Sol smirked against your skin, the faintest edge of smug satisfaction curling at the corner of his mouth. You might not fully wake, but you’d feel him—his touch, his adoration, eventually his cock. You’d know, even in sleep, that you were his world.

To be with him, you’d have to accept all of him. Even the shadowed obsession that came with it. 

[mesetacadre]

hi, i hope you dont mind me asking this question! i often come across lists of reading recommendations for communists, and they are usually focused entirely on communist theory. which is important and im already on that, but i wonder if you also have recs for learning about history? especially the history of the soviet union, but also other past and present socialist states. i sometimes find myself reading theory and understanding the concepts in a vacuum, but with very little understanding of the historical context they were written in, if that makes any sense. and id like to get a basic grasp of the history of various socialist projects that isnt just the typical western "the ussr was evil!!!!" thing

Hi, historical context is indeed very important for works of theory, especially if it's more than a hundred years old. Lenin's What is to be Done, for example, is very conditioned by its historical context of Russia still being predominantly feudal, with only a timid appearance of the proletariat in St. Petersburg and Moscow, and therefore the very first trade unions, which he talks about. The understanding of these texts is amplified, and quite often enabled by knowing at least the basic historical context. Below I'll list the historical works I've read (and others) with some commentary, but I encourage anyone who has something to add to do so, since I am as of only recently getting more into historiography.

Anything by Anna Louise Strong (I've read The Soviets Expected it (1941) and In North Korea (1941), there's also The New Lithuania (1941), The Stalin Era (1956) and When Serfs Stood Up in Tibet (1959) for example). Her works, which I'd consider primary sources since they are written from her own experience witnessing events and talking to a lot of people, are extremely useful if you wish to form an idea about how some aspects of socialist states worked. The limitation of her works also resides in this specificity and closeness, these are not works that present a broad view of long processes, but a slice of the present with the sufficient historical context. They are still very, very good.

The Open Veins of Latin America (Spanish versrion), by Eduardo Galeno (1971). This one is focused on the history of imperialism in Latin America, how it evolved from the moment the first Spanish foot touched ground to the time it was written in (It talks about Allende before he was assassinated but after achieving power, for example). Perhaps it's not exactly what you're looking for, but it contains very important general context for any social movement that has happened since 1492 to 1971

The Triumph of Evil, by Austin Murphy (2002). I have mixed feelings about this book. While it insists on this weird narrative of absolute evil, which IMO takes away a lot of value from the overall points made, it is an astonishingly in-depth analysis of the economic performance and general merit of socialist systems against their capitalist counterparts. Most of the book is dedicated to comparing the GDR to the FRG, and both the economic and social data it exposes was very eye-opening to me when I read it about 2 years ago. If you can wade through the moralism (especially the beginning of the introduction), it's a gem. I've posted pictures of its very detailed index under the cut :)

Blackshirts and Reds, Michael Parenti (1997). Despite the very real criticisms levied against this book, like its mischaracterization of China, it is still a landmark work. Synthetically, it exposes the relationship between fascism, capitalism and communism.

Red Star Over the Third World, Vijay Prashad (2019); The Russian Revolution: A View from the Third World, Walter Rodney (2018). I'm lumping these two together (full disclosure, as of writing I'm about four fifths of the way through RSOtTW) because they deal with the same topic, Prashad being influenced by Rodney as well. Like both titles imply, they deal with the effects the October revolution had on the exploited peoples of the world, which is a perspective that's often lost. Through this, they (at least Prashad) also talk about the early USSR and how it functioned. For example, up until reading Red Star, I hadn't even heard of the 1920 Congress of The Toilers of the East in Baku, or the Congress of the Women of the East.

From here on I'll link works that I haven't (yet) read, but I have seen enough trusted people talk about them to include them

How to Cast a God into Hell: The Khrushchev Report, by Domenico Losurdo (2008). This one talks about how the period of Stalin was twisted and exaggerated through destalinization.

Devils in Amber, by Philips Bonoski (1992). This is about the Baltics and their historical trajectory from before WW1 to the destruction of the USSR (I'm not very sure on those two limits, perhaps they fluctuate a bit, but it definitely covers from WW1 to the 60s)

Socialism Betrayed, by Roger Keeran and Thomas Kenny (2004). This one deals with the process leading up to and the destruction of the USSR itself.

The Jakarta Method, Vincent Bevins (2020). This is about the methods the US used in the second half of the 20th century to stamp out, prevent, or otherwise sabotage communist movements and other democratic anti-imperialist movements.

I know some of these aren't specifically about socialist states, which is what you asked, but the history of its opposition is just as important to understand because it always exists as a condition to these countries' development and policies chosen.

[spinji]

Characters With White Hair Have Mutated Quirks

Right what it says on the tin. I have a theory that white hair is a sign of a quirk mutation i.e. someone with a quirk completely unrelated to the hereditary genes they should have gotten their quirk from. This is not the same as a merged quirk, where the power from the child is unique but comes from combining both of the child's hereditary genes. Those quirks can come with their own issues but they aren't completely out of left field given who the parents are.

Eri

This one is self explanatory. It's outright stated that Eri's rewind quirk is unnatural; it's where we're first introduced to the concept of mutated quirks. And her hair has always been naturally white.

All For One and Yoichi

It's established by the narrative that All For One and Yoichi are the first two babies born with what would be considered a quirk by modern standards. Most notably though, both are completely different from spike-like growths their mother had.

Now, because this hasn't been animated yet, it's unclear if their mother has white hair herself or just lightly colored hair but either one doesn't debunk this idea in itself. If her hair is different then both twins have a clear mutation, and if it's the same then her growths could be its own mutation. The series does explicitly mention that their mother was exhibiting a premature quirk an entire two years before quirks as we know them were discovered so clearly there was something different about her.

Shoji

This one is also clearly stated as being a mutation, and it makes sense. Shoji's environment growing up was so hostile to heteromorphic quirks to such a degree that he was violently beat and chased out of his village. If his parents had similar quirks, or any kind of physical mutation for that matter, I doubt they would have survived long enough for Mezo to be born.

The Todoroki-Himura family

This one is the hardest to justify because it's not just one case, it's at least six. Geten, Rei, Touya, Fuyumi, Natsu, and Shoto all have 50% or more white hair. It's very clearly a genetic trait here.

But Rei's genetics specifically are already questionable.

It's stated by Geten that the Himura's have a history of marrying within the family. While details are minimal, if this cycle of incest has been going on for several generations at this point, it's possible that the very ice quirk Enji sought out was a mutation due to the Himura's unstable genetics. It's not a particularly odd or destructive quirk like other, confirmed, mutations, but it is surprisingly dominant and pervasive.

All four Todoroki children have some aspect of this ice quirk, suggesting that the hair color and the quirk are linked.

Touya is also one of the only people in the series born to be unsuited for his quirk. While concepts like the Quirk Doomsday Theory apply more broadly, that theory defines quirks too powerful for the body they host, not a body so genetically twisted that they inherently can't use their ability. Touya's hair also changes in hue over time in a way very unnatural to any other character in the series, as if Rei's genetics are spreading like a virus.

While marrying Enji instead of one of her cousins did diversify the genetic pool of the kids to a degree I still am willing to believe there is some significant damage to their genetic line from all of the Himura's inbreeding and the clearest sign of that is in the ice quirk.

Shigaraki

This one is an interesting case because Tomura's hair actually changes with the appearance of "his" quirk. Keep in mind for this part that the desaturated light blue that Tomura is typically depicted with is an error on the part of the early anime staff since the only color images of Tomura at the time had blue lighting. From the start it was intended to be white. Note that he's already being drawn with white hair in the hideout raid arc.

Up to this point, everyone with a mutated quirk has been born with white hair but Tenko wasn't. His hair turned from black to white after his decay manifested. Keep in mind though, decay was not his original quirk.

While we don't know what the initial quirk was (I personally choose to believe it was float or airwalk) he was born with one naturally before All For One took it and replaced it with Decay. Decay is also a copied and modified version of Overhaul, which we know ISN'T a mutation quirk.

Essentially, All For One artificially mutated Overhaul, and the resulting quirk caused the same physical changes that natural mutations do. The quirk itself is the source of the mutation, so passing on a mutated quirk causes the same physical changes as being born with one.

What about AFO/OFA?

Obviously both All For One (the quirk) and One For All's original form have the ability to pass quirks to others and we've seen over a dozen different people take quirks from both of these processes and not see any changes to their hair pigment.

While being given a quirk you weren't intended to hold is unnatural it's also not technically mutagenic. Giving and taking quirks is a natural process for both AFO and OFA so while the creations of these quirks were a mutation, their intended use is not.

One For All specifically stocks and absorbs the quirks from the users. It latches onto the quirks that are already there or takes up that place where a quirk would have been in the cases of All Might and Midoriya. All For One meanwhile is playing with pre-established quirks. Unless the quirk itself is carrying a mutated strain of DNA, it wouldn't affect the one being given said quirk.

There are holes in this, namely that ED6 shows Eri's mother with her hair style/texture but at the same time anime-orginal additions are difficult to weigh since we don't know if something that insignificant got author approval. It could also be a matter of all mutants have white hair but not all white haired characters are mutants. Either way I don't think this was an intended pattern by Horikoshi, just an interesting way to spin it.

[trevorhettybrainrot]

Friends, I've spent the last few months unable to stop thinking about Trevor and Hetty and how basically everything in this show is connected to the two of them. Because as Asher said last week “everything you think you're seeing, you're seeing” Please join me on this journey as I explain all of this in great detail up until the end of season four.

Trevor hitting on Sam

In 102 Trevor says he didn't expect this either when Sam asks what's going on, then later in the episode when she asks what he wants Trevor asks Sam to dump her husband, kill herself, and be with him, but let's keep it casual. After the melon jokes when Hetty told him to keep hitting on Sam to make everything seem normal. His final comment being during 220 when he and Hetty announced they were dating, making a comment about this beefcake being off the market. But right after that comment he stopped hitting on her completely, whether because he was dating Hetty for a short amount of time, or because he realized it would never happen even after him and Hetty broke up. And then we find out in 404 that he's started calling Sam and Jay, mom and dad. Whatever the reason was, maybe he realized how he was coming off. He's grown, changing the way he talks to Sam, and some of his past behavior.

Their deaths and their ghost powers:

In 116 Trevor says he took off his pants because he had sex with the limo driver before arriving at Woodstone. When the reality of it is that he had given his pants to Pinkus in what he calls a hero move in order to stop him from being hazed by his coworkers. Trevor was willing to let that secret die with him [literally] until Sass said he saw everything that happened. In 308 Hetty says she died of a morphine overdose after celebrating Elias demise, when in actuality she took her own life. Two very different lies, one bigger, and with more depth than the other. But the fact that these two understand the facade, the idea that no one else can know anything about you that makes you look weak, makes you look different than the you that you want people to know. They understand each other. There's also the fact that Hetty's suicide was an attempt to give her son a good life, give him everything he would need. A hero move in itself.

Onto their ghost powers. Trevor being able to touch things in the outside world, and Hetty being seen by people in the outside world on St Patricks Day. Their powers allowing both of them to keep a connection with the living world.

Power Friends

During 412 Trevor refuses to let Hetty sit at the ghost table for the opening of Jays restaurant. Resulting in the two of them arguing, but also admitting that they each missed their friendship. And Hetty admitting she could've handled things better/apologizing for how their relationship ended after she tried to sleep with Thor after finding out his previous girlfriends had all been sucked off. This resulted in Hetty suggesting power friends, a different sort of friendship where they collude against the other ghosts, with the ultimate goal of ruling the house. And considering that in 218 Hetty says she's ashamed to be with Trevor, this is a big thing for her to realize Trevor would be a suitable person to rule the house with. Another big moment of growth is Hetty suggesting power friends not for herself but because she realized she hurt Trevor. Moving on to 418, when Trevor asks her if he's a selfish capitalist pig after Flower tells him he is, and she responds that's one of your only redeeming qualities. She clearly likes the fact that he can be selfish and capitalistic at times, the perfect person for her to rule the house with. In the same episode Hetty comes up with a scheme for Trevor to try and get back at Flower for saying he was a selfish capitalist pig. “A plan in which two rich people show a poor person the error of her ways” In past episodes [206, and 412] Hetty tells Trevor that she's better than him because she's old money and he's new money, in this episode she's seeing them both simply as rich. She also says “We were outsmarted by a half wit, which makes us not even quarter wits” That use of we and us. These two are on the same even level as each other. The final thing here being 422, when the light fixture falls and the two of them instantly grab for each others hands as they're moving back, instead of Hetty grabbing onto her Issac's hands [He's supposed to be her best friend] That desire to protect each other. We've seen them do things like this, whenever anything big happens they rush towards the other, but this is the first time we've seen them do it as power friends. Equals. In 206 Hetty tells Trevor “It's lonely at the top” I think maybe she was wrong about that this time.

Relationship

In 112 Trevor admits he's upset he died before finding love, that he misses having that connection with someone new, that hope she might be the one, and that he's worried he's never going to find that again. This is brought up in 206, and 419 when he talks about how he always wanted a family. In 303 Hetty says she was part of a land deal done by her father, that she never got a chance to experience what Nigel and Isaac had. These two people so clearly want to be loved, and want to have a chance at loving someone. This is proven further in 416 when Hetty goes on a date with Sunil, and after he finds out she's a ghost she tells him he made her feel seen. That this is the first time she's ever felt seen by another person. She knows exactly what kind of relationship she wants after that.

