#instead of grasping to some vague ''this is obvious'' things

[katyspersonal]

That's like me first time seeing this

Also, while I was desperately trying to find where 'Agatha' came from, I've ended up looking at official DLC guide that I've never seen before ( x ). I never was able to lay my dirty hands on official merch of this kind (and now never will again), but looks like I was kinda wrong:

All five of you remember my interpretation, right? I find it strange because not only all clues towards Willem still being important and relevant in the Healing Church are still in the game plain and clear, but also even in Japanese title for Laurence, his status refers to "the guy that replaces the ACTUAL leader of [religious institution]" ( x ).

It does not change... too much? But yeah, I will have to loosen my theory up and properly keep Willem as someone who stayed behind in Byrgenwerth, simply writing it as Healing Church still had contact with him (that secret cave in the woods, Yurie the Last SCHOLAR(!), that Church Giant in Lecture Hall, Byrgenwerth doing the Fishing Hamlet yet that's considered Church's secret, Willem and Byrgenwerth being aware of Laurence's Moon Presence and Gehrman even asking Willem to free him etc)... until it was declared "forbidden" later, for the same reason why Oedon Chapel ended up rumoured as cringefail place. I was moving towards it anyways, but now just more certainly! So, Byrgenwerth and Healing Church WERE in tight contact even after Laurence started doing his thing but Willem didn't help to found shit, he just layed back and watched the youth learn from their mistakes lol.

This also means that this altair is more likely not how Willem used to look, but Laurence, when I thought the opposite was true:

On the other hand:

The guide confirms what already was in the game but is often glossed over by the fandom; that Fishing Hamlet massacre was order of WILLEM and not Laurence and even devs say there is legit connection, that Willem wants us to hunt Rom and that Amelia was not a direct successor of Laurence but there were other Vicars that can make cool OCs!

Otherwise, nothing new was learned! Just that fiiiiine, I will return Laurence his proper role and push Willem back to be little to none active in Healing Church's life like it was meant to be. I wish I've seen this statement on the nose before, and not some vague cutscene with many other things in the game pointing towards a different interpretation 🙄 (@val-of-the-north come begrudgingly sing the Wrong Song with me xd (Okay I am joking, like I said it barely changes our story, just makes Willem elbowed away stronger. he still dresses like a pope tho so Byrgenwerth totally was a theocratical school)).

..... ah, shit, right, Agatha

Yeah me and the girls figured out that it was just a placeholder name that stuck and no official source ever called Chapel Dweller that. Not even in the same name as how Djura used to be called Guyla in promo materials, like... ever. Chapel Dweller was and IS a nameless babygirl.

[malottie]

i keep telling myself that i'll make a comprehensive document of lobotomy corporation (and libary of ruina, not really for limbus company)'s inspiration from judaism more specifically the kabbalah 'cause i don't think there is. the problem is i don't know shit about that and google searches only go so far. not talking about the sephira as emanations rn, and i haven't even touched yet on the enoch symbolism. there's also adam, abel, and the significance of it being abram and not abraham. and then qliphoth and the creation of evil by men and how it relates to cogito. and the abnormalities rank names. but for now, here's what i have for ayin if anyone wants to fact check me

16th letter of the alphabet, ayin is pronounced /ajin/ or /a.in/ contrary to the often seen /ajn/. it represents the glottal stop /ʔ/ or the guttural consonant /ʕ/. often seen as a silent letter, this ties into ayin's meaning as the nothingness from which everything emerges by god (most important of which, all the other sephira). ayin is keter, the first sephirot, and the link between chochma/hokma, the second sephirot, and ein sof, god/everything/creation/the primeval light. due to its existence as both nothing and the closest thing to god, keter is often excluded from the sephira, making hokma the first node of the tree of life

some connections are obvious, such as ayin being what creates the sephira in both cases, but most is closer to speculation. its meaning as nothing ties into his global absence from the plot, while at the same time being the centerpiece and catalyst for it all. its existence as a link between ein sof and hokma represents ayin as the link between benjamin and carmen, but moreso as what enables carmen and allows the light to flourish (ein sof/god represents both carmen and The Light that is her objective pretty interchangeably). god/the light doesn't need anyone to be attractive or gather faith, but by itself it cannot do much. only through ayin can it create life and spread its light: ayin is nothing without the light, litteraly, and is what trully enables carmen to try and spread the light to the world

ayin's most simple symbol is the eye, which added onto its emptiness and connection with the light of god leads to different degrees of interpretation:

- the one that sees and is nothing but that sight (relates to ayin/X as the manager that only see through cameras and does nothing but watch and give orders)

- the pioneer, the one that sees what others cannot and brings forth hidden light, but also as overseer or planner, as the one who sees wider and farther (relates to ayin's role as the one bringing the whole crew together, working closely to help carmen, then as the only one in charge, planning for the light, the play, and even past his death)

- more litteraly, the first one that saw the light of god (ayin might not be the first to have followed carmen, but he was the first to see past the person and grasp the enightenment she was trying to bring the world)

and now starts a bit of rambling, basically speculations worded as if i knew it was true

ayin is nothing, it holds no purpose for itself and crumbles without the light/carmen. nothing cannot create something without god, least of all god itself; and so, ayin could not resurrect carmen. instead, in search of the light, he, without god which means without goodness, understanding, or even the right to do so, created what he remembered of it, the imprint the void kept of the light; a negative. vaguely the same appearance, and intrinsically and forever linked, a lingering sense of it, a memory, but also as different as could be. angela isn't carmen because ayin couldn't. he is nothing without her and could not create her, nor could he ever want to. he sacrifices everything in search of the light that has faded, plans to die at the moment when finally carmen/god is present again through the enlightenment that was her goal, life and light created via ayin/nothing, but not by it or for it; and in the end, what destroys his plan and corrupts the light of god is the blasphemy he created without the divine, from nothing, because he didn't know better, the one who was never meant to be the light and could never be, the one who wouldn't have been born had the light not died and could never forgive the circumstances of her birth. icarus, not killed by the blazing sun but created by its fall, melted by its rays nonetheless, wax wings that could never fly nor protect

there. as stated before, tell me if anything is wrong/incomplete. i might add onto this later too

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

IV.

Akai Shuichi: Did you elope. [03:45 a.m.]

What Shuichi really needs is to lay this mystery his mother so graciously imposed on him to rest. The sooner, the better. So here he is, reaching out in the vague hope that just maybe this meeting wasn't actually about him. It's possible, after all, that one of his siblings did something to upset their mother, and she ended up giving all of them an earful. Letting her dismay be known, as is her speciality.