In 217 Hetty is basically forced into forgiving Elias, a recurring theme throughout this show. Everything regarding Hetty's past wasn't her choice. She was forced into this marriage by her father as part of a land deal, forced into seeing suicide as the only way out, forced to see her ex husband whenever he feels like it. With all of this it makes sense that she'd be forced into forgiving him.

However, the opposite of all of this is Trevor. Everything about Hetty and Trevor's relationship has been on her terms, she's been running their whole relationship this whole time. It's always been with her choices, starting in 210 when Trevor asked her if he went too far, and Hetty being the one who pulls him into her for their first kiss. It was Hetty's choice to give Nigel what he wanted because Trevor asked her what their plan was, and he just went with whatever she said. Even giving up his room because Nigel was going to tell everyone and that made Hetty uncomfortable. It was Hetty's choice to announce her and Trevor were a couple, and alls Trevor said was “are you sure?” You could also say the breakup was Hetty's choice to given it was based on her poor decision to try and sleep with Thor. And Trevor even said if you walk out that door it's over. And even Hetty admitting she could've handled things better and apologizing wasn't because Trevor forced her into it. Even after they became power friends, she was the one who suggested that. This man has always given her a choice with any moments in their relationship. Her whole relationship with Trevor is basically the antithesis to her relationship with Elias. Even being forced to talk about her suicide, and having to admit that her son killed Alberta. Everything from her past has been forced. But everything from her afterlife has been her own decision.

When she does choose Trevor, choosing someone who most people wouldn't approve of. His social class, his [lack thereof] pants, his whole entire persona. For all intents and purposes he isn't right for her, they don't make a lot of sense at first sight. But it works, they're very much the same people. Their lines are insanely parallel just at different times in their lives. So her making that choice to love him. To spend the rest of her eternity with this man. To share every part of her afterlife with him, even the parts she hasn't told anyone about, or the most uncomfortable parts. It's going to be huge. Trevor's going to be the first man she's ever chosen to love. And the first person who sees her as his equal, and not just some trophy wife. The first person who loves her unconditionally, and with his whole heart.

In 303 Hetty says she once picked money over love and in many ways she was poorer for it. With her and Trevor there wouldn't really be a choice between love and money, he's the only ghost in the house with any money, and she picked money years ago and while yes it was a horrible decision it did get her the title of lady of the house. That money, and the status, and the ruling of the house is already there. Yes she's going to choose to love Trevor, but whenever that happens it's not going to cost her anything, it's just going to be the final thing for Hetty to get everything she's wanted. To quote Asher again “He represents a kind of freedom that she never got to have”

To paraphrase Asher, Trevor and Hetty are studying and trying to copy Sam and Jay, because they seem them as a couple to emulate. Essentially, these two are the ghost version of Sam and Jay. I don't know what's next for these two, but whatever the writers have planned for them I'm going to enjoy immensely.

[megadoomingir]

Howdy! So I've already read Stop Me like probably three times already (maybe four since I plan on rereading again) and I just want to say that both Stop Me and Redeem The Stars will always be strangled tightly in my spark. The first time I picked it up I read it EVERY DAY. I even made a Fanfic Friday dedicated to it and every time I even think about it I literally explode into a mixed emotional breakdown (especially when thinking about those last two chapters.)

Anyway, I wanted to ask a few Qs if you don't mind...

Was there anything that inspired/gave you the idea to write Stop Me or Redeem The Stars? If so, what was your inspo?

Who's Starscream's favorite out of Team Prime? Any reason why?

How would Starscream react if Jetfire was in this universe?

Is there any actual explanation why Starscream suddenly discovered his power? Or did he just always have an outlier ability but was just unaware of it?

How close would you say Optimus and Starscream are?

Thank you for taking your time to read this if you do! Absolutely kookoo bananas for your works (I'm trying so hard not to explode right now) and I hope you're doing the bestest of best!!

Howdy back~! I’m honored to hear that both of my Transformers stories hold such high value to you. ^^

1. Frustration. Spite. Knowing that TFP had the opportunity to be so much MORE and seeing it held back by corporate standards instead of encouraged by an artist’s vision. Starscream himself was a wonderfully complicated character that had initially been written out of the show. And when he was forced back in, it was clear that no one knew what to do with him. How he was treated made everything so much more frustrating. Well, if the writers of TFP couldn’t or wouldn’t do it, I guess it’s MY job to fix it.

2. Starscream definitely could never but absolutely could while also not really being hypothetical in his address of this question that maybe, but no, well yes, nah, have a favorite. It’s like choosing a treat. You have favorites for a reason. Maybe you’d prefer something more creamy than chocolatey at one time but the next is something WILD like a fruit roll-up pickle. No judgements. And so it’s not like he could ever truly have a favorite out of all of the bots Optimus. It’s Optimus. Who ELSE?

3. Currently, there is not much I can detail about Skyfire in this particular situation.

4. There is a larger explanation at work but what I can definitively tell you at this time is that Starscream always had this outlier power.

5. Hmmm… Allow me to be poetic in my answer in a way I’ve not been allowed to in my current writings…

Embryonically. Down to the finest wisps of electrical thought and a million words behind quick glances. When one casts a shadow, the other is blinding light. They are the backs and fronts of each other, torn and twisted and broken and still somehow mended despite these things as though they were reflections never fractured. Mirrors. But only of one another.

[diamond-champagne]

10. I Love You

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Warnings: None

Summary: In which things are figured out and confessed.

A/N: Shoutout to 🌟 for holding me accountable! Feedback is always welcome!

The smallest words are the most powerful. They often have the most impact. Intense and large emotions and experiences welded into a string of four letters. Hate. Love. Lust. Fate.

Fate. The development of events beyond a person’s control. The idea of it is entirely funny because honestly, how could it not be? 

Or at least, that’s what Azzi thinks.

She sits at her dining room table with her family, surrounded by Katie, Tim, Jon, Jose and Paige. The blonde girl that makes her laugh at that silly four letter word. 

How could it be that fate is beyond a person’s control? Azzi felt in control when she talked to Paige the entire plane ride back to Minneasota when they were younger. She felt in control when she answered every facetime call after said plane ride. She even felt in control when she shared a constant space with the girl after the pandemic. So the thought of this possibly not being in her control is laughable. However she only thinks of the word because it’s the only one that describes how perfectly Paige just fits. She has her own seat at the dinner table and her name is on the abandoned chore chart on the refrigerator. Paige is factored into movie nights, dinners, and holidays. Almost like it she was fated to be there and Azzi can only marvel at how easy it was for this to be a new normal. 

Beneath her ability to take that word seriously, Azzi feels warm and fuzzy. She is overcome with a sense of familiarity and softness that only seems to appear when a particular pair of blue eyes and a head full of blonde hair appear. So she revels in it. 

At least, that’s what she’s trying to do before she hears a throat clear. Quite loudly. 

“Are you listening to me?” Tim asks.

Suddenly Azzi realizes that there are several pairs of eyes on her. It makes her flush and muster an apologetic look. 

“Yeah, dad. Be up at 8am. Got it”

That seems to satisfy the table as the majority return their focus back to Tim as he gives a detailed description of their itinerary for the following morning. Tomorrow, the Fudds are hosting a camp for the elementary schools in the area. It’s something that they partake in monthly, helping the younger children grow their skills. So while you’d never know it from the way her dad is animatedly talking, Azzi knows the routine.  

She looks down at her plate, still full of the vegetables that she’s pushed around for the last thirty minutes. Azzi can feel Paige’s eyes on her. When she looks up, she’s met with deep pools of blue filled with concern.

“Are you okay, Az?” Paige asks. Her voice was laced with sincerity. 

“I’m fine.” Azzi replies surely while never breaking eye contact. The pair continue to stare at each other. Emotions swim in both of their eyes that are begging to be voiced into the world. It feels like forever and not long enough that they continue their staring contest before Jon breaks the moment between them to mention some tik tok video that he saw earlier that day. 

The rest of dinner is smooth but Azzi is antsy. She needs to talk to Paige immediately so she takes her shower and gets settled into bed while she waits for her best friend while rehearsing what she could possibly say. Immediately she thinks back to when it all made sense to her. 

-

Azzi thinks it’s been a long two weeks.

Actually, Azzi knows it's been a long two weeks because she hasn’t stopped thinking about the kiss in the bar bathroom.

It’s not that the two haven’t kissed before because well, they’ve had more than their fair share. This kiss though, was under the premise of something much larger than a secret night between the two. It was laced with the feeling of forever and provided such a high that they both wanted to chase for the end of time. Azzi wanted to chase Paige until the end of time. 

So, it’s been a long two weeks and she’s impatient. Azzi also wants to cuddle. 

She’s tired and all she wants to do is hug her best friend and bury her face in a head full of blonde hair. That’s why she flops on her bed as she lets out a groan that probably echoes through the stratosphere.

Well that and the fact that someone is knocking on her door. The brown haired girl pushes herself up and makes her way to the front door. She’s prepared to fully be an unwelcoming host; choosing to greet whoever with an eye roll and a voice that drips in annoyance but it’s her favorite pair of blue eyes on the other side of the door. 

“Hi,” Paige says. It’s a bit quiet and shy but it sounds perfect to Azzi. 

“H-Hi” the brown eyed girl stutters. She wants to ask what Paige is doing but her attention has been redirected to the bags in the blonde’s hands. It only confuses her more when she looks up and is met with a sheepish look on her best friend’s face.

“I missed you,” Paige blurts out before explaining further. “I thought maybe we could hang out because we’re still friends. We’ll always be best friends.”

“I miss you too,” Azzi confesses. “I always miss you.”

Azzi can feel herself smile at the words. It sends her heart soaring in ways she could have only imagined. She thinks this is what love songs must feel like. But then she watches Paige smile and she thinks it’s something she could watch for the rest of her life. But Azzi isn’t sure what to say. She isn’t sure that the words to explain what she feels for the older girl have been invented yet. So instead, she grabs the wrist of her blonde-haired forever and drags her into the kitchen.

As the brown-haired girl unpacks the bags, she discovers ice cream and her chipotle order. In the other bag, sits a hardcopy of “The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo” which she vaguely recalls talking about.

The gesture is small but moving. It’s what makes everything click.

Azzi can feel tears well up in her eyes so she’s quick to wipe them before hugging Paige. She can only hope that she’s able to feel the gratitude that rolls off of the curly-haired girl in waves. But it’s Paige so of course she feels it and of course she pulls Azzi closer to hug her tighter.

They aren’t sure how long they stand in the kitchen, simply enjoying each other’s embrace. But the sound of stomachs grumbling disturbed the moment and resulted in giggles from each of the basketball players. Soon, they’re sitting on the couch, while watching Frozen.

The empty chipotle bowls sit on the counter along with the ice cream that is surely forgotten about by now. That much doesn’t matter though because Azzi is laying on the couch with Paige in her arms. She isn’t paying attention to the movie though because all she can do is focus on the blonde on top of her and how happy she is at this very moment. 

It’s that thought that segways into feeling like this everyday. This being a light, giddy feeling that casts a protective bubble over the two whenever they share a space together. The feeling that has since replaced the fear that once left her helpless and unmoving.

Azzi thinks she can get used to Paige loving her. It’s like a warm blanket that feels like home. Her eyes are soft and her Azzi smile is a permanent fixture on her beautiful face. The brown-haired girl thinks about all the ways they can be more intertwined than they already are. She thinks about seeing her stuff in the bathroom and moving clothes into each other’s closet. The younger girl imagines mini bottles of gatorade next to her water in the refrigerator. She imagines blonde strands of hair tickling her while she’s sleeping and never having any sense of personal space because Paige is a 6’0 baby. 

At the same time, she imagines not having any of it. That feeling of discontentment that had once wormed its way into her heart is back. It’s a bitter and heavy feeling that makes Azzi shift in discomfort. That terrifies her and suddenly she realizes that not having Paige is scarier than anything she could possibly imagine. Maybe the thought of losing Paige is what paralyzingly scarred her. 

Though as she lays on the couch, on the brink of sleep, she thinks of how fate brought them together from miles away. She thinks being scared means that this is something worth having. 

Paige is worth having. 

-

Azzi is broken from her daydream by the sound of her door knob rattling. Paige is in her room dressed in an old shirt and shorts with hair that is still dripping wet from her shower. The blonde stands in front of the mirror while she begins to brush her hair and all the younger girl can do is watch. It takes a bit for her staring to capture Paige’s attention but when it does, the blue-eyed girl immediately turns to her friend. 

“What’s wrong?”

The brown-eyed girl feels like a fish out of water. A wave of emotion engulfs her and it’s too much but not enough all at the same time. There’s love and longing and admiration that swim so deep in her heart and mind that she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind before she even realizes it. 

“I love you.”

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[itsquakey]

The really really dumb Kirby weapon theory/prediction plus the ramblings of a crazy person

After putting this aside for a while despite bringing it up a couple times I am finally putting together this stupid theory I've had since Forgotten land came out. The weapons that the mage sisters have always been on my mind thanks to the fact that I personally think they're a very small reveal of what's to come about a tiny detail of the future.

To start-the three mage sisters each have their own weapon they use.

Zan Partizanne has a Partisan, Flamberge has a Flamberge, Francisca has a francisca (actually it's a double headed axe but we will refer to it as both here).

Nothing really special.

Though my interest in these weapons changed with The forgotten land and Elfilis. Elfilis also wields a partisan. This kinda piqued my interest? Out of all weapons they choose one this boss would share with someone else? Knowing how this series (unfortunately) works the similarity is likely on purpose. So basically what I'm saying is the next two final bosses in the next mainline series entries will be wielding a flamberge and a francisca/double headed axe. I also believe that the next two bosses will be of 'different matter' as apposed to void termina's dark matter and whatever you wanna say Elfilis is. I also believe Morpho will be after those fellas as well. Wouldn't make sense for it to stop at Galacta and Elfilis, and since it seems to be...somewhat friendly with Kirby? Enough to allow Kirby to have some of its power with the Morpho upgrades. I doubt it'll be after them anytime soon. If anything I think their relationship with Kirby will be similar to Kirby's relationship with Meta.