In that scenario, the most likely culprit is his lovesick little brother. He, after all, does have a partner he's even engaged to, and from what Shuichi has seen from Shukichi's fiancée, she might be prone to rash actions while under the influence.

It does not make too much sense, not really; Shukichi has always been the sibling most aware of social sensibilities, the one with the easiest time dealing with their mother. But at this point, Shuichi's grasping at straws.

Because it can't have been about him, judging by his mother's surprise.

Haneda Shukichi: Without telling the best man? Hardly. [03:47 a.m.]

And just like that, he's back to square one.

.

Shuichi might not have the best relationship with his mother, but he knows for a fact that she's not the type for arbitrary courtesy calls. She's all business, all the time. It's a miracle Masumi has a sense of humour at all, and he's yet to be convinced that's not entirely thanks to Shukichi's influence.

Therefore, Mary must have gotten it into her head somehow that there is someone in his life he has purposefully kept from meeting her. Not that she is wrong, conceptually - if he did have a partner, he'd spare them the headache that is dealing with Akai Mary.

The thing is, there is no one like that in his life. Shouldn't be, can't be. Not again. He's learned his lesson.

.

If in doubt, break down what you know about the case, and extrapolate from there.

Considering his mother only just now came out of hiding, he feels reasonably safe in the assumption that she did not make the relevant observation herself. Instead, it seems more likely his darling sister said something that ticked her off - enough that she figured she needed to confront him about it. Therefore, he needs to analyse possible partners in his surroundings, with a focus on those that Masumi knows. As an extension to the parameters, his family is aware of his cover as Okiya Subaru, whose contacts must also be examined. This has cost him enough time. He will get to the bottom of it, now.

.

For anyone who knows their history, Jodie would be an obvious candidate. Not that he still loves her, can't say that he has in years, at least not romantically.

He's been told he's supposed to feel guilty about what he did to her, but he can't help comparing this slight to some of the things he's done while undercover. He always comes away thinking at least she's still alive. At the time, he gave her the best he could: the truth. It might not have been pleasant, but it's certainly better than the lies and secrets he's buried under, these days.

She has, since his return to the US, made it abundantly clear, on several occasions, that the way he broke up with her was 'tactless, heartless and cruel, even for you, Shuu' and 'you better be eternally grateful Camel and I agreed to still work with you.' And to be clear, he is. They make for a decent team. Time and again they've proven they'll have his back. Sure, they have their weaknesses, but so does he, and in the end, they pick up each other's slack. It's good enough.

The irony of learning to appreciate a good team from a criminal syndicate is not lost on Shuichi - even if technically he learned it from two PSB agents. He's definitely not still sulking because he couldn't get Scotch on their team as some sort of remote consultant; the bureau was adamant, and probably right: He can't be in witness protection and working for the FBI. The less connection he has to this case, the better. Still, some days, he finds himself missing Scotch's level head and Bourbon's ingenuity.

Getting sidetracked. Focus.

He's been careful not to mix his Okiya identity and the FBI. That knocks out Jodie - and Kir, for completion's sake. Masumi doesn't know them, and if he has his way, she won't for a good long while. Their work is far too dangerous to get her involved. Plus, letting her meet Jodie would give both of them too much blackmail material.

Hm. Who does Masumi know, actually?

There's her classmates, Mouri Ran and Suzuki Sonoko, who came by the Kudo manor for a while to help him clean it up. While the latter seems a bit taken by Okiya Subaru, both of them are half his age and he really hopes he has been nothing but the perfect gentleman to them. Even if they weren't, though, theirs is a mess he would really rather not deal with. He's got to assume Masumi is more aware of the specifics of their love lives. He can only hope that, aside from the occassional meddling on Conan's behalf, he would prefer literally anything else over being involved with teen romance.

Hm. While on the subject of the Kudo mansion, Kudo Yukiko has been around to help with his disguise and learning to cook (though Furuya and Haibara have assessed that it is barely edible, so he has a long way to go still). She's a known fan of the Scarlet Agent, and surely it's not difficult for Masumi to figure out that movie is based on his life. Still, the girls haven't been around since the Kudos have officially returned, so it's seems rather unlikely Masumi would be aware of their relationship.

He's not going to think about his little cousin as an option. Masumi is smarter than that.

At this point he's really reaching. There's a couple of undergrad engineering students who have requested private tutoring the few times he's been at uni, some in desperation, some in obvious flirtation. He's denied them all. His engineering degree might not just be for show, but he really can't involve civilians in his business. Besides, Masumi hasn't followed him to university. As far as he can tell, at least.

If he's going into barely acquaintance territory, Furuya asked him once or twice to meet in the vicinity of café Poirot, too injured to stray far. He'd been complaining about Masumi giving him odd looks and stalking him, so she might have been watching them run into Enomoto Azusa. That had been a stilted conversation, even for him. Furuya's coworker had been a stark reminder of happiness that could have been, in a different life. Thankfully, perfectly diplomatic Amuro had cut the conversation short, insisting they had places to be.

And with that, he's reached the end of the list of women in his life. Some of them he'd even consider friends, but none of them particularly warrant the term partner, not even professionally. He hasn't had one since Scotch. Jodie could count, maybe, but the term implies a pair and he's been working in that team for so long that in this case Camel would also have to be considered- wait.

His mother is not the kind of person to use cutesy monickers like 'girlfriend', so he figured 'partner' was a professional catch-all. A work partner wouldn't warrant a reaction like that.

It's a little obvious, in hindsight.

Rei who came by with coffee when the girls were baking in the Kudo mansion.

Rei who complained about Masumi following him.

Rei who has been wearing the family sweater.

Oh.

.

Okay, so. Shuichi can see how Masumi arrived at her conclusion, however wrong it might be. For people like them, the fact they're meeting at all is probably the biggest indicator. They've shaken her tail off pretty consistently, so she wouldn't know they don't actually spend that much time together. And that Furuya is rather insistent on the fact that he's a reluctant ally. Not a friend. He still throws a fit whenever he realizes he's done anything exceeding the minimum amount of cooperation (there's a lot of fits).

The headache is back with a vengeance.

He should have listened to Furuya's concerns, intervened before. But he was kind of supposed to be dead.

Shuichi needs to have a talk with his sister.

.

Like Shukichi had promised, no one in their right mind wants to watch the early afternoon screening of Poultrygeist Two - The Plot Chickens. It's a good thing then that 'in their right mind' describes neither Masumi, who is somehow weirdly invested in trashy horror flicks, nor Okiya Subaru, newly minted horror movie connoisseur, as of two days ago. They reconvene inside.

"A pleasant surprise to meet you here, Subaru!" She smiles cheekily at him, grins.

"Miss Sera, was it?" He nods, and ignores her for the moment, turning to watch the screen. In his pocket, he flicks a portable signal jammer on. Nobody is supposed to know who they are and that they are here, but they can never be too careful.

Okiya Subaru continues staring at the screen until the movie starts, in an eruption of gore, splatter and the violent clucking of chickens. It's way too loud. Perfect cover.

"You two have to stop bothering Amuro." It seems wrong to call him that, but it would be even worse to give away Furuya's identity. Shuichi loves his sister, but she already knows too much and really isn't careful enough about it. Furuya must not be exposed, especially not at this critical junction.

"Oh? You want him all to yourself?" Masumi grins, devious. A reckless proposition, if he's ever heard one. Nobody could contain Furuya Rei.

"It's not like that." He shakes his head, trying to get the message across. "You don't want to get on his bad side." An annoyed Furuya is a vicious Furuya, Shuichi could provide extensive testimony to that effect in court. If she doesn't stop, he'll find a way to force her to. And Shuichi isn't sure he would oppose Masumi leaving the picture until the BO is dealt with.

Masumi's eyes narrow, pensive. She's got good instincts, possibly better than his own. Surely she must've noticed Amuro's dazzling smile sugar-coating what usually amounts to orders you shouldn't refuse. The way steel slips into his eyes when he's on a case, how he doesn't stop until he has his answers. The skills that do not fit in with a waiter-slash-detective.

"If he's that dangerous, why do you keep him around?"

A good question, if he's being honest. But in the end his perspective doesn't really matter. Rei leaves him little choice. If he didn't love his Japan so much, he would've followed Shuichi to the end of the world, and probably beyond, already. Now that he's back, there's no chance he could escape for long.

"Work."

Judging by his sister's raised eyebrow, she doesn't seem to believe him.

"Uh-huh. And that's why you gave him your sweater?"

Not her too with that inane piece of clothing. Why does it always circle back to that?

"As I said, it's not like that. He needed it. He's just not managed to give it back." Which, considering Furuya's general tendency for payback in a timely manner, probably means Shuichi won't. It's been months. That's fine. It's not like he is attached to it. And it suits Furuya.

It doesn't look like Masumi is convinced.

"Look." He's just a little bit exasperated. "You followed him to find me, right? You did, well done. Now stay away from him." She's better off far away from Furuya. To be completely honest, she probably should stay away from the both of them, tainted as they are. But she's family, and he can't quite begrudge her reaching out. He tried the same, after all.

She frowns at him, scans him and then, slowly, a grin spreads over her face.

"Alright, if it's that important to you", she agrees pleasantly, and he's about to breathe a sigh of relief when she adds, "on one condition."

"Name it."

"It's my birthday in a month. You're celebrating with us."

It's not a terrible trade-off, but Shuichi has a gut feeling he'll regret having said yes when all is said and done.

They end up actually watching the rest of the movie, and it's frankly kind of nice to spend some quality time roasting a shitty movie with his little sister.

Case closed. Finally.

.

As he sits awake that night, running surveillance from the sniper's nest in the Kudo attic, he wonders how things got to this point.

For years now he's carefully kept his distance to Furuya in order to not get caught in the blast radius when he inevitably explodes and takes as much as possible down with him.

Because somehow, Rei has never gotten the memo to distance himself from the job. A bleeding heart like him that cares too much, too quickly, and lets his emotions dictate his actions is a terrible choice for an undercover agent. He should be dead three times over in a criminal organisation, and yet. And yet.

Shuichi knows, first-hand, the determination it takes to carry on, despite all their work takes from them. What he buried to keep going might possibly, one day, be recovered. But Rei? He immolates himself for the country he loves so dearly. So the world can be brighter, the people safer. In the end, all that will remain of him is a burnt-out shell, nothing but ashes left in his wake. How much further can he go, until he runs out of fuel?

In the years they've known each other now, things have never been easy between them, but Shuichi's never been the one to wish him harm. It was Bourbon who wanted Rye dead, saw him as a threat. Then Amuro Tooru wanted Akai alive, the last thread connecting to Scotch. Shuichi is not quite sure what Furuya Rei wants with him, now.

To be kept so close he's mistaken as Rei's partner is foolish. And a privilege he'd never thought possible.

He's standing side by side with a dying star, and all he wants is to watch it burn a little longer.

.

Sweater weather AU masterpost

[blizzardrush]

Down Time

                                Dragunov Week Day 2: Hobbies

No content warnings for this one, but there is some (emotional) hurt/comfort involved.

Read here or on AO3.

Thank you, and enjoy! @dragunovweek1

                                        1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

                                                      -  -  -

    Dragunov isn't sure how the report meandered onto his desk. Someone else should have handled it. What it describes is so easy to deal with, janitorial staff could do it. But no. Since the problem is on base, there is a chance, albeit a small one, that the matter in question could be anomalous in nature. If so, it does require attention from someone better experienced.

    Still looks just like a baby owl to him.

    A dead tree on grounds gave up more than the ghost when it finally toppled over in the night. The owlet comes up to Dragunov's ankle from its sad place on the permafrost. It doesn't seem to have proper feathers, covered instead in vaguely fungoid down. It peers up at Sergei with inky eyes, bobs its head, and clicks its beak once.

    Yeah, this is just a baby owl.

    Dragunov tucks his hands into the pockets of his coat. This does not concern him or the base in the slightest. He turns to walk back to his heated office. Siberian weather can determine the owlet's fate. Already the wind is picking up in preparation for a snowstorm. It nips his face and lifts his hair.

    And with it comes a memory.

    The house in the countryside. Mother and Father would rent it every few years in the summer when savings were plentiful. It's a nice enough house, and Sergei would trade his single bedroom apartment for it any day, but as a child he would spend most of his time there in the neighboring woods.

    He'd been young. Three, perhaps, maybe four. He'd idolized his sister at that age, followed her every step like a shadow. She was his greatest source of inspiration and entertainment. She could do no wrong.

    It was during one summer trip she'd found the dead woodpecker.

    Neither she or Sergei had enough understanding of death to grasp why the woodpecker wasn't clambering up trees and banging its beak into the bark like so many of the others that called the forest home. The difference was obvious, though, and that made it intriguing. Now was their chance to take a close look at a creature that was normally as elusive, quick, and mysterious as a fairy.

    She'd picked it up, turned it over. Dragunov doesn't remember any horror or disgust. It must've been recently deceased. She'd spread its limp wings, jiggled its stick legs. He had watched with youthful awareness that observation was of the utmost importance.

    Satisfied, or maybe bored, his sister threw the woodpecker into the air. It dropped back to earth like a stone.