I have a few ideas as well but they're kinda just. Theories without substance.

Morpho could be after the four heroes of yore. Taking Galacta (who we know is a hero of yore), Elfilis (A harder thing to prove, we never saw them using heart spears), and wherever the other two are if they're still alive. A better theory would be that Morpho happens to respond to changes in the air when galaxy-threatening level things show their face and deals with them itself. Or maybe Morpho follows Kirby around because it knows trouble is drawn to the kid. I still really like the idea that Morpho IS Galacta. That's why they look similar(ish). Maybe Morpho/Galacta is out for revenge or something. But it's Kirby. We have not idea what is happening anyway.

Another theory is that the three weapons of the mage sister reference the other three weapons used by the heroes of yore. Galacta has his lance, then one would have a partisan, one a flamberge, and one a francisca/double-headed axe....Is what I would say if it wasn't for the concept art book. There's a part in the book that has an unusual emphasis on three weapon designs. I just noticed it as I write this, and it's interesting.

The double-headed axe, the Partisan, and the bow and arrow. No other weapon Void Termia uses gets this treatment. These also could be the weapons the three other heroes used. There's a weird absence of a lance though maybe that's on purpose. I kinda like the idea that we only know Galacta was a hero, and the other three are left unknown with only their weapons proving their existence. I wonder though if there's a reason we only know for sure who one of the heroes was. Either they're just making shit up as it goes or they have an idea of what they want to either.

TLDR: I think the next final bosses will either use the two other weapons of the mage sisters or the two weapons we see Void Termina use. (Elfilis already has the partisan)

Either way HAL please hire me I need that game in the past about the ancients with Galacta as a main character and I can make it for you I swear.

[shalomsexual]

MILF HUNTING

Episode 1

Spy Au!

Warnings: G!P Reader, table sex, cream pie, Shalom being a bit of a brat, mentions of breeding.

In the midst of the chaotic meeting in the conference room of the organisation, there st Shalom, dressed in a black loose dress, her silky hair cascading down her shoulders. Seated in her lap was a four year old girl, who mimicked the expression of her mother; calm. These meetings were of no strangeness to Shalom as she's had been attending them for years. Way before she got pregnant with her little girl.

Paradeisos was known for having the best spies around the world, but there was two who stood out, Vixen and Rogue, or better yet known as Y/n and Shalom.

The tension between you two was as thick as a knife, with both of you always competing against each other. Of course whenever Shalom's daughter was around, there was no sign of rivalry between you two. The said woman didn't want her daughter to think she was disliked by anyone. However, it wasn't the case for you. You har practically loved Shalom, but knowing she had a daughter meant the father was in the picture- or so you thought.

"Van Peere is corrupting the peace of Discity yet the officials aren't acting. We cannot just sit around and do anything." One of the head of Paradeisos spoke.

"Van Peere is a dangerous man. We do not have the agents capable of taking him down." The other head replied. Shalom's eyes darted back and forth with a small smile as she watched the two heads bicker.

"Mama. What's going on?" Her daughter's innocent question snapped her out of her trance.

"Sweetheart, they're discussing important matters. You see, there's a bad guy who's trying to destroy our city and it's up to us to stop them."

"Well why aren't you stopping him?"

"Oh darling you're so full of questions aren't you?" The little girl giggled in response before cuddling more into Shalom. As the bickering went on, the said woman decided to intervene with an idea she's been plotting all this time.

"Allow me to input my thoughts will you?"

The two heads looked over at Shalom before nodding briefly.

"Proceed."

"As mentioned, Van Peere is an influential man; one filled with power. If we do not step in now, it will be too late. I volunteer to step in as the main carrier of this mission."

A brief moment of silence was there until one of the heads broke it. "Not bad however, you are currently injured due to your last mission. We need you in full effect if we're going to expect success."

"I agree but you two are forgetting something. We still have agent Rogue with us. She's currently away but will be back tonight. I reckon that these two will surely bring success."

It wasn't something new for the female head to always have your back. She loved the way you carried out your missions and your disguises are always hard to see through. After some contemplation, Shalom agreed. Once the mission details were all set, she waited for your arrival in the night.

Stepping out of the helicopter, you hastily approached the heads. "What's this I hear about Van Peere?"

"Right on time. We will brief you on the mission shortly. Go take a rest." Despite the urgeny of the situation, your leaders always wanted you to get rest as they needed you to fulfil any mission with utmost efficiency.

After a short rest, you sat in the meeting room as they unloaded the details of the mission on you. Immediately you knew it would be a tough one since none other than Shalom will be working. The biggest distraction you can ever face. "You two will leave tonight. He's hosting a Gala this afternoon and luckily for both of you, he's got open positions available. I've managed to snag interviews with him. His recent bodyguard was killed by him so Agent Rogue will be applying for the position. Agent Vixen will apply as his personal secretary since she's on maternity leave."

A personal bodyguard and a personal secretary. It doesn't seem so bad. "He will definitely test both of you so act with caution. You leave tonight."

And as the conclusion had approached, it was only the two of you. Heavy silence was weighed upon you until a little voice broke out. "Mama! Are you really leaving again?" Looking at the little girl, you smiled as Shalom picked her up.

"Oh sweetheart mommy's sorry but yes. You'll be okay with Clyde and Cynthia. Be good okay?" The small child nodded before Shalom rocked her to sleep. Once she was asleep, the maids took her to her room.

"It's hard having to leave her for days without ak explanation why." Shalom spoke, her voice like silk.

"Ah. She'll understand some day. She's smart and patient so that's something you should be glad for."

"Intelligence and Patience are two key things one must grow up with but, guidance from her mother is what she needs. You would understand if you had one, wouldn't you?"

"I don't know. I don't have one so I'm not sure if I'll understand." You smiled, enjoying the small huff that left her.

"Always the smart one aren't you?"

"Intelligence is key."

"Stupidity is more present in you anyway." Now it was her turn to smile at the slight agitated look on your face. "Let's not delay. Our jet awaits us."

Shalom strutted forward, her hips swaying in her loose dress. You grabbed your bag and headed towards the jet that soon took off to your destination. Taking a deep breath, you braced yourself for the upcoming mission, your nerves all over the place. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, having Shalom by yourside but seeing the challenging glare she gave to you made you want to put her in her place and that's exactly what you're going to do.

"O-oh my you're very rough..." Shalom moaned breathlessly, her hands gripping the front of your shirt as you sucked on her neck, subtly grinding against her core. How did you end up in this position?

It started at the party that was hosted by Van Peere. The parry screamed elegance as the guests were all dressed in suits and dresses. Shalom wore a beautiful white long sleeved silk dress that hugged her figure perfect. She looked as beautiful as she did before she had her daughter and it made your breath get knocked out.

All throughout the party, she was throwing hints, trying to get you riled up and jealous. Your feelings to her were no stranger as you had a bit of trouble hiding your jealously throughout the years of working with her. And you had enough of her relentless teasing so you did exactly what you had to do.

"I can't help it. You look ravishing, especially with the way you looked tonight."

"Oh? And what if it wasn't you who I dressed up for?" She raised an eyebrow, clearing testing your patience.

"I don't care who you dressed up for. All I know is that I'm going to be the one taking this dress off tonight. Now turn around for me."

Shalom smiled coyly. "What if I don't want to?"

"You talk to much."

"Then make me shut up."

You grinned before lifting her ontop the table in the storage room of Van Peere's mansion before pulling her dress off, exposing her succulent breasts to you. You leaned forward, attaching your lips to her breasts as she let out a sharp gasp, her hand immediately tangling in your hair. "Hmm, your mouth is just amazing~"

Grinning, you shifted the attention to her other boob while your finger rubbed circles on clothed clit, making her instinctively buck her hips into your hand. "So eager and needy aren't you?"

She whined softly, locking her legs around your waist. "Please please.. fuck me." As she begged, she hurriedly took off your pants and boxers, seeing your hard cock spring free from it's confinements. Shalom wrapped her hand around your length before slowly stroking it while your hand worked to remove her panties. Once there were no barriers between you two, you gripped the tip before rubbing it through her folds, lubricating it in the process.

"Ready?"

"Always."

With a sharp intake of breath, you slowly inserted the tip of your cock inside, watching as her pussy stretched the accommodate the girth of your head. Shalom threw her head back as you eased the rest in, moaning softly at the feeling of being penetrated after a long time. She tightened around you, the feeling almost foreign. "Fuck you're so tight Shalom..." you breathed out, your hand holding her leg up as you slowly began to move. Shalom let out a series of curses under her breath, head hanging back as her body moved along with yours.

"Faster...faster please." She moaned, using her legs to pull you deeper. You groaned, looking at her with hazy eyes as you began to increase your thrusts. The table rocked with movements as you gritted your teeth as you tried your hardest to hold back but looking at the goddess sprawled out before you, why waste such a precious opportunity to fuck her brains out?

And with that conclusion you began to slam your hips body, the tip of your cock kissing her cervix as she let out a scream that was quickly covered by you. "Shh you don't want Van Peere to find us fucking in his storage room now would you?" You smiled coyly, seeing her glossy eyes and the rosy hue on her cheeks.

"N-no fuck... you're so big baby... harder... give it to me harder. I want you to breed me, fill me up until it's leaking darling." Your eyes widened at the words that spilled from her mouth. With a smile, you pistoned deep inside her pussy, feeling a knot form in your stomach.

"I'm cumming...fuck I'm cumming hard!" Shalom shouted, her hips moving as she chased her sweet release. Shalom clenched tightly around your cock, her body going limp as she squirted hard, the forcing nearly pushing you out but you still continued pounding her, her juices continued to gush like a waterfall.

With a final slam, you buried yourself to the hilt, ropes of cum shooting inside of her. She squeezed her eyes shut at the feeling of something warm filling her insides. "Fuck.." you shivered as you slowly pulled out, watching your combine juices leak out of her gaping hole.

"Hmm would you look at that?" She grinned, parting her pussy lips as more cum gushed out. "Looks like a stuffed pie to me no?"

You smiled before lifting her up and helping her put on her clothes. "How about we ditch this party and head on back to our suite?"

"What about our mission, Agent Rogue?"

"Fuck the mission... for now. What I'm really interested in is showing you what a stuffed pie really looks like." With a sly smile, you and Shalom went back to your suite where you continued your ministrations. It was a night filled with passion, lust and an untold love but most importantly, a stuffed and filled Shalom.

[explosionshark]

DA2 rivalmances are so weird and fun. Is that a thing in, like, any other game or is it just a DA2 exclusive relationship type?

As far as I know it's a DA2 exclusive? Which is a shame, but then a lot of things about DA2 follow the same pattern of really cool compelling feature that Bioware never did again

I know you came to the series late, but I've been here since DAO WEEK ONE, BABEY!!! So I'll praise/lament some of my fave DA2 features a bit here with some context

So, the turnaround time on this game's development was notoriously insanely short. Like 18 months or less? Massive, brutal amounts of crunch - this is one of the reasons the game suffers from a lot of reused maps/environments/assets and why a lot of encounters feel the same. Critics and the audience tore the game APART for this, but given the circumstances under which the game was made like! What else did you expect! It didn't help that Bioware's publisher EA was a huge target of criticism from gamers at the time too. This all took place only a couple years before Gamergate (catalyzed by another Bioware/EA title) would take off so the environment for games critique was already pretty rancid.

The game was also criticized for the art style changes and the pivot to a more action-y style of combat compared to the more plodding traditional heavily strategic and dice-roll based CRPG inspiration DAO drew on.

The game was lambasted for being rushed and sloppy - in some places the hate was REALLY volatile. I think backlash sort of influenced the approach they took to later games which is a shame because despite (or maybe in some cases because of?) the limitations DA2 suffered, it produced easily some of th coolest ideas in a Bioware game that I wish they'd go back to

Setting- For one, I think focusing on a single location has really really cool narrative potential. I think we see the best version of this in a game like Cyberpunk 2077 which takes place in a single city and it's surrounding environments but goes really deep on them. Obviously the version of Kirkwall that exists in DA2 is not particularly deep or richly detailed, but I think iterating on the concept of focusing the game around a single location could lead to some really great storytelling opportunities

Companions- I also really enjoyed focusing on a relatively smaller cast! Four love interests romanceble by any player and a couple more ancillary companions was a cool move, actually. Again I think the benefit in revisiting this is the option for depth. Also in terms of criticism I'm sure it will not shock you that many people took issue with all bi love interests. "Playersexual" was thrown around a lot. I think there are some valid criticisms to be had about some of the writing choices and what could have been done better but frankly it was 2009 I was just happy to be able to pick between two girls.

Protagonist - I think Hawke is an incredible protagonist. One of the things some fans complained about was being locked into a race/background after Origins let you go wild, but I think in the end this choice worked to DA2's considerable advantage, narratively. I think having Hawke be a little more defined allowed for stronger story moments - Hawke's family being such a motivator and so tied into so many key plots was so key in the emotional connection I made to the PC (something I never quite managed to do with the Inquisitor but that's a Me thing).