    And that violation of the paradigm that flying things fly was the funniest sight of Dragunov's short life. He remembered howling with laughter as his sister did it again and again, supplying sound effects of a crashing airplane, until he nearly wet his pants, tears pouring down his cheeks.

    Their oblivious cheer reached back to the house. Mother came out to investigate. Less than pleased, she hauled them both into the kitchen to scrub their hands raw.

    A frigid gust brings Dragunov back to the present. Looking down, the owlet is still there.

    The woodpecker's death had been a source of amusement, macabre as it was. If the owlet dies, nothing comes of it. Best case scenario, some scavenger eats the corpse. Worst case, janitors do deal with it and throw it in the trash. The idea suddenly makes Sergei's stomach churn.

    That settles it. It isn't often he gets to save lives.

    Picking the owlet up is easier than expected. Dragunov shields its head from the wind as he walks toward shelter.

-  -  -

    The owlet survives. The owlet thrives.

    She grows on a diet of captured rats. The larder is always full once (at Dragunov's command) the traps are switched from glue to spine-snappers.

    She is formally inducted as the first nonhuman among the ranks and given the title of Pest Abatement Specialist. Her routine patrols reduce bird strike incidents to zero.

    She is named Olga, after the saint who tied burning sulfur to sparrows' feet and rent divine fire to the homes of her enemies.

    She roosts in Dragunov's office, his apartment, and his heart.

-  -  -

    Yakushima was a complete disaster.

    Broken with jet lag, the ominous encrypted message from his boss fresh in his mind -- we will discuss your performance later -- Sergei barely recognizes unlocking the door and letting himself in. Home may as well be the surface of the moon. Charted, but devoid of air and warmth. His head is on the chopping block, waiting for the blade to fall.

    Then as he enters the kitchen: woo, woo-woo, hwoo-oo-oooo. An ocarina tremolo. Olga.

    Shit. The last few days had been such concentrated hell that he'd forgotten she was here. She must be hungry. He crosses the kitchen, opens the door to her parrot cage, and offers her his arm for perching. It won't be the first time she's clawed him as he trial-and-errored his way through animal husbandry.

    Yet she doesn't. She steps onto him, and yes, her talons pinch even through his sleeve, but her grip is merely for balance. She nips at the fur of his coat. Preening it.

    And Dragunov finds himself on the brink of tears.

    He bites his lip hard, squeezes burning eyes shut, wills the pain to replace -- what? Not sorrow. Not exhaustion.

    Gratitude.

    Olga loves him. Has loved him for years, and for more to come. He could fail every mission, become the laughing stock of his unit, and lose his job entirely. She loves him. Nothing on earth could change that.

    Sergei strokes her back, presses his lips against the crown of her head. Her feathers soak the words that fall.

    Thank you. Thank you.

[ansbobcar]

EP 14. Can't it just be a fight?

WORD COUNT. 1214

Link to overview

_ _ _ _ _

Why did they fight?

It was simple really.

The baseless whispers about the Blood Cane’s strength got on his nerves. “Don’t you think he’s weaker than her?” They uttered with each comparison they do as he looked over their paperwork before attending another meeting. Snickers popped open in the halls, “But Ms. Ontarin’s got more experience doesn’t she?”

Blood and Sand don’t mix well. Neither does a beloved and a despised person. It was bound to happen at some point. Typically, they held a duel between two Divine Visionaries in order to instil pride and courage amongst the staff at the Bureau yearly. So practically, just a year ago, he walked up to the blonde who had worn in a long skirt that day and uttered:

“My employees seem to think you can beat me but we’ve never fought before. I’d like to see if their words hold merit.”

He was practically burning his gaze into her line of sight and everyone in the area saw the interaction. She accepted without any more reluctance.

You’d be surprised at how fast word spread through the buildings about their duel to the point that Ryoh Grantz, the strongest of the Divine Visionaries acted as referee. Standing in the plain field courtyard barely a 10 minute walk from the building, the two stood metres away from each other.

“What’s the worst you’d want to happen to you?” she asked him. 

“Preferably not death,” he replied, his hand holding onto his wand.

“What a vague answer.”

The rules were simple: first person to get knocked out, get out of the line, or surrender loses. Physical violence is banned since this was to evaluate who was the better magic user. That’s how these duels worked. And nobody had managed to champion over the Light Cane yet.

“3… 2… 1… Start!”

Immediately, sand bound her feet down while she attempted to freeze him in place by reducing his blood circulation. But they both broke out of each other’s grasps, with a kick of body fortification as they closed the distance between them. But they can’t beat the crap out of each other you know? So what’s the point of doing it?

Well for Rinka it’s obvious, the whole crowd thought. Get close and bind him with blood but that needed her to be an arm’s length away from him. Of course, he wouldn’t allow such a thing as he continuously morphed the sand beneath their feat whilst he sent more projectiles towards her. The Desert Cane does as much as possible to screw over her line of sight but she’s quick on her feet. Quicker than he expected.

Closer than expected too, as he threw a stream of sand towards her eyes, which then mixed in with her own blood and splattered onto the ground. “You’re going to have to try harder than that,” she told him, warmth coiled around his neck only to be destroyed by mere sand particles. In it’s wake, he travelled further from her grasp.

It was the thrill that probably got to his head but he was slowly struggling to breathe. Taking more frequent and sometimes deeper breathes with each spell he chanted, parrying her attempts to lessen the gap between them.

“You slowed down his circulation from earlier? Is that why you kept trying to get closer instead of just offing him?”

“He just didn’t want to be dead, so I stayed true to his words.”

Since they had similar styles of application, it became an endurance test. What she received was akin to mere papercuts after all.

Without hesitation, she punctured his spectacles. His thick, highly powered spectacles. His biggest weakness not only as an opponent but as a person living day to day. He was partially blind in one eye, she hawked instinctively.

“Okay,” he breathed in sharply; “That does it.”

Instantly, he raised her onto a platform metres above and readied multiple projectiles towards her without another word. Who the hell destroyed someone’s glasses over something like this? But what he didn’t expect was her stubbornness as she dove down, eyes glued towards him. For the spectators, the way a maniacal grin etched itself as she readied her counter put them on edge. That wasn’t the Rinka Ontarin they knew.

Orter’s vision lost it’s depth and focus more frequently as the crisp tear of fabric was heard and his cheek, grazed with the sickly needle. Whilst the onlookers gasped at the sight, he clutched onto his shirt. The overbearing heaviness that heaved from his ribcage became more unbearable than he’d expected. ‘Quite sly…’

“Let’s just end this,” he gritted, summoning a tsunami worth of sand to haul towards her direction in hopes of getting her out of bounds. Her blood supply is limited, there’s no way she could afford to lose more blood than she already had.

“Didn’t Ryoh say you two took it too far?” Sophina recounted their battered appearance as Ryoh cast a light shield around the boundaries and themselves. With Rinka’s dark shirt dyed with a rustic hue, and Orter collapsed unconscious before controlling the last wave.

There was no reason for it to be like that. The bloody woman also tore her skirt! With holes that showed fingers worth of equally bleeding skin. “It was the best outcome I could’ve wanted, honestly,” she replied, her hands lifted at different heights. “The lack of a winner would mean that he’d be viewed more seriously,” levelling them next to each other, “and the comparisons made between us would stop. And they did. I can’t have someone who took over be in my shadow.”

"You went that far to make the atmosphere more bearable?” Her fuschia-coloured eyes narrowed. “I can't tell if your dedication is amazing or if your crush on him was too intense or if you guys are just plain stupid."

With a sigh as she leaned back, she took out some mini pretzels from the cabinets with her wand. “Either way, I thought he hated you?”

“You did?” She arched her brow at the hopeless reader. “He did?”

“Wasn’t it obvious enough?” She shook her head. “You really are lovestruck. What the hell is your type even if you’ve rejected every other guy out there?”

“Not as complicated as yours that’s for sureaCHK--”

_ _ _

“You want to go watch Easton’s Divine Visionary Candidate Exam?”

He didn’t bring that up in their recent meeting, confused by the sudden proposition. “Why?”

“He’s qualified to compete.” Right, she remembered. Orter had a younger brother who was practically estranged from him. They’d met for some tea about 2 months ago while he was taking an internship.

She didn’t take him to be that interested in his own family. No, it was probably that girl’s meddling that made him more conscious of it. “Putting effort to reconnect?” Curious to his thought process. He hummed. Matte gold eyes awaited for her answer with his lips drawn thin.

‘Was he… sulking?’

“Just answer the question.”

“There shouldn’t be any issues since you were planning to stay here right?” Awkwardly executing her question with some gestures. He hummed again. “Just make sure to tell Kaldo that you’re replacing me, okay?”

“Can’t I just follow along?”

“No.”

‘Now he’s actually sulking.’

_ _ _ _ _

Y'all are getting some wirth content next chapter! He's prolly OOC as hell!!!!

In another universe I would probably ship myself with Sophina Biblia lol. I do think she has ridiculous tastes. I'm reminded of those 2 j-dramas I watched and never 100% finished (Mr. Bride and Encyclopedia of Hopeless Love).

I wanted to write Pacific Rim flirting fight but it didn't 100% work out that way. But I guarantee that if it incorporated physical hits and moves, Orter would have a better advantage and be more likely to win.

Short edit like 2 weeks before it's published: I forgot that Orter doesn't refer to Wirth by name.

[caspalooza]

It sounds dramatic, but growing up, I agonized over the fact that I was repulsed by sex. I thought I wanted to be in a relationship but that it wouldn't be possible (or at the very least, not fair to the other person) to be in one without sex in it. I was convinced that romance is The Thing That Completes You, so I thought my options were "deal with sex against my will" or "be alone forever".

When I finally learned the term "asexuality"... well, I didn't really grasp the concept of attraction types, so I pretty much went, "man, I WISH I was asexual, instead there's just something wrong with me" and carried on.

I think I was nearing 17 when I finally decided to look into asexuality for longer than 5 minutes, mostly out of sheer desperation. I had vaguely known that sexual attraction and romantic attraction were separate terms, but I had always thought of sexual attraction as being a hyperbolic term for romantic attraction. And that sexual attraction only actually existed in movies and books and the like for dramatic effect or comedy. I don't remember what made it click, but when it hit me that it was fucking REAL and that most of the people around me had been experiencing it for a LONG TIME I finally felt that moment that I guess every person has at some point in their life of lost innocence. At SIXTEEN. LOL.

It is undoubtedly funny, but it was also scary. Over my life I had experienced things and acted in ways I thought were fine and normal, purely because I was straight up clueless about sexual attraction. It was never taught to me in any form because I guess there's an assumption everybody experiences it and therefore knows for themselves what it's like. So while there was a feeling of elation, I guess, because I wasn't alone and I wasn't broken, there was also a lot of horror and disgust that came with it because a lot of memories from my life were being dug up and put in this new context in a very not good way. And I can be more careful now, but dear lord what I would give to have been taught these things way, way sooner.

The romantic side is a nightmare in a different way. Ages ago, I developed a pretty silly-sounding fear that I secretly had crushes on all the people I met (and/or worse, that they reciprocated) that still won't go away no matter how hard I ignore the voices! That's paranoia for you, I guess. So it's hard to know for sure if I actually have a crush on somebody or if it's just the paranoia, but I think the fact that I know how it feels means I probably have, at least once, even if the thought of actually acting on romantic feelings sounds like the worst thing ever. I used to be really big into the idea of it, though, that's for sure. For years, I lived vicariously through my hundreds of fandom and oc ships. And I do still love exploring romantic relationship dynamics through fiction, but now it's more because I think The Inner-Workings of People and Relationships Are Fascinating than because I have any desire to live it for myself.

At the very least, the realization that I was ace and potentially aro helped me to pull myself out of my sad pit. And though I've never been super involved with the aspec community (out of shyness), If nothing else I credit all the lovely people in it for indirectly teaching me how important and fulfilling friendships and platonic bonds of all kinds can be. And that platonic/romantic/etc. love and attraction shouldn't be tiered as more or less important or fulfilling than one another, just different. It seems like a simple and obvious concept to me now, but it genuinely changed my outlook on life when I was first exposed to it.

Looking back at the things I actually wanted (and didn't want) out of my hypothetical "perfect romantic relationship" (no romantic gestures, just cuddling lol) I realized I pretty much only ever wanted an affectionate, possibly committed friendship (something like a qpr) and only assumed it was romance because... well, everybody is supposed to want romance! And seeing as my early friends and family weren't super affectionate people, it was pretty easy for me to believe that physical affection only came from a romantic partner.

All in all though, I've realized that, at least for me, it's not super helpful to think of different relationship types as strict categories or boxes. Humans are just more complex than that. And It's kinda ironic that the same community that often faces the "loveless" stereotype is the same one that opened my eyes to the fact that there are so, so many ways to experience profound and fulfilling love. And I think that's beautiful!!!!! HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!!!!