Timespan - I WISH more games would do a framed narrative like this over such a long span of time. Seeing the characters relationships grow over time, having your environment impacted by your choices, all felt like it added such a good layer of depth to everything. It felt like it enabled both relationship and individual character arcs to feel meaningfully larger in scope than a lot of similar games

Story guardrails - another thing some people disliked bc it fucked with their power fantasy but I don't care - I love that there's failure built into Hawke's story. There are some people you can't save. Some betrayals you can't avert. Some losses you can't avoid. These story beats hit so much harder for me knowing they're unavoidable. It adds this compelling air of tragedy to Hawke as a hero that feels way more personal than other Bioware protagonists to me, because the losses happen through all stages of the story and they all cut so close to the bone

Scale - I think DA (all Bioware games but DA especially) suffers in a huge way from each entry in the story having to have higher stakes than the last. At some point being the mythic hero saving the world gets old to me. I loved that DA2 was just about some guy and their fuck up friends trying to survive while terrible things happen to and around them. I'm repeating myself I know but that kind of smaller scale, more deep and personal storytelling is so cool to me

So! That's effectively my absolutely hopeless wish list for a future Bioware RPG. Or an RPG from anyone. Give me a smaller setting with fewer characters and a protagonist who doesn't win all the time and let me go hog wild. Please.

[crushedsweets]

I fear to stain your clothes with blood; Stain them, I don't care 'Eyeless' Jack Nyras in Creeped: PRESENT DAY

PT. 1: BACKSTORY General disclaimer: This AU is an amalgamation of headcanons, fanon, canon, and the occasional rewrite. There is an overarching story that HEAVILY strays from their canon stories.

PROXIES

➣This life became Jack’s reality for nearly a year. He would spend days completely unconscious, until he suddenly wakes up to a new crime scene. Every time, the taste of iron lingered in his mouth, even long after he washed his sins at a nearby river.

➣In rare moments of clarity, Jack tried to find himself. Sat anxiously at the river, scrubbing away at his rapidly changing body.

➣Black, hard keratin began to form on the tips of his fingers, of which the nails were torn off months ago. They resembled claws, only adding to Jack’s struggle. His ears seemed to stretch to a point and resemble bats, but he was still adjusting to the echolocation. While he got the gist of his general shape, he was almost grateful that he couldn’t see himself. 

➣The echolocation was pretty helpful, too. He had four pesky stalkers constantly on his ass. The most frequent two were pretty troublesome. One was quite small, but she was fast. By the time Jack realized she was in the area, she was already on him. Luckily, he was able to fling her off. It’d lead to a frustrating chase of her constantly attaching herself to him and him throwing her off, until something shifted in her and she retreated. For her, it was about persistence.

➣The other frequent stalker was odd. Jack would be miserably eating a raw deer, until he clicked his tongue and realized that one was hiding in a tree. His stalker had climbed through the branches. While Jack thought it was goofy, that stalker had terrifyingly accurate aim and power behind his throws. Jack was frequently assaulted with a hatchet to a limb or his back, and while the flesh would quickly knit itself back together, this stalker was more persistent than the other. 

➣For a damn year, this went on. Jack was barely a human. He became a local cryptid in the Tuscaloosa forest, and the proxies were beyond pissed about it. They didn't want more attention on this damn forest. He caused so much trouble, and he bruised Toby’s ego while doing it. 

➣Toby just got lucky one day. Jack had spent nearly a month fully conscious, the entity seeming to release his body entirely. He was in full control of himself once again, but it meant very little when he had no idea what to do with himself. 

➣He pathetically sat at his river, his keratin-coated fingers resting beneath the softly rushing water. He knew Toby, whose name he heard yelled amongst his stalkers, was watching him. Jack just chose not to do anything about it. He washed his hands and tried to relax in the water. When that familiar hatchet came barreling his way, he didn’t even hesitate. His hand reached up and he caught it by the handle. The second hatchet came and he caught it once again. His head didn’t even turn. 

➣He heard the same exasperated, angry shout from Toby. “What the hell is your problem, dude?!”

➣Jack’s ears perked up. He turned his head to face Toby, more as a formality. “My problem…?”

➣His voice was deep and horse. At this point, Toby’s voice was more familiar than his own. It startled both him and his stalker. So of course, Toby had to ask, “You can talk?”

➣Although hesitant, Toby made his way to Jack. The monster of a man never tried to hurt him or the others before, he mostly fought to defend himself. And Jack wasn’t concerned, he still held Toby’s hatchets. Jack offered a weak explanation of his situation, leaving major details out. He didn’t say Jenny’s name or bring up their relationship. Just mentioned a club, the torture, and his new body. 

➣Toby connected some dots for him. Explained the issue of Slenderman, the Operator, and Zalgo. They went back and forth, with Toby poking fun at Jack’s somber, stoic attitude. It seemed that Jack’s body purged itself of those entities, an unclear anomaly for the proxies.

➣Toby thought Jack was really cool. And figured he could be useful, too.

JACK’S ROLE

➣Jack was brought to the proxy cabin by Toby, much to the frustration of Tim and Brian. Jack was dirty, bloody, and uncomfortable as Toby bickered back and forth with the older men. It didn’t help that Brian was currently dealing with a nasty wound in his thigh, further amping up the frustration and fear between the group.

➣Toby insisted Jack was alright. He was big, he was strong, he had scary instincts. Tim repeatedly declared that he’s dangerous and useless to their job as proxies. He caught wind that Jack’s attention was geared towards Brian, who was propped up on the couch and bleeding onto it. A pathetic excuse for a tourniquet was wrapped around his thigh, and it got Tim riled up. ➣He shouted at Toby to get Jack out of the damn cabin, implying that some sort of monstrous instincts were bound to overtake Jack, especially with a bleeding man before him.

➣Jack finally spoke up. He defended himself quietly at first, saying he wasn’t staring because he was hungry. He was staring because of how poorly the tourniquet was done. The men were all a little taken aback by this, with Brian sarcastically asking if Jack could do better. 

➣Jack could, and tentatively, they let him. They let him explain his situation again, and with their understanding of his inhumanity and half-completed graduate degree, they realized how good of a problem this could be. They could take advantage of it, despite Tim's apprehension.

➣Jack was designated the ‘proxy medic.’ He was ushered to a small, one-bedroom cabin with a tiny bunker beneath it. He was given permission to live peacefully in the forest, away from public scrutiny, if he just took care of the proxy’s wounds.

➣It was a nice little place. Sure, it was dusty and bothered his heightened senses for a while, but Toby helped him tidy it up. The furniture was old and Toby had to drag an old mattress from a thrift store to replace the rotting one at Jack's cabin, but it worked out.

➣The bunker was a bit shameful for Jack. They managed to get large fridges hooked up down there, giving Jack the opportunity to keep himself fed over longer periods. It made the whole arrangement safer for everyone.

JACK'S RELATIONSHIPS

➣He eventually found himself settled comfortably in his cabin. Toby was the main visitor for a good period of time, until new faces began popping in and out. 

➣Kate ‘the Chaser’ was the second most frequent visitor, though she was commonly dragged behind Toby. She very rarely came on her own, unless her situation was dire.

➣Eventually, he began meeting people just as weird as himself. A girl who insists her name is Clockwork, tall and lanky and snappy. A pair of short guys came shortly after, one constantly littered with wounds that Jack would stitch up. He’d bring Jack meals as payment. Jeff and BEN were their names, who heard of Jack through Clocky. Eventually, a pretty young woman on Toby’s arm came by frequently. Nina was all over Jack for a few weeks, until she eventually settled down and their friendship could become steady. Some days, he walked another eyeless college student named Lulu back to her hospital.

➣Albeit appreciative, none of these friendships filled the ache. Jack grew up family-oriented. He grew up with so many little siblings to take care of, and he spent a year fantasizing about a family with Jenny. He was riddled with too much shame to return home.

➣It wasn’t until a little demon girl came kicking and screaming into his life. Lazari was the daughter of Zalgo, the same entity that took over his body for nearly a year. Just like him, the proxies were hunting her, and just like him, she evaded every attack. 

➣Jack was able to reason with her. He caught her sniffling and crying. He brought her into his arms and into his home. He made her dinner, brushed her long brown hair, and told her it would be okay. They were like siblings, weren’t they? Both were made this way by the same demon.

➣From here on out, Jack’s dedicated himself to Lazari. Quickly, Lazari filled the role of a little sister. 

➣If Lazari could be just as monstrous as him, and yet filled with so much love and life…

➣Maybe Jack could be alright with his wavering humanity, too.

[perkwunos]

Throughout the campaign, Trump has proven himself obsessed with two ideas: exerting personal control over the federal government, and exacting “retribution” against Democrats who challenged him and the prosecutors who indicted him. His team has, obligingly, provided detailed plans for doing both of these things.

This process begins with something called Schedule F, an executive order Trump issued at the end of his first term but never got to implement. Schedule F reclassifies a large chunk of the professional civil service — likely upward of 50,000 people — as political appointees. Trump could fire these nonpartisan officials and replace them with cronies: people who would follow his orders, no matter how dubious. Trump has vowed to revive Schedule F “immediately” upon returning to office, and there is no reason to doubt him.

Between a newly compliant bureaucracy and leadership ranks purged of first-term dissenting voices like former Defense Secretary Jim Mattis, Trump will face little resistance as he attempts to implement policies that threaten core democratic freedoms.

And Trump and his team have already proposed many of them. Notable examples include investigating leading Democrats on questionable charges, prosecuting local election administrators, using regulatory authority for retribution against corporations that cross him, and either shuttering public broadcasters or turning them into propaganda mouthpieces. Trump and his allies have claimed unilateral executive authority to take all of these actions. (It remains unclear which party will control the House, but Republicans will be in charge of the Senate for at least the next two years.)

Ultimately, all this executive activity is aimed at turning the United States into a larger version of Hungary — a country whose leadership and policies are regularly praised by Trump, Vice President-elect JD Vance, and Project 2025 leader Kevin Roberts.

...

While the form of subtle authoritarianism pioneered in Hungary was novel in 2010, it’s well understood today. Orbán managed to come across as a “normal” democratic leader until it was too late to undo what he had done; Trump is taking office with roughly half the voting public primed to see him as a threat to democracy and resist as such. He can expect major opposition to his most authoritarian plans not only from the elected opposition, but from the federal bureaucracy, lower levels of government, civil society, and the people themselves.

This is the case against despair.

As grim as things seem now, little in politics is a given — especially not the outcome of a struggle as titanic as the one about to unfold in the United States. While Trump has four years to attack democracy, using a playbook he and his team have been developing since the moment he left office, defenders of democracy have also had time to prepare and develop countermeasures. Now is the time to begin deploying them.

Trump has won the presidency, which gives him a tremendous amount of power to make his antidemocratic dreams into power. But it is not unlimited power, and there are robust means of resistance. The fate of the American republic will depend on how willing Americans are to take up the fight.

[chimivx]

That one fucked you over last year, this one is fucking you over this year, you had no idea she was involved with him, someone over here has been lying to you, you didn't mean to end up in that ones bed, he told you he loved you... Does anyone even trust anyone anymore?

👫 -> college!teez x fem!reader/oc {frat/sorority} #️⃣ -> 6k (part THREE of ten) ‼️ -> 18+, sexual content, drugs/alcohol, college life, all the drama, heavy angst, infidelity adjacent moments, mean boys, mean girls, mentions of anxiety/depression… IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

march 9th ~ saturday ~ last semester ~ 2:39 p.m.

“Do it like this instead.”

Tori’s quiet voice filled the air in the corner of the library you occupied. Around one of the black metal tables on the second floor of the Conoscenza you were surrounded by open books, notes, loose sheets of random paper blowing around, and a plethora of pencils and highlighters. Smack in the middle of the semester, with spring break less than two weeks away, it was crunch time. Grades needed to be high, you were about to be the upperclassmen of ITZ, and you needed to impress the current upperclassmen of ITZ.

Leaning over the blonde boy slouched over the table to her left, Tori laid an arm over his back for reassurance and took his pencil from him, marking some things on his paper that made his pout disappear. He stared at what she did, blinked a number of times, and sat up with a sense of shock. Gulping, he reached out his hands and grabbed her face, pulling her close for an abrupt kiss before he let her go to finish his work.

Tori, with a giggle, wiped the corner of her lips and shoved his shoulder, though he wasn’t paying attention any longer. “You’re crazy.”

Mingi turned his head from where he had it hanging over his book and shot her wicked smile. “You’re hot.” She had to slap her hand over her mouth to keep her laughter from echoing against the walls throughout the space. 

Shaking your head while you marked your paper, you kept your smile to yourself. Their relationship had been the best thing to come out of Nasara thus far in the almost two years you’ve been here. In fact, joining ITZ and meeting the ATZ boys from the brother fraternity down the street from the sorority had been the best thing to come out of Nasara.

The classes were great, sure, and the campus was stunning, yes, but those boys… They were something else. 

Yunho joined the fraternity this year, he and Seonghwa were freshman recruits last year just like you and Tori were. Mingi was as well, but he and Tori didn’t meet until recruitment was over and the sibling houses had the annual dinner. The look on their faces when they both realized they had the same last name… Priceless. They were close in an instant.

Turns out Yunho and Mingi were inseparable as well. Those two met freshman year, sharing a requirement class like you and Yunho had. Mingi was majoring in marketing like you and Tori, which made total sense for his involvement in the fraternity, quickly acquiring his role as Social Chair like Tori. The two had the brain power and the creative ideas on hand, they could whip them out of thin air, the roles were made for them.

Yunho was majoring in history, the type of major that’d have girls nodding off on the ATZ couches if he started yapping about it. Not you though, you quite enjoyed listening to the gorey details of why the world is the way that it is today, he had a specific way of telling it like a story, his own passion for the subject evident in his honey brown eyes. Some nights he’d call you if his homework sparked the verbal throw up, apologizing for the two o’clock wake up call, but I have to tell somebody about this or I’ll freak the fuck out!

He was at the ATZ house right now, having turned down the study and homework sesh invite Tori sent out to the group chat the four of you have. Something had come up with Mina, one of the ITZ freshmen recruits. They were getting coffee after her afternoon class, or something like that. It seemed like an excuse to ditch another hang out you girls orchestrated, he’d always show up to one, then wiggle his way right out of another.

Within the last couple of months since everyone’s been back from winter break the two of them have been closer than they were at the start of the year. Granted, they didn’t know each other until Mina attended the dinner after being recruited, so it’s plausible they’ve just grown toward one another since she’s been working with the sorority. It’s been great having Mina around, she was exceptionally smart and always on time. Always dressed nicely, she was cute too, you guessed. Her hair was always done, her nails were never chipped, and she was never caught lacking.

This is the third time he’s used her as an excuse to ditch you guys.

“Do you think Yunho likes Mina?” you asked, scribbling words at the very bottom of the page of your notebook, flipping it over to start fresh on the back of the sheet. Looking up at them, Tori and Mingi having gone very quiet, they were both looking back at you with squinted eyes. “What?”

“The freshman who always wears skirts?” Tori raised a brow, her eyebrow piercing catching the light from the large windows to your left. You nodded and Mingi let out a laugh.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” he said, catching a glimpse of Tori. “She’s exactly his type.”

“She is?” You scrunched your nose and Mingi rolled his eyes with a dramatic nod.

“Duh, hello,” he said, his raspy voice springing off the walls. “Have you seen her?” Exchanging glances with Tori who waited for an explanation as well, Mingi sighed. “She’s studying pre-law, she’s eighteen, she’s always in a skirt, she’s got that good girl look about her, and she works like he does.” 

Tori was speechless, her lips parting without a sound. Narrowing her eyes in thought, her gaze traveled to the table. “I get it,” she whispered.

“Okay?” you sneered, shrugging your shoulders. Leaning onto the table, slapping your pencil down, you said, “I study marketing, I’m twenty, and I work like he does.”

Mingi shook his head, eyes going wild. “Do you want a date with Yunho!?”

“No!”

Several heads turned toward your table shutting you and Mingi up. 

Taking a breath, you laughed within it and shrugged again. “He’s always ditching us for her,” you muttered. 

Tori frowned, tapping your foot with one of hers. “He’ll come around,” she said, trying to ease the obvious upsetness you were trying your absolute hardest to hide. “Let him have a crush,” her eyes flickered to behind you, “You know what that’s like.”

Hands covered your eyes, the world going dark for all of three seconds.

“Guess who?” That soft voice could lull you to sleep any night.

Taking his hands into yours, pulling them from your face you whipped your head over your shoulder and smiled up at the dark haired boy nibbling his bottom lip. When you met his gaze, his slender upturned eyes sparkling toward you, he laughed that wonderful laugh that fed your smile.

“What are you doing here?”

Wooyoung laced his fingers with one of your hands and slid into the empty chair beside you. Scooting it closer he rested an elbow on the table and let his cheek melt into his fist.

“I wanted to see you,” he said, pouting his lips, toying with the fingers he held. His soft skin sent a chill down your spine, his thumb tracing yours with a careful tenacity. “And I knew you’d be here with these two.” Nodding his head toward Tori and Mingi both focused on their work. Wooyoung pointed his gaze to your fingers before they popped back up with a question. “No Yunho?”

Sighing, you shook your head. “Mina.”

Wooyoung tilted his head the other way and his other hand slid over your thigh, his body leaning over yours. “Awh, I’m sorry,” he breathed, his voice so low neither of your friends would be able to make it out. His honey colored skin, smooth to the touch, was unbearable this close. The curve of his nose, his full, round lips, insatiable.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, and he furrowed his brows.

“Not okay,” he mimicked your tone. “You want me to say something to him?”

“No, God, please don’t.”

Wooyoung shifted his jaw. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you squeezed your eyes shut for a second, “Don’t make me one of those girls, please.”

One of his fingers touched beneath your chin. Opening your eyes to look at him, he smiled once he had your focus, and he whispered, “You’re my girl, Ro.”

september 6th ~ saturday ~ 2:41 a.m

Pulling the door closed ever so quietly, not making a single peep, a single squeak, you exhaled through your nose and twirled on your wobbly toes to start down the staircase. The mission was to find Tori, acquire Mina, wherever the hell she may have ended up, and then bolt the fuck out of ATZ until further notice. You’d make it down the stairs, gather your friends, and nobody would ever know that you were ever here!

Except Seonghwa.

Still drunk, you felt great. Really, really great. Like, you’d need to thank Seonghwa for the full body factory reset. Later on when nobody would hear you, of course. Vice President Seonghwa made you feel things you couldn’t make yourself feel. Your chest warmed at the thought of it like you hadn’t just had it for an hour.

Pushing air from your lips as you turned, an electric jolt went through every vein your body possessed, freezing you in place in seconds. Wooyoung was standing at the top of the stairs.

It looked like he was heading down, his body was partially turned around the post where the railing began and the stairs went down. He had a hand on the post, the other hanging by his side. He looked good, and it sparked that dreadful feeling in your gut, the I like this boy feeling. Dressed in all black, head to toe, black baggy t-shirt, big black acid washed denim jeans, black sneakers… His hair was awful, hanging loose in waves around his face, parted in the center, framing his insane profile.

He was devastating, and he took you by absolute surprise. Usually one would hear him before they saw him.

Judging by the way he was looking at you, you took him by surprise too.

He definitely wasn’t expecting to catch you sneaking out of Seonghwa’s bedroom tonight, much like you weren’t expecting anyone to be there to catch you sneaking out of Seonghwa’s bedroom tonight.

Taking the smallest breath, putting your hands by your side, you grabbed fistfuls of blue fabric. Wooyoung let his eyes drift down your body. When they came back up your cheeks were flushed, your heart beating a mile a minute. He was unreadable as usual. The way his eyes were always pointed made it hard to assume what was going on in his brain even if being under his gaze typically made you blush. 

This time, you did not like how it felt.

He didn’t move, and neither did you. 

Standing in the hallway for what felt like an eternity, it wasn’t until you heard noise from the bedroom behind you that you knew you had to leave. You needed to walk away, to get the fuck out of the house.

But, he’s caught you. The boy with the biggest mouth at ATZ.

You knew what you had done. Now that you’ve sweated out some of the drunkenness, you were fully aware of what had happened. You had sex with Seonghwa. Just this afternoon you were kissing Yunho. And, all week you’ve been indirectly lying to every one of your sisters you’ve spoken too, especially Tori.

Yunho was a secret, and he always will be. How hard could it be to keep another?

Parting your lips, you took a breath and swore Wooyoung’s eyes widened.

“Please don’t say anything,” you whispered.

It took him a few seconds to process. He seemed to retreat inside himself for a moment, his eyes glued to yours. Taking in your appearance once more, he gave you the smallest nod, and waved you down the stairs with the hand at his side.

Exhaling heavily you hurried past him, gripping the railing with a vengeance, attempting to barrel down the stairs as fast as humanly possibly. 

Halfway down, his voice shoved a knife into your gut. “Hey, Ro?” You paused and turned your chin, finding him leaning over the bannister, watching you. Without a change to his stoic expression, he sighed. “You look good.”

Oh, god. Oh god.

He didn’t deserve an answer. Whipping the other way you continued your pursuit down the stairs, ignoring the crinkling of your chin or the welling up of tears in your eyes. He wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

Though, you’re unsure if these tears were really for him.

The bottom of the stairs had a few boys sitting on them, a couple standing in front of them. They were laughing, a red cup or a can in all of their hands. None were recognizable, so you plowed through them, using the shoulder of a boy with dark cropped hair and a beautiful jaw to guide you through. A noise was shared between two of them, the one you grabbed and the blonde one he sat next to. You didn’t bother to look back.

Dozens more people must’ve arrived in your absence. Pushing down the hallway toward the kitchen you were chest to chest or chest to face with most, the eyes following you as you brushed past the sweaty bodies. The air was hazy now, and getting hazier the closer you got to the kitchen, and the smell grew stronger as well, which only meant one thing.

Turning into the kitchen you dodged a sophomore with a cup in his hand, his entire body turning to watch you rush to the back of the room. A couple girls were sitting on the island, a boy leaning against the counter across from them, his arms folded over his chest and he spoke arrogantly loud. Both girls seemed into him for the time being.

As you passed through the space between them you heard him mention he was a part of the fraternity, clearly lying to the girls twirling their hair around their fingers. When they showered him with praises of admiration, you paused and backtracked. The girls, definitely freshmen, looked down at you from where they sat, their eyes lighting up. They exchanged whispers of your name, and the boy two feet away from them shot you a scowl.

“He’s lying,” you said, complete deadpan. Looking at the boy, he could pass for a member, he had the muscles, the face, the aura… But, he’s failed to get through. He’s tried twice. Yunho warned you about this boy before. “He can’t get in.” If looks could kill he’d have you on the floor. You smiled, then turned to the girls who hadn’t looked away from you. Putting a hand to the side of your mouth, you said loud enough for everyone around you to hear, “Think his dick is too small.”

Together the girls giggled, and the way they fell into one another reminded you of you and Tori. They were adorable, and they seemed nice. Clearly they already knew who you were, so you took two steps closer to them and put on your best sorority sister face.

“Will I be seeing you two soon?” you asked. Sitting up straight, they both composed themselves and nodded. You made it a point to scope out what they were wearing, making sure they noticed, not that you cared. It was for the bit. The bait. Pull the freshmen in, make them want to stay. On the outside of it all it’s a mystery, but that’s the ploy. “Good,” you looked them in the eye and smiled. Taking note that the boy had hurried off elsewhere, you cocked your head toward where he was standing and cringed. “Do yourselves a favor… From experience, stay away from the boys.”

The girl with shorter black hair and the cutest button nose lifted her hand for a quick second, catching your attention for a few moments longer before you rushed away. “Is there anyone else from ITZ here?” Her eyes were full of hope, as were her friends. “We’ve been coming here almost all week hoping to see you guys.”

You popped your bottom lip, expressing your regrets. “We haven’t been around,” you said. Because our president banned us from coming here. “We’ve been… busy.” That wasn’t a lie.

The girl nodded. “Oh, okay,” she said, sharing a look with her friend. “We’ll see you soon, then!” Both girls put on their best face, one you returned.

“See you soon,” you said, and then you were off, weaving through the kitchen toward the table where the nightmare of this night began. 

“Vernon left, I told you already, listen dipshit.”

If you could hear him before you saw him that meant he was pissed.

Hongjoong stood behind a chair, his eyes flashing wildly around at the brothers and other boys sitting around the table. He looked nice, he typically did. He and Seonghwa were the two members to always show up and show out. Button downs, sexy slacks, impossible shoes and accessories to flash their money… He looked expensive, especially with his caramel hair pushed backward. 

Grabbing onto the shoulders of ATZ’s Treasurer, Jongho, a massive boy in a denim jacket, Hongjoong shook him and leaned down to whisper something in his ear, his eyes pointed across the table at a junior who liked to hang around at these parties. The crappiest rolled joint you’ve ever seen was being passed around from boy to boy, from mouth to mouth.

“He left because he wanted to,” Jongho said, hitting his president with a side eye. He was a sophomore like Mina, but with much, much bigger balls. No one messed with Jongho, he was ATZ’s main muscle. Kid didn’t fuck around.

“He left because he can’t fail a drug test, smartass,” Hongjoong hissed. 

When it came to Hongjoong though, Jongho obeyed.

Stretching across the table, half standing, he snatched the joint from between the juniors lips and jammed it on the table, putting it out. The moans, groans and protests from the crowd around them were agitating, and Hongjoong felt it too. It took one snap of his head around the circle for everyone to shut up. Jongho smirked and sat back in his chair, turning his head your way as you approached their side.

“Get up,” Jongho muttered to the boy in the chair beside him, nudging his shoulder and waving him away. “Up, go.” A warning filled his tone, one he only showed once before things took a physical turn. Most knew, and if they didn’t, they were gonna learn.

“Jongho, it’s okay,” you said, attempting to give him and his president a smile. Hongjoong tipped his chin backward and narrowed his eyes.

“The hell are you doing here?” He had a way of making someone feel so incredibly small without even trying.

The boy in the chair disappeared in seconds, but was sure to take a look at you before he stumbled elsewhere, flinching as Jongho nearly jumped out of his chair with a fist clenched.

“Sit,” the sophomore said, nodding to the chair. 

“I can’t,” you breathed, “I need to find Tori.”

Hongjoong remained unchanged. “Go find Mingi, she’s sure to be there,” he said, a curiosity pooling in his sharpened eyes. “What the hell are you guys doing here?” It was a genuine question.

“We… snuck out of the house,” you mumbled, and Jongho snickered.

“Is Yuna here?” Jongho asked, his straightened brows softening with his question. You answered him with a head shake and a tilted frown.

“Me, Tori and… Mina.” Her name came out of you in a whisper. Both boys snickered, their hands connecting to one another in some way. “I know,” you sighed.

“Yunho’s girl,” Hongjoong nodded, looking at you with a sharp turn of his head.

The words made your heart squeeze. “Yeah,” you pushed from your lips, flustered. “Yunho’s girl.” Jongho smirked.

“So, you’re here, and Yeji doesn’t know you’re here, and you’re not supposed to be here,” Hongjoong said, slapping a hand back to Jongho’s shoulder. The sophomore shot him his smirk, then it found you again. “I like this,” he said, matching his brother's face. “Where are you coming from right now?” Hongjoong nodded his head around, questioning your route.