[adobe-outdesign]

DOG! JUST TALK ABOUT A DOG POKÉMON! ANY DOG POKÉMON!/j (aka I’ve just now realized you’ve also talked about Fidough)

(I'm going to do the Electrike line solely because it's one of the few dog (not wolf or hyena) Pokemon I haven't reviewed)

Electrike is an odd little thing. The head is really strange in particular, with lobed three segments (I guess two of them are ears, though they definitely don't look like it). Green is also an usual color for an electric-type, which, points for doing something different, but I'm not sure why they felt the need to change it instead of just using the blue from Manectric. Hell, the shiny actually does already anyway:

It also feels a bit vague and hard to grasp conceptually. The thunderbolt across the eye and spikes along the tail kind of convey electricity, but I don't know what they're going for beyond that. Supposedly it's based off of the raijū, a blue wolf (more obvious in its evo) with yellow electricity, but it doesn't look like one much beyond that.

I think it might've made more sense to make it blue, remove that half stripe from the back (or continue it down into the tail, I don't care, just don't have it end partway down the back), and maybe raise the middle lobe up so the ears and lobe form a vague lightning-bolt shape that would be mimicked by the yellow streak. That might at least help it convey something a big more clearly. As is, I kind of like it for how odd it is, but it's hard to remember it exists at times.

On the one hand, Manectric at least makes the raijū thing a bit clearer... but on the other hand, the awkwardness is unfortunately increased by a lot. None of these elements really go together; you have the super straight head point with the yellow stopping at the neck in weird shapes, the random fur on the front paws and only the front paws that also has no defined shape and leaves a weird blue band on the toes, the spikes on the haunches, which go in a different direction than the ones on the head, and the tail, which goes in a different direction than either of those two.

There's also just one or two more questionable things in there as well; for example, the random hole in the side of the head (is that supposed to be an ear?? that's not how dog ears work) and the incredibly small hind body with a completely messed up haunch (mentally make the yellow bits blue and remove the spikes and you'll get what I mean).

I think that if all the elements—head, haunches, and tail—pointed backwards, if you removed the chest fur and yellow fur on the front, and if you made the yellow accents flow more naturally, there could be an interesting design here.

Thankfully, the mega helps a lot here. Don't get me wrong, it's goofy looking as hell, but... well, so was Manectric, and at least this design gives a clear visual to latch on to, a clearer indication of typing, and a much more streamlined design with sense of flow.

Visually, the yellow bits are now all focused on the lightning-bolt back (and the front legs; still not fond of that, but they probably felt obligated to keep them seeing as they were on the original design). The colors are also more saturated. Everything flows backward, reducing some of the awkwardness of the original design, and the whole thing now has a sense of movement instead of being stiff. It reminds me a bit of a aardwolf, though I doubt that was intentional:

I do think that the back lightning bolt is too large and could've stood to be about 20% smaller; the red nails also distract from the eye. Here's a sloppy five-minute edit to show what I mean (original on left; ignore the weird looking ear placement on the edit):

While I didn't edit it, I also think the middle segment shouldn't have gone down past the body, instead ending at the same spot the thrid does, and the ear should be folded back to match the same diagonals as the lightning bolt. However, the mega is still a substantial improvement over the original design overall.

I really wish that the mega had been its own evolution. Many mega designs look too similar to the originals to work as evolutions; but in this case, the design has been altered so radically as to basically be its own thing. All you'd need to do is change the colors (as Electrike has a different color, and the line would be uneven if it was one green and two blue); maybe white with blue lightning to reference the raijū thing. It's not like there was any reason it shouldn't evolve, after all.

So overall, kind of an awkward line with a massively improved mega that unfortunately isn't around any more. Ain't that just the way.

[regicidal-defenestration]

Mechtober Day 15 - HNOC

Brian had never really considered the fact he didn't have blood, but recent times had found him increasingly thankful for the fact.

He had to be thankful for something anyway, because otherwise he'd start thinking about his current situation, and then he'd start thinking about how much being hung upside down for years, with no shade from the unrelenting sun and no protection from the freezing nights, was truly a terrible experience, and then he'd start thinking about how he came to be here, and then he'd start thinking about losing that fucking bet, and he really did not want to start thinking about that bet.

Galahad interrupted his train of thought with a tip of his hat and an:

"Evenin', Merlin. How's the day finding you?"

Brian didn't make an oh, just hanging around joke, because he still had some self respect left.

"Today I'm grateful that I don't have to feel the blood all pooled in my head," he said instead, in a way that didn't sound grateful at all. "It's the only thing I have left to be positive about."

"That so?" Galahad replied, in the vague sort of way people will agree to anything you say when they're busy thinking about something else.

Brian paused. 

"Did something happen?" he asked, whirring with concern.

This was worrying. Something was definitely going to happen - the crew wouldn't have come here otherwise - but things couldn't be moving this fast already. The exposition had barely been laid.

Taking a seat next to Brian's head, Galahad looked across the square to the Joyous Guard. The shadows in the windows showed that someone, at least, was having fun tonight.

"I've been hearing talk. Some folks reckon you've been telling the future."

Brian doesn't quite hide the bitterness in his voice.

"If they think that, it'd be nice if they listened to me."

He'd tried though, that was the important part. He'd warned Gawain that his hatred for the Saxons would lead only down the dark road of violence. He'd told Arthur that maybe, just maybe the world did still have hope in it and that hope was coming in the form of his son, long thought dead.

He had tried, even though they'd both nodded politely, disregarding every single word he said.

Galahad barked a laugh.

"Those bastards ain't the listening type and don't I know it."

He looked at Brian out of the corner of his eye, considering something for a while before he next spoke. 

"Hey Hanged Man. You don't happen to have any more of those prophecies lying around, do you?"

It was a deliberate question, one that, despite the careless words, hadn't been asked easily. Brian could feel the weight of Galahad's expectations as he tried to word a good enough answer.

He was about to say a flat no. No, that's not how any of this works, and I can't justify lying and giving you false hope, and maybe it would have been easier if he did.

Except…

Except Brian had the unpleasant realisation that that statement would have been a lie.

There was something that he could see. Bright lights and gunshots and the burning chair. All the way to the inner ring of the station and the Captain sleeping there, hands grasped tight around the source of new life. True and useful are not the same thing, sneers Jonny and the words melt in his mouth. Falling, falling, falling, and the endless, all consuming flames.

Well.

That was interesting. 

Galahad was still watching him, trying not to be obvious about it, and failing.

"If you ain't got nothing Merlin, you can tell me. I was just wonderin'."

Brian's neck creaked as he tried to shake his head. He has something alright.

Third time lucky then?