“Why?” you asked, flickering your eyes from him to Jongho and back.

Hongjoong’s gaze traveled down your body some. His smile was small, then he shook his head. “Just wondering,” he said. “Tori’s in the living room with Mingi, Yunho and Mina.”

“Thanks,” you sighed, spinning around to exit the kitchen, missing the way Hongjoong looked at Jongho and tapped his neck, the amusement on their faces sparking laughter.

By the archway to the kitchen San stumbled inside completely shirtless with a boy beneath his arm equally as trashed as him. The two were mumbling to each other, smiling and giggling. Passing by, you grabbed Sans arm and gave it a squeeze. He looked up from his toy with his lip between his teeth, the knockout’s eyes drunk and utterly fucked.

“Aurora,” he slurred, facing you, bringing the boy with him. Taking a hand softly to your jaw he grinned, his head shaking, “I love you, I love you!”

Taking his hand in yours you returned it to him and smiled. “I love you,” you teased, leaning toward him. Glancing to the boy beneath his arm, the cutest blonde thing, definitely a freshman, you winked and started away from them. “Have fun.”

Yeosang was in the dark hallway just outside the kitchen, a girl inches shorter than him attached to his front with her hands on his arms. They were speaking things to each other only they could hear without a care that chaos ensued around them. The gentlest smile rested on his lips, the boy just as pretty as the one San was currently dragging around. One of his fingers pushed the girl's long brown hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. He was so entranced, he didn’t even see you pass by.

There was no time to say hi, you had to leave. Seonghwa probably made it back downstairs now, you were not sticking around to say goodbye.

ATZ’s living room was huge, much like the rest of the house. Through the archway to the right when one came in through the front door, it stretched all the way toward the back of the house in relation to the kitchen, separated by the hallway. Couches lived in the first section, crowded with bodies, male and female, either on top of one another or trying to get into whatever was happening on the inside.

This was the room the music blasted from. The boys got the speakers on the walls within the last two or so years, changing the game for every party to come. Lights dimmed in this room, everyone was lit up by the softest orange glow, making one squint to make someone out. Faces were blurry to you, and it’s partially because you were still drunk.

The air was sticky, hotter than the rest of the house, and everything smelled like beer or liquor. Making your way past the couches and hordes of bodies on them, you sunk through the more open archway into the second side of the living room where the tables of games were set up and the leather couches were pushed to the walls. Pushing through two guys who were moving opposite you, you clipped a shoulder on accident and whipped around to apologize, the tiny smile familiar.

“You’re good,” Vernon bobbed his head. His curly brown hair framed his forehead, his rich brown eyes peeking beneath it. “Tori’s in there, she was looking for you.”

“Thanks,” you said, then furrowed your brow. “Hongjoong said you left.”

Vernon rolled his eyes, huffing a laugh. “I’m going to my room. No one told me they’d be smoking. Just wanted Yunho to know where I was.”

Pouting your lips a bit, you said, “It was good to see you.”

His smile was charming, the most adorable smile of all ATZ. “You too, Ror. Tell Isla I’m thinking about her, okay?”

“Sure,” you nodded, and he was off.

“Aurora!”

A wave of comfort washed over you. Tori’s voice. Finally one you were fine with hearing.

Following the sound you found her beside Mingi in front of a table with red cups littered all over it, bottles laying on the floor around it. She had one in her hand and lifted it in the air as you hurried to her side. Bumping into Mingi’s chest, you latched your arms onto Tori’s and yanked her away from the table, her face screwing up in confusion.

“We need to leave,” you spoke over the music, both you and Tori nearly shouting at one another with how loud the chatter and music was. 

“What are you talking about?” she asked, sipping her cup. Her hair was flipped to the side, the waves looser, fluffier. “Where have you been? Me and Mina have been looking for you for like an hour!”

Mina.

“Where is she?” Avoiding her questions you picked your head up to search over her shoulder. Her boyfriend was at the table flipping cups, knocking drinks back like it was nothing, shouting at his friends and banging his fists on the flat top when his side of the table won. Behind the table Mingi commanded there was a couch, the leather one you were stuck to a few nights prior. Through the mass of people you could make out a little brown bob. “Come on,” you mumbled, grabbing Tori’s hand. 

She was throwing the questions at you again, telling you all about what she and Mingi have been doing and how much fun she was having, how happy she was to be back here. Pushing through a group of girls hovering by the end of the table, Tori made sure to let them know that Mingi was hers, passing by him with a kiss, grabbing a fistful of his hair, yanking him lower so he’d reach her lips. He parted from her with a whoop, pointing at her as she threw him a smile over her shoulder.

“When we came back down we found Yunho and Mina in here, and they said you left them,” Tori said, stumbling into your back as you redirected your path around the living room, avoiding the pong players.

Huffing, you shook your head and said, “This is Yunho’s house, I didn’t leave him anywhere.”

“What happened?” she asked, trying to turn you around. Pushing her hands away you shook your head again. “Aurora, you’re not okay.”

Whirling around, your hair falling into your face, you pushed it away with both hands and shot her a glare. “I saw Wooyoung.”

It was the first thing you could think of that was safe enough to get her off your case. Everybody knew about Wooyoung. He made the perfect alibi. No one would find out about Seonghwa. If people found out about Seonghwa, then Yunho would find out about Seonghwa. Sobering up now, none of this should have ever happened in the first place, and you regretted every second.

Somewhat.

“Oh,” Tori frowned, her brows softening above her big eyes. “I’m sorry. Did he say anything to you?” Clenching your jaw, you averted your eyes from hers for a moment, and opted for a headshake. “Did he see you?”

“Yeah,” you said, gulping, feeling a lump forming in your throat. “Tori, we…” She nodded, reaching for your hand, encouraging you to keep speaking. “We haven’t even been here a week and I feel like so much is fucked up.”

She tilted her head. “What do you mean? Wooyoung? Or, with the house?”

“Both,” you breathed, shrugging your shoulders a few times. “I'm so overwhelmed.”

Tori straightened out and held your hand tighter. “Okay,” she said, setting her gaze over to Mina on the couch next to Yunho. “Let’s go, we’ll leave. I’ll grab the kid, do you wanna head outside?”

“No,” you said, voice quiet. She glanced to the grip you had on her and then set off to the other side of the room, keeping you close by.

The sight of Mina hanging off of Yunho's lap was nauseating at best, you’re certain you turned green. Her hands were to herself, but he had one of his around her back, his fingers grazing the softness of her pink sweater. She leaned into him, but not too much. 

It totally gave prude. Sorry, Mina.

Yunho, wedged on the edge, angled toward her, had his other arm along the couch, moving it as he spoke. His lips were moving a mile a minute, and his eyes were darting about. He was talking about school. He was telling her a story, and she was listening, eyes full of stars as he made her laugh.

Those were your stories.

Everyone hated Yunho’s stories, they called him boring. You were the only one who liked them.

She wasn’t supposed to like them.

“Hey, Mina,” Tori said, catching both of their focuses, Yunho stopping mid sentence. They looked up at her with smiles, Yunho’s faltering when he found you cowering behind your best friend. “We’re leaving.”

“Oh, sure,” she said, glancing over to her boy who had his eyes stuck on you.

Sitting forward, taking his arm from Mina he stood up with her and came closer to you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his brows worried. “What happened?”

“Do I look that horrible?” You tried to laugh, but he wasn’t having it. 

“No, it’s just,” he paused, his eyes traveling down some of your body, eyeing the bare skin you were showing off tonight. All at once his energy shifted. His lips tightened ever so slightly, and his eyes flickered up to yours like you had slapped him across the face but Tori and Mina weren’t supposed to know. It was a quiet anger. “Nevermind,” he muttered, turning around.

“I’ll see you soon, I guess,” Mina said to him, having to tip her chin all the way up to look at him. “I don’t know when-”

He grabbed her face and kissed her.

Taking her by complete surprise, he cupped her cheeks, pressed his fingers up into her hair, and engulfed her lips with his own. Not once, not even twice. She melted into it, her entire body forming to his, her hands slipping around his back. You knew what these kisses felt like. You knew every thought going through her pure, little genius brain right now. He’s got her wrapped around his finger.

Just like you.

Tearing your hand from Tori’s you disappeared into the crowd, bumping into the pong table taking out a few cups. Pushing past people, physically pushing them, you bit down so hard on your bottom lip to keep from crying that you’re certain you drew blood. Flying past Mingi, he called after you, but you kept moving. Nothing was going to be able to stop you.

Through to the first half of the living room, you kicked cans with your feet, dodging bodies like it was your job. People who recognized you tried to stop you, tried to ask you what was wrong. The rage made you blind, made you deaf to anything other than your rampant mind, the thoughts that wouldn’t cease. 

Why the fuck did he do that?

In front of you? What the fuck happened?

Bolting out of the living room into the hall, you bumped face first into the chest of what happened. His arms caught you, and once he realized it was you, he dropped his hands.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I… Ror?” Seonghwa put his hands to your shoulders tentatively, dropping his chin to catch a glimpse of the tears streaming down your face. “What… What happened?”

“Hwa,” your words were jumbled, broken, a mess. “I don’t even know, I can’t think about it, he was in there with her, and he just, I don’t know…” You shoved your arms beneath his, wrapping them tight around his back. He slid his around your neck, one in your hair and the other over your shoulder. He let you cry.

Feeling him take a breath, he brought his lips to your ear and whispered, “Fuck him, Ror. He’s not worth it.” 

Turning your head to the side, you sucked down a breath and shook your head. “I can’t, I can’t… I like him. I like him a lot.”

Seonghwa sighed, his fingers dragging through your hair calming you down. “I know,” he whispered. “They’re coming this way, Tori and Mina.” Letting him go in an instant with a step backward, you looked up at him and he pouted his lips. His hair, slightly disheveled, was pushed to the side. God, he was gorgeous.

“I’ll see you,” you muttered, gesturing to the door behind him.

His eyes did the thing that Hongjoong’s did. The thing that Yunho’s did. And, he smiled. “Call me, okay?”

“Aurora?” Tori shouted from behind you, the two girls closing in on you.

Returning his smile, you nodded and wiped your cheeks. “Thanks, Hwa.”

He stepped aside for you to pass by, bowing his head as he did. “Anytime.”

september 6th ~ saturday ~ 5:13 a.m

Seonghwa sat on the edge of his bed, pulling his shirt over his head, kicking his shoes off. Shaking his hair out as he threw the button down on the floor, his eye caught on the piece of fabric it fell on top of. Taking himself over to it, unbuttoning his pants as he did, he lifted his shirt and picked up the piece of lace with one finger.

Aurora’s.

His door opened without warning. 

Closing his hand over the lace, the entire thing fitting in his palm, he lifted his head and shot the intruder a wild look. Yunho, shutting the door behind him, gave Seonghwa the nastiest look. Clearly there was a fire burning within him, the smoke pouring out of his ears as he took wide strides toward him.

Seonghwa didn’t flinch. Instead, he simply laughed at his question.

“Did you fuck her?” 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Yunho grit his teeth. “Rory,” he said. “Did you fuck her?”

Seonghwa, amusement in his eyes, wet his lips. “Why do you care if I did?”

“So you did,” he snapped. “You’re sick, Seonghwa, I saw her neck, you gave her that nasty ass hickey.” Seonghwa smirked, his teeth poking out from his lips.

He left his mark. That was his thing.

Messing with the panties in his hand, he shifted his jaw and thought to himself for a moment, then said, “I didn’t take you as a two timing jackass, Yunho.”

Incapable of holding his own in a match like this, Yunho blew air out his lips and shook his head. “What are you talking about? Rory’s a friend, I’m checking on her.”

“Are you?” Seonghwa raised a brow.

“I am,” Yunho nodded, taking one step closer. “She’s not gonna be one of your girls, Seonghwa, she won’t do that. You’re… weird, man. Putting that mark on them like they belong to you now, that’s sick.”

“Sounds like you’re a two timing jackass, Jeong,” Seonghwa said, voice so low it boiled Yunho’s blood.

“I am not,” he sneered. “She’s a friend.”

“Is she?” Seonghwa lifted his hands, taking the little lacey thong from his palm, hooking it on a finger. The way Yunho’s face shifted into a fit of blind rage made Seonghwa snicker. “Two timing jackass.”

He let him take it. Yunho snatched the lace from his hand and took three steps backward. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he exchanged a look with his higher up and sighed.

“What’d she tell you,” he said, quiet as ever.

Seonghwa started back for his bed, pushing his pants to his ankles as he did. “Enough,” he said, kicking his feet free. Rolling onto his bed he pulled himself beneath the blanket and searched for his phone. “She loves you, bro.”

He started to tap away at his screen, leaving Yunho to wallow in the shock himself. 

“No, she doesn’t,” he breathed, tiptoeing to the door, toying with the fabric in his hand. Seonghwa hit him with a side eye and scoffed.

“You’re an idiot,” he said. “She’s been in love with you for a long ass time, Yunho. That’s why Wooyoung dropped her, he couldn’t get through to her. Aurora was the first girl he’s felt something for, and he had to hurt her. You know, I’m not even sure she knows she’s in love with you. This makes you a two timing jackass. How long have you two been fucking?”

Yunho glanced at his feet. “May,” he admitted, and Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

“Well, congratulations, she’s spectacular,” he released a breath and focused back on his phone. “I can see why half of you are obsessed with her.”

With a hand on the doorknob, Yunho shook his head and pulled the door open. “Don’t ever talk about it.”

Seonghwa looked at him. “What, you and Aurora’s affair, or me nutting in her?” The smile that pulled at his lips made Yunho curl his.

“Both,” he snapped, and flew from his room, the door slamming behind him, leaving Seonghwa in pleasantly satisfied laughter.

NU home ✧ nice for what masterlist ✧ talk to me ✧ thank you for reading <3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[psychiatry-and-poetry]

Solace in the Seas

AO3 | Gwyn Week 2025 Masterpost |

@gwynweekofficial

Prompt: Day Four: Nymph - Magic of the Naiads (Gwyn is a quarter river nymph and the way she is described is akin to the Naiads in mythology, water spirits known for their healing abilities, grace, and their role as protectors of children. Do you think Gwyn inherited any water related powers? Could her connection to the river and her hauntingly serene presence hint at dormant abilities tied to the element of water? Let's explore.)

A/N: I pumped out this fic the day I was meant to post, hence why it’s slightly later than my normal posting time. Apologies for any typos or inaccuracies, I just wanted to get something written (that’s also why it’s kind of short)

Word Count: 1975

Gwyn exhaled, letting the sun warm her already flushed skin. It was a hot summer day in Velaris, with residents sitting by the Sidra, enjoying the beautiful weather or patrons in outdoor pubs having a mid-morning drink. Others were out shopping before the shops closed for the summer, but Gwyn’s attention was far from the city.

In fact, she was so far from Velaris that the city was barely a pinprick at the edge of her vision. If she squinted, she could make out the vaguest details of the Rainbow, but nothing more concrete than that.

She’d made up the shitty excuse that a distant aunt of hers wasn’t feeling well and that she’d been called to take care of her. Nesta and Emerie had both offered to come along, neither without their suspicions, but Gwyn had fed them enough white lies to tamp down their questions about how she had a memory disorder, and that it was a miracle if she could even remember her some days. It was dangerous for her friends to accompany her, Gwyn had insisted. She tends to get hysterical when overwhelmed. Really, it’s no problem. It had kept the two at bay, though barely.

Azriel and Cassian had seemed less convinced, but they didn’t argue with her request to take a day off. She was sure they’d sensed something amiss, but she’d deal with the aftermath later.

As for Merrill, she’d simply gone to Clotho and requested a day off. Merrill couldn’t stop her if she got written confirmation from the High Priestess herself. It had been her first ever voluntary time off that she’d requested from the Library, and Clotho hadn’t argued, simply signed the slip with her magical pen. Go, she’d written. Enjoy your day off. Cauldron knows you work yourself to the bone.

Gwyn had been overjoyed and had nearly embraced the older priestess with glee before she’d caught herself. She’d had enough decorum to utter a dignified “Thank you, High Priestess,” before scampering off and hastily packing a bag.

Now, as Gwyn stood at the edge of a lake, secluded from most Fae life, she was sorely overthinking her rash decision to come here. Granted, she’d debated this for a while, but the actual act of leaving was something she hadn’t been mentally prepared for. As it turned out, obsessing over her wish to leave the mountain and explore the world outside for herself wasn’t enough for her anxiety to abate.

She was going to have to leave at some point, right? She couldn’t be holed up her entire life. Of course, it didn’t make anyone else’s decision any less valid; those who wanted to live in the sanctuary and safety of the mountain were more than welcome to. But that wasn’t what Gwyn wanted to do. She’d always been a social person at her core; someone who loved exploring the outdoors.

Exploring the area around Velaris had seemed like a good idea, mostly because it was secluded so she’d avoid the possibility of running into strangers. A few years of interacting solely with the priestesses in the Library had done her social skills more harm than good, and she wanted a warm-up, a taste of what the world looked like in the years she hadn’t been fully part of it before she reintroduced herself to society again.

She’d even considered dragging her friends along at one point, then settled on the conclusion that this was her battle to fight. Not Nesta’s, not Emerie’s, hers. She had to become comfortable with the idea of dealing with her problems by herself. Asking for help was one thing, but she’d asked for enough help over the years.

Gwyn sat down by the edge of the lake, the shimmering cobalt waters putting her slightly at ease. No matter what she did, where she was, or what had happened, the ever-changing tides and currents had a way of reducing her anxiety so that whatever problems she had seemed far away and almost fantastical.

Taking a deep breath, she began her mind-stilling techniques in an attempt to calm her racing heart. When she had completed six rotations of her breathing exercises and the world didn’t seem like it was going to swallow her whole, she stood up and began undressing herself.

She stood in her undergarments a moment later, then grit her teeth as she stepped into the lake’s freezing water. Despite the sun overhead, the water felt like it had been sourced straight from the northernmost Illyrian Mountains. She was only up by her knees. She fought an involuntary chill, then made her way deeper. Waist. Gwyn kept going, in part because she was already in quite deep; in part because if she stopped, her body would lock up and she wouldn’t be able to move another inch. Chest.

A few moments later, when she’d stopped shivering and was submerged up to her neck, she waded into the centre of the lake, examining her surroundings.

Lush trees and greenery surrounded her as far as the eye could see; carpets of grass and wild foliage a welcome contrast to the darker trees that stood proud at the lake’s edge. Gwyn stood like that for a while, simply soaking in all that she’d missed. Despite her fears, it felt good to be out here again. Better than good. Freeing.

“We were wondering when you would ssssseek us out,” a voice crooned, breaking Gwyn out of her delightful reverie. A voice in her head told her that she should tread with caution, and yet Gwyn couldn’t bring it upon herself to be afraid. Unseen magical creatures were hardly signs of good fortune. But she was part naiad, after all. Which creature would harm a daughter of the seas?

“Who are you?” Gwyn asked into the seemingly empty air, though she sensed there were other figures lurking just outside her line of sight. She had an inkling (a pretty strong one, at that) but she wanted to be completely sure before she let her guard down. She wasn’t worried by any means, only on alert. It never hurts to be a little cautious.

“You know who we are,” it answered cryptically, the voice seemingly echoing from all around her.

“No. I don’t,” Gwyn answered. “I have a suspicion, but I’m not sure. I’d prefer it if you could confirm it for me.”

A raspy chuckle filled the silence after her response. “Very smart, kori. I see living away from the waters has all but sharpened that already witty mind of yours.”

Kori. The word sent a current of nostalgia through her, as sudden and unexpected as this entire trip. Daughter. It’d been years since she’d been called that. She hadn’t realised how much she hungered for that connection until it had reawakened.

Ignoring the sudden trip down memory lane, she asked again. “Will you tell me who you are now?”

Her question hung in the air for a moment before a figure surfaced in front of her, rising above the surface. Blue-green skin, azure locks, and fangs now leered at her. 

Instinctively, Gwyn bowed, sweeping her head low and giving the naiad a curtsy to the best of her ability despite being dressed in flimsy underthings. 

“Rise, kori.” It gestured to her with a bony hand, its spindly fingers and equally long, sharp nails at the edge of Gwyn’s vision. Her voice was far more grating up close.

“You’re not going to ask me why I’m here?” Gwyn ventured. “That doesn’t seem like the naiads I know.”

“You will tell us when you are ready,” it answered. “You have never been one to hide from us, and certainly not from the water. You trust us, and we trust that you know when to reveal whatever it is you wish to talk about.”

✦ ✦ ✦

Gwyn didn’t know how long she’d spent recounting the past few years to the naiad in front of her. They’d continued with small talk for a short while afterwards, until Gwyn had decided that enough was enough, and that she was going to address the elephant in the room, once and for all. 

Surprisingly enough, the naiad hadn’t been pushy or overwhelming. It had simply listened to her with rapt attention; never interrupting, never asking questions.

It was a different sort of comfort than the one that she’d got used to over the past few years with her friends and the priestesses, but it wasn’t foreign or unwelcome by any means. In fact, it was comfort and nostalgia all wrapped into one.

A part of Gwyn would forever remember how she’d spent her childhood by the lake, conversing and laughing with the local naiads. They had become her confidantes, almost as close as Catrin had been, and it felt wonderful to rekindle that precious, almost sacred connection again.

It brought back painful memories of her sister, yes, which were made even more painful by the fact that she was currently standing in a large body of water talking about her. Catrin had loved the waters just as much as she had. Gwyn felt a twinge of pain every time she entered the ocean. It was why she hadn’t been swimming in such a long time, denying even Nesta’s and Emerie’s requests on the particularly sweltering summer days when they’d insisted they take a dip. It had felt too personal, too close to home. She hadn’t been ready. Entering the waters after her attack had always been something she’d wanted to do on her own. In fact, Gwyn had spent multiple nights awake, wondering how the conversation with her sister might go.

But pain, like everything else; like grief, had to be felt. The only way out of it was through it. It was one of the many lessons she’d learned over the years; that healing had no shortcuts. It required work and practice and persistence, but it was all worth it in the end. It’d taken a while for that particular line to sink in, but when it had, she knew she wouldn’t forget it.

“You are brave, child,” the naiad said throatily once Gwyn had finished. “You have been through much. I foresee much happiness for you. Yes,” it continued at Gwyn’s quizzical expression. “Some of us possess the Sight. Not our brethren in the solar courts, but in Night, there are many who do. Believe me when I say that yours is a future filled with much light and joy. There are many opportunities for you in the future in all aspects of your life.”

“Thank you.” Gwyn bowed again at the hip instead of the conventional curtsy. It was tradition to accept a vision or blessing with a bow.

The sun had begun its descent through the sky by now, casting the area in hues of pink and golden. The foliage looked ethereal bathed in the dying evening light, the trees glimmering and the water having taken on an almost aureate hue. Velaris, on the other hand, was just beginning to liven up. It was, after all, the City of Starlight, and it came alive when its citizens did.

“I must be going,” Gwyn said hastily. “Thank you so much for being here and listening to me.”

The naiad smiled, though it resembled more of a sneer than anything with its indigo mouth and sharp fangs. “Come to visit us again, kori. We have missed you, and I am certain that being away from the waters for this long has not been an easy feat for you either.”

Gwyn smiled. “I’ll visit as often as I can.” Then, she began her trek back up to the House of Wind, the setting sun at her back, more satisfied and at ease than she’d felt in years.

The waters, of course, would always be there for her.

A/N: Kori in Greek means ‘daughter’, and since naiads are technically part of Greek mythology I thought it might be a fun little titbit to incorporate!

[ominous-horse-noises]

final finale thoughts!!

things i loved about the finale

QUEER GODDESS PATHEON YEAAAAAAH!!! i thought it was such a good way to find a happy medium between kristen committing to a worldview that felt authentic and nuanced without being catholic™ about it

everything to do with the scene of Ankarna trying to offer retribution to each of the bad kids, and each of them making peace with past wrongs instead of continuing to stew in it. i love growth!!!

FIG AND KRISTEN MIRRORING ANKARNA AND CASSANDRA

everything to do with mazey and fabian. of all the fantasy high couples aside from fidayda, these two feel the most like they make sense together- they have similar interests, they have similar values, fabian had a crush on her even when she was being 'uncool' (eg. twister) and how mazey actually picked up on that and appreciated the way he used his perceived coolness to extend it to others who might be picked on otherwise. this is the couple i most hope go the distance even post aguefort adventuring academy (again, aside from figayda ofc but i literally cannot imagine those girls breaking up over anything)

fabian's fetus sibling outnemesising him despite fabian building an animosity towards them the whole season before they were even conceived. peak fantasy high insanity

controversial but i thought the maryann/gorgug being introduced and canonised in all of 15 minutes was hilarious. it was very teen of them in a way that felt authentic. my ideal scenario for them is an end of year fling that becomes amicable exes bc they truly have nothing in common beyond thinking the other is hot (real of them) but i dont have a strong opinion on whether they should break up or not

also maybe controversial but i like that kalina is straight up bloodthirsty. she felt like an equal opposite to bakur- rather than being a devoted servant who became corrupted by proxy, she was trying to corrupt her deity into a form she preferred. thematically it extends to the complementary opposites thing ankarna and cassandra have going on (though i get it might be a reach).

"... thats a four. you know what it's for we don't have to talk about it"

squeem

riz coming in clutch with the character arc right at the last moment. i joked ab his neuroticism being part of his natural swag, but im glad murph not only made sure riz FINALLY addressed the way he was burning himself out, but also that by extension, he was burning out both fig and kristen bc riz has a very calculated idea of 'success' and while he had the best intentions, those two dont fit neatly into it

THE HOLD PERSON OVER THE LAVA??? RIZ'S 'very good on paper, but no practical application."??? i screamed

a second blimey-related divine intervention roll by K2 leading her to getting pinnochioed into a real straight british girl, in real non-dnd britain, is the best thing thats ever happened in fantasy high. a simulacrum was so powerful brennan had to do the dnd equivalent of sending her to a barn upstate.

adaine and aelwyn talking about killing their mother over icecream can be something that is so personal...

siobhan's incredible play with the earworm??? phenomenal, i gasped out loud

fig maybe moving into fabian's house even after she drops out so fabian won't be alone again... what if i threw up blood actually

i liked kipperlilly copperkettle being confirmed to be rotten to the core. 'the ritual looks very different when one accepts rage willingly' GOOD!!! i like evil ambitious teenage girls who try to burn the world down to get what they want. i get why they didnt bring her back, that detail definitely cemented her as in the zayne/penelope category of 'past villains who could possibly be redeemed'

FIG AND AYDA MY LOVES!!! sorry but not even the lesbian goddesses are doing it like these two. brennan put his whole pussy into creating ayda aguefort and my life has been changed forever

zac once again dming K2's alternate universe campaign

things i hated

ik it was payoff to the running bit and it made me cackle when it was revealed, but the implications of hallariel and gilear having a baby are so bad to me. fig talks up gilear a lot, and sure, he came around to being a good dad to her, but gilear has objectively been a shit stepdad to fabian and hallariel... is hallariel. its got to sting was watch your mom be basically catatonic for your entire life, and then suddenly prove that she was capable of being an present mother the whole time- just not for you. im hopeful that senior year will address this though!! lou has always been so good giving his characters' weighty emotional arcs that feel satisfying

i dont like the implication of trackerbees getting back together. i never thought bladebees was good beyond a realistic rebound, but trackerbees was SO codependent together, i dont think its a coincidence that kristen had her best emotional intelligence moments when forced to think things through on her own. tracker always struck me as kind of a 'fixer' type, like she feels most comfortable with someone she can act caretaker-y to (hence bouncing off kristen to another girl who had similar issues). i really reaaaally hope they dont regress back into their s2 dynamic

ruben's memory wipe. i thiiink the implication is that those who were the most willing to follow through on porter's orders maintained more of their memories bc they were in control of themselves and those who didn't were compelled into obedience (which might be why ivy and oisin remember more), but it wouldve been nice to actually see the lucy/ruben close friendship brennan said they had with him sobbing and apologising to her

it felt very weird that kristen didnt get some kind of resolution to her yearlong gentle prodding at bucky?? i think ally got sidetracked with the possibility of kristen getting back together with her ex that it kind of slipped from their mind (maybe bc to them the ankarna vision of her upbringing was kristen resolving her feelings towards her family but still), but considering all of elmville was coming apart, i feel like bucky's faith could've been swaying into doubt pretty easily. idk maybe bc ive become a trackerbees hater over the season but it felt annoying that that was what ally focused in on and not their character's more meaningful relationship with her little brother

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 58 Welp Posting

Hello kind void. Short (for me) yap this time... it's mostly just pain this chapter, after all. So much pain.