"Deep within the depths of the station…"

[kipperlillycopperkettle]

cashmere fic!! and we must be killers!!! two for one 💗

the cashmere fic is just some more cashmere pov stuff i wanted to write after i finished my main cashmere fic! i didn't really have a plan for it, which is obvious bc there's only one scene in the doc (cashmere and the other d1 victors hanging out at a victor bar).

we must be killers is my old guard thg au, which i started writing because andy and booker give me the most jaded two victor energy (specifically lyme and brutus energy) and idr why i stopped writing it, but i made lykon andy's mentor, which is a weird choice bc he definitely feels younger than her? i do not remember why i did that at ALL) so i probably won't go back to it without severe revisions. but anyway the premise was andy goes back to mentoring for one last time to mentor nile.

since this is one ask i'm only putting one snippet <3 anyway here's andy and joe in we must be killers in which i use comics lore with wild abandon despite never having read the comics

joe avoids her gaze for a moment, before meeting her eye. “nicky’s mentoring this year, and...”

andy presses her fingers to her temple. “and you're afraid that your tribute will kill his?” she’s not nearly drunk enough for this conversation. honestly, this was the reason she should’ve never taken a tribute this year. there was nothing keeping her semi-sober, not before. booker’s eight years out from his own victory, he can handle himself well the fuck enough by now, and if she didn’t have nile, she’d be drunk enough that she couldn’t feel a thing.

“yes.”

“shit.” there’s a long silence as joe stares down at his own drink in what looks like abject misery. “so, i suppose this isn’t the time to tell you i’m mentoring this year, too?”

he looks at her, his eyebrows furrowed. “but... you said...” he trails off, gesturing vaguely with his hands. she'd told him she was done with mentoring, because, well. she thought she had been. 

andy sighs. “listen, i know what i said. but lykon asked me to, so...”

“ah.” joe’s reply tells her enough. he knows, then. knows why she’s done it. he doesn’t blame her for this. he can’t. he knows why. even though his mentor passed a couple years back, from some kind of latent head injury from her games that caused a stroke, he knows. if she was still around and asked him to take a tribute, he would.

joe claimed the crown the first year andy tried to mentor. she’d only been out of the arena for a couple of years, but she’d felt useless just sitting by and watching two’s tributes die, and she’d picked him. achilles — he'd been quarry, like nile and lykon, and she’d had such high hopes for him. 

but instead, she'd watched as joe had clawed his way through the arena and grasped the crown with bloody fingers, his scimitar slicing through the other tributes as though they were nothing more than air and dust and not bone and marrow. and there's still something so kind and soft behind his eyes that she can't even hate him for killing her boy. not that she doesn't wish she could. 

joe's soft in a way victors aren't meant to be. she's not sure if it's because of nicky or just because of who joe is, but she envies him. she envies the part of him that he got to keep and she had to cauterize off, like a wound gone rotten. 

“joe, i’m sorry,” andy murmurs, and she is. she really is. 

he smiles at her, the lines around his eyes crinkling. “i know, andy.”

there's a long beat before either of them speaks again.

[batteredwarriorstillstanding]

After exchanging pleasantries for 15 minutes with the trio of employees in the office, I began to get antsy. I wasn't so sick that I needed detox, but it wouldn't have hurt. I was shaking, probably not noticeably, but I wanted to get outvof thereo I could go be miserable by myself for 2 or 3 days. Not wantingvto appear rude, or ungrateful, but wanting to continue to wait even less, I offered what I felt was a tactful, yet suggestive question: "So....aren't there some papers and shit I have to sign?" Tommy gave me a disapproving look, but, thankfully, refrained from yelling."We have a new staff member who's going ti check you in, she should be here shortly."

"Oh. Right.I'll uh.....wait here, then."

Tommy, who seemed almost jovial prior to my incredibly minor lapse of gratitude, exited.

Several minutes later, a young, attractive woman poked her head inside the inner office where I sat. "Hi, are you Dan?" I felt a strong reaction to her. Depending upon what my feelings were on the subject at the time I described it to trusted listeners, I would sometimes fall victim to using the chalky, and in this case, not accurate (as is fairly obvious now, but, when carefully observing

I stared, attempted to respond, but no intelligible words could form, the nod and noise must have been enough, becaude she summoned me to the entry way where the computer used for admissions sat.

"You know, you look sort of familiar. Have I seen you, or met you somewhere, perhaps?" Not only was she quite pleasant, but also provided me with a tacit reason for staring at her nonstop and being unable to coordinate fine muscle control effectively enough to speak for the first 5, or so minutes of exposure to her, "uh yeah....that's totally what I was just thinking. It's like, I know I've seen this person, but ya know, I don't know....ug, where, and I've just been sitting here trying and I can't uh, place it." Okay, not silver tongue award material, but I was, at least, recovering.

We spoke for 15 minutes, at least, as she, despite being new to the position, was noticeably more efficient at navigating File Maker Pro than previous stagf members assigned to the task. In general, nearly every conversation i have ever had with her, is available in a near perfect reproduction in my mind's files. Because I have frequently referred to them, and material is scarce, ut's almost as though they happened 3 weeks, instead of 17 years, or whateverthefuck, ago. The exception to this rule is this one. I remember it, don't get me wrong. We touched on numerous topics, including her current boyfriend, to which I vaguely recall letting a quai involuntary comment slip upon this disclosure. Sorry. My bad. The health issues she was enduring, which were quite serious, though I don't believe I entirely grasped just HOW serious immediately. We exchanged brief bio's, and concluded on a definitely positive note, which, in light of the forceful, unprecedented feelings and alterations that seemed to be taking place during, and after this superficially non-descript introduction, I silentky congratulated myself for holding it together much better than I originally thought possible. I was AFFECTED by her. And, although a mixture of laziness and wishful thinking has caused me to invoke the term"love at first sight, when describing it imto others, on occasion, in truth, that wasn't it...I guess nothing, at that point, should have been understood to rule it out, nothng really promised it, either. It wasn't like that....and here's where a difficult explanation becomes impossible. The first person I truly opened up to aboutte matter, months later, was my future on and of itkfrien (though not at the time) The way I described things, initially were so inadequate that she--actually an infinitely better listener than I, so....don't blame that, assumed Ihad just met a woman who was drop dead gorgeous. And, I suppose I should address this right here....carefully. She was/is strikingly attractive. If you interviewed 100 straight men, they would nearly all agree. But, due to health issues, she would actually look much better in later years. So, let's say that ehe would peak a couple of years later at a 9/10. That would put her at, maybe a 7.5 on this particular date. Good, and later straight up hot....but I see 7.5s all the tme, and 9s daily. I don't suddenly become a mute imbecile whenever this occurs. So....and again, I wanna be careful, cuz it seems there's no way to touch on this subject and not do it wrong, but she is a beautiful woman. She was on this day, even moreso later, if she weighs 200 lbs today, she is still beautiful. I'm only explaining that this had nothing to do with my immediate feelings for her. That was something unseen, something of the spirit. I assumed, for a long time, or, at least guessed that it was due to a sirt of mutual recognition of....something. Now, it seems the one doing any recognizing was my spirit...and that's fine. Although, as mentioned, I optimistically assumed that this was a "love at first site" type of occurrence, and that it was mutual. I know a popular assumption on tumblr and elsewhere, frankly, is one of pity. "Oh my goidness, this guy is so loneky, he hekd into a crush for twenty years, despite no positive feedback " Let me just say that, I don't blame anyone for assuming this (I guess...) but, this is simply not the case. I haven't held onto anything. Ever.. in fact, except for, perhaos, the first month, or so, after meeting her, and, periodically, afterward when I would interpret one sign, or another, as interest on her part, I spent much of my time wishibg, frankly, that it would go away. Not that I hated the idea of carig about her. I didn't at all. She was cool. Very impressive in many regards, and seemingly woukd benefit from a few mire people in ger corner, but the level of caring needed to be pared down to something that made sense, something positive for me, and acceptable to her....there was,seemingly, no valud purpose, for this. So, I picture the situations