Very rough TL of the editor's notes:

First page: 漆羽の命滅契約は一体…? [Uruha no meimetsu keiyaku ha ittai...?!, What in the world happened to Uruha's lifelong contract...!?] Last page: 信念のもと漆羽を殺めた座村を前に… [Shinen no moto Uruha wo ayameta Samura wo maeni..., Standing in front of Samura, who killed Uruha due to his conviction...] Google Translate or DeepL can probably do better than me on this one, so go ahead and copy/paste that text into one of those instead for a better idea. Just note that 漆羽 (Uruha) usually gets auto-translated to "Urushiba" and 座村 (Samura) to "Zamura".

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Pregame Mini Meta Rant: If I hear a SINGLE complaint about how many panels were reused this chapter Imma get heated. Yeah, there's been a lot of copy-crop-paste stuff going on in the past two weeks. This chapter alone re-used Hakuri's exhausted seal pose four times. But the major scenes still hit hard as fuck and the new art is holding up. Let the author do what it takes to avoid burnout and health issues just as his series is getting the major promotion treatment, okay? Dude's had to do a lot of extra work recently with the cover and colour pages in addition to the usual volume redraws and accompanying filler sketches/doodles.

These chapters were probably being written and drawn about the same time as the extra materials. It's not like the author starts drawing on Monday and sends the chapter out by Friday so it can be published Sunday- they're finished weeks in advance before they're released. I recommend checking out a short manga called The Right Way to Make JUMP! by Takeshi Sakurai if the practical details of getting manga out to thousands of readers in both print & digital simultaneously every week seem interesting!

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Uruha vs. Samura

I interrupt this ramble before it even begins to do a little celebratory dance. I got most of what I yapped about last chapter right for once! Yay! ヾ(⌐■_■)ノ♪ I won't have to recap the Samura motivation/mindset yap with the new information! (This will probably never happen again.)

Anyway...

Let's start with this because fuck it was so cool and sad.

I love how every character in this manga holds fast to their convictions, man. But I didn't expect Samura to be so cold about killing his former apprentice y'know?! Not even a hint of remorse from this guy. Between this and the subdued greeting Uruha gave him, the lack of warmth in their dialogue together... I wonder if they had a positive relationship. Uruha certainly respected Samura's skills but the contrast between how he thinks about Kunishige and the man who presumably taught him everything he knows about fighting is striking, isn't it? He was pretty unemotional about having to duel his master to the death despite being such an emotive guy. Yet now we'll probably never know... (sigh).

Here's something I missed on my first read: Samura didn't use Tobimune to face Uruha; he was just the quicker draw with a regular katana.

His sword is closer to being sheathed, while Uruha's sword is still farther out.

In case anyone still wants to believe that Uruha is alive or can come back somehow after this... more power to you. The Sojo copers can probably give you some tips if you need them. But there is one small smidgen of comfort to be had, if one wants to interpret it as such.

Not using Tobimune can be read as respecting Uruha's determination and facing him on equal footing. I know he unnecessarily double-tapped Uruha when he was laying on the ground- he didn't need to slash the guy again with Tobimune to make the kill. I get it, the Enchanted Blades are tools of death. Just let me have this. I need it.

Uruha deserved better. He deserve to live, dammit. I didn't get nearly enough of him. But what a way to go. Standing up for what you believe, your dead (boy)friend's last words telling you to live no matter what running through your head. Fighting for your life to honor his wish even though it's a completely lost cause... fuck what a tragic character. He was such a passionate guy despite the losses he suffered. Uruha, man... I really wanted to spend more time with him, but I guess all we'll get of him are flashbacks about him from other people or during scenes recounting what happened in the war.

The worst part of saying goodbye is that it felt like we had so much more to see and learn about him. His story's incomplete but it's over all the same. That's what hurts most when authors kill these characters- the sense of real loss because of all the loose ends. Anything we learn about him will be retroactive for context. No more growth, no more silly faces... damn you Samura...! Fuck this author makes good villains in a short span of time.

Whatever incident was covered up 18 years ago has to be incredibly awful to drive Samura to become an avenger for the truth. I'm talking "establishing a whole fucking international court system to process it for over a decade" levels of bad. Which it may well be, if this flashback from Sojo's PoV in chapter 8 remains unchanged when we revisit it for context:

Hello, probable war crimes.

Yeah I'm banking on that mystery kid being Magatsumi's current wielder. Whether he was a child soldier or picked up the sword by accident somehow, this might be the clue to The Incident that turned Samura against his allies. The point about how anyone can use the Enchanted Blades is made repeatedly during and after the Sojo arc- why not a child? Covering up a massacre like that would be in a lot of people's interests.

Unfounded spitball theories aside, now that Hakuri and Chihiro are both clued in that some real bad shit went down, we can expect to learn more about it. Hopefully sooner rather than later because I'll definitely be judging the shit outta Samura based on how awful it is. I'm very interested in his moral dilemma but I've got unreasonably high standards as to what kind of event could drive someone to do something so awful (in fiction, at least). IRL people are messy, but fiction demands justification. And the way this incident is being hyped up makes me believe it's different from the other horrors of war sinking in and slowly driving someone to resent everything they did for the cause. Whatever the Bearers and the Kamunabi covered up is going to cast them all -Kunishige included- in an extremely unflattering light.

Burnout

He just looks so cute being carried like that even though he's so exhausted and roughed up…

... Yeah. Poor Hakuri.

I won't take up as much space here as I want to yapping about him because most of it's just retreads of things I've been saying for weeks already. But man. Man.

This guy awoke to his powers, killed his dad and brothers, put an end to his family's cruelty, saved a bunch of lives at great risk to himself, passed out, and woke up to try and do this crazy mission with Chihiro all in just over 24 hours. He's so fried he fell asleep while being carried piggy-back and can't even move any more! But he's still kicking himself for not summoning Kumeyuri for Uruha when he had enough adrenaline to sort of stand up on his own. Never mind the brain haemorrhage- he's got lives to save. Ms. Makizumi's words about pushing himself too hard being dangerous just go in one ear and out the other. These people want him to care about himself for the mission and because he deserves it but he just refuses to take it to heart...

Then the person he promised to protect is killed in front of him right after he made it his life's mission to prevent exactly this sort of scenario.

Fuck.

Can't even turn this into a ship moment I'm so bent out of shape. Someone strip me of my fudanshi creds.

It looks like Hakuri did summon Chihiro in a panic after all- he couldn't even call out to Uruha so reaching for Chihiro instead was his first instinct. He just wasn't fast enough because his body and mind are on the brink of totally shutting down. If he's truly unable to use sorcery again after finally gaining his own strength at long last... oh, that will hurt so bad. I'm not ready for how hard Hakuri's going to be on himself when he eventually wakes up despite doing his very best.

Hakuri's gonna be out of commission for sure after this event.

I'm close to 100% positive he'll temporarily lose his powers now. If it comes to be, then Kagurabachi will have passed my bullshit "don't say they'll die if the consequences don't match up to the risk" test. Being paralyzed and powerless for a while is good enough to convince me that death really was a possible outcome. See, it's really that easy. Totally not unfair and arbitrary.

Regardless, there's a lot of suffering ahead for Chihiro and Hakuri. Not only did all of this shit go down the day right after the Rakuzaichi, but there's still whatever the blood test will reveal hanging out there... the political and practical price of this failure with the Kamunabi... processing the guilt of not being able to save a life... coming to terms with how much they don't know... so much has happened to them in a short 24-ish hours, huh? And neither of them have anything good to look forward to in the short-term.

I gotta wonder what Hakuri will do this arc if he's literally unable to move for a while. His PoV gave us the info that there was a specific incident that was covered up, but that doesn't mean he'll be involved in that plot line. But let's save that stress for another time- gotta see how badly he fucked himself up and how things shake out between Chihiro and Samura first.

Chihiro vs. Samura

(Ch. 50) A long-awaited reunion.

What will go down next week? I'm sure as hell not gonna try to guess. Could be anything from casual conversation to an actual skirmish. At least one thing will definitely not happen though.

Neither Chihiro nor Samura are dying here. Chihiro cannot die until the last fight in the series is finished, so that's out (boo joyless nerd take no fun booooooo). Samura's simply too strong to go down to an exhausted Chihiro and we still have to learn the history behind his motives. So he's gonna stick around for a bit longer to cause trouble. Wouldn't be surprised if he's the arc boss! Hiruhiko's got his own training arc ahead of him and all (and some arms to reattach), so he'll be more of a recurring villain than someone to defeat as a character growth moment for now. It's looking like Samura vs. Chihiro for the foreseeable future IMO.

If I can reveal a selfish hope, I want Samura facepalming Chihiro and feeling the scar to be the means of getting insight on how he feels about Chihiro's situation. Samura's probably the one who tipped off the Hishaku about Kunishige's location thanks to accidentally finding out when Momma Shiba took Chihiro to the local festival. Oh boy, if Chihiro learns that Samura was the one that sold him and his dad out... that would be some incredibly potent angst. His hero, a monster? Say it ain't so. Would have told you sooner if I could, Chihiro.

Hm, Kunishige and the Bearers who were entrusted with his vision...

(Chapter 1)

(Chapter 9)

(Chapter 58)

I feel confident in thinking that Samura is basically Bad End Chihiro now. He's been tormented by guilt for nearly two decades and has decided to do everything himself. He'll kill his former comrades and the Hishaku or go down swinging- and kill himself if he actually succeeds. He's on a doomed mission to scorch the earth and take out as much evil as he can. All scum go to hell! Including the guy who's so mired in grief that he does a lot of murder to cope. Those scars of his don't look like tear tracks in some shots for nothin'. (Wait, wasn't I talking about Chihiro for a bit there?)

Chihiro's well on his way to following Samura's path already... he's not the type to kill his comrades, but he's definitely got the "guilty sinning avenger" thing going on strong. So if Samura is Chihiro's "Bad End", what will he force Chihiro to realize? Every major foe reflects a part of Chihiro back at himself and forces him to answer difficult questions, after all. Sojo- forced him to accept that there are multiple ways to interpret and use his dad's legacy

Kyora- forced him to look at his own devotion to his dad's legacy and admit he doesn't know as much as he needs to

Hiruhiko (round 1)- forced him to admit that he thinks of himself as a monster for the lengths he's willing to go to

As for Samura, I think it'll be along the lines of "is it necessary or justifiable to sin and/or commit oneself hell for the sake of a cause?". Maybe "can I be redeemed at all?" (or if redemption is even necessary in the first place). Legitimately can't wait to see what goes down between them next week to get more clues! God I love this manga so much. I haven't been so consistently engaged week to week like this in ages.

...One last thought. This is probably looking too far ahead as an angst merchant and I was rightly rebuked for mentioning it. I should know better than to share the worthless depressing bullshit that goes on in my head. But these posts are supposed to just be some yaps into an ambivalent abyss so... sorry, kind internet void, but you get some of my depresso espresso.

"The least I can do is refrain from causing harm to others and take you Hishaku bastards to hell with me." - Chihiro (ch. 53)

With all the deliberate parallels drawn between Samura->Chihiro and Uruha->Hakuri, I wouldn't be surprised if our favourite protagonist/deuteragonist pair has the same exchange later down the line. Definitely not under similar circumstances! I can imagine scenarios where Chihiro is trying to kill Hakuri but they're so far removed from canon that they make absolutely zero sense.

But there could well be a time where Chihiro decides to leave because he really does need to bear this burden alone and Hakuri tries to call him out on the ridiculousness of that mindset. I think it would be a happier result for Chihiro and Hakuri compared to Samura and Uruha if only because Chihiro isn't as far gone as the blind traitor rat is. But yeah I'm just sticking that in my back pocket to see if it manifests in the future.

Time to write some hurt/comfort and hope canon eases up on the pain soon. It's either that or setting up a bingo sheet with all the angst scenarios I've got written down in my drafts and notes... I choose the one that I can create my own happy ending for. Until next time, dear void.