[pawsitively-clawful]

For my first post on this side-blog, I bestow upon you all an inktober prompt. In writing instead of drawing :’)

Day 7 - Trip

A quick little Alistair x Warden thing. I took the word ‘trip’ quite physically literally for this, rather than the idea of an excursion... It’s just some casual comfort.

I yelp and extend my arms out, reaching out to grasp Alistair's back. It's a futile attempt, especially considering the only thing I would grab is his pack and the fact that I've been walking about two meters behind him. The mud greets me more fondly than I would've liked, as I slam into the ground. I instantly feel my clothes become wet - dirty.

I lift up my begrimed gloved hands and sigh. It would be pointless to try and wipe my face with those.

Luckily, I don't need to.

"Are you alright?" Alistair is swiftly before me. He cups my face and wipes the dirt from my cheeks, gently shifting it away from my eyes.

"Dirty," I grumble. My knees have a dull ache and I still feel the twist in my ankle from where the root caused my stumble.

He laughs. "Well, if that's all you are then nothing's really changed."

I sarcastically smile back at him and he reaches under my arms, hoisting me back up.

"Really, though," His tone softens, no longer as urgent as his first question or as amused as his previous statement, "Are you alright? You just landed flat on the ground. Do you need a rest?"

Through our silent travels, I've picked up many of his mannerisms. But in moments like these, I'm reminded of his more obvious behaviours. I watch his eyebrows crease in worry; his hands linger on me and vaguely brush me down, trying to maintain any sort of contact with me for any reason he can find. He looks me up and down but his eyes always stick around my face, waiting to take note of any change in my facial expression.

I giggle to myself. The only change in my face Alistair can note is that I've started to blush - taking explicit note of how deeply he cares for me is more than enough to cause that.

He sputters, "What? Did you hit your head? What's so funny? I'm not dirty too, am I?" Alistair checks himself up and down.

"No," I lean into him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He lets out a pleased exhale. "I'm fine. I was just thinking about how you rescued me."

"Rescued you?" He snorts. "Makers Breath, if this is what you consider a 'rescue' I can't begin to consider what you think killing the Archdemon is."

"I tripped on something and you came to my rescue. It’s really quite simple.”

“As simple as killing an Archdemon?”

“The only one making that correlation is you, and only Andraste knows how you’ve reached it.”

[nikofortuna]

Poem: The End

The disaster inspiring this poem is a plague. It’s much less descriptive of the actual event than it is of the feelings of the author, which as I mentioned before is my character. Additionally at this point everybody engaged in the roleplay event has been planning to start a rebellion against the person who has been causing all of the disasters.

The End

Time and time it happens again,

Disaster strikes and locks us in,

Snow and Flame make heads spin,

Tides and Strain seek to win,

As if living was the greatest sin.

At leisure it takes away our kin,

While supplies too are running thin,

We are left to bury the fallen men.

Is it our fate to perish in this plague?

Or is there a cure so that we may endure?

It spread from high up reaching the sky,

But only grasps at the ones that bow far down below.

Stoking fires-

Burning incense-

Stoking fires to purify the bodies,

Burning incense to cleanse the souls.

So it goes ashes to ashes

And dust to dust.

With death we had many clashes,

Now we have to do what we must,

If only to survive at last.

Starting the analysis with the title this time!

So the title alone already reflects how thoroughly done my character is with the current happenings and it has been gradually radicalizing him with this disaster being the last straw in that regard.

Right at the beginning there is a bit of a recounting of the four previous disasters, how often they are occurring and how many lives are cut short every time. The first and last verse lock in every other verse in this stanza between each other through their rhyme scheme, which illustrates the lockdown the people have been experiencing in some way every disaster. Those are also the most important verses as every other verse except those two could be cut and the core meaning of the stanza would still be preserved.

The whole stanza feels a bit less flowery at least to me, which is supposed to showcase how upset my character as the author is that he speaks so directly and clearly.

The next stanza is a lot more flowery in contrast, in part because it has to be in a sense. Verses three and four clearly allude to the illness originating from the palace but only taking the lives of the citizens. It is just vague enough that my character could plausibly deny that the emperor is meant here and just say he means the Heavens instead.

The rhyme scheme in this stanza is a bit different from what I’ve done so far as the rhyming bits are within the same verse each. There are also two parallels to be found here with the subjects standing directly in opposition to each other in both cases. The first two verses set things up with the cure standing against the plague, which then makes it quite clear that the emperor is standing against the people. This verse set up also uplifts the people since structurally they stand in the same position as the cure.

As always we’ve got my favourite poem structure with another double parallel! Two things of fire with one big and the other small and two aspects of a person that are being made clean with those fires being set alight respectively.

In the last stanza the first half is obvious given that those verses are well known and refer to the death that has occurred again. Meanwhile the second half alludes to the citizens of the Crimson Empire rising up against the emperor, who at best is letting them die without interfering and at worst is the direct cause for all of this death. And with it being the only stanza with an uneven number of verses it signals a clear end.

[kryptonincsblog]

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[mirceakitsune]

Banned from Furaffinity for drawing jokes / caricature / satire 7 years ago

Furaffinity always had serious issues and strange behavior toward its community. What happened over the past two days however is beyond what I think any of us would have ever imagined seeing someday. I'm not really sure how I can even translate the situation without people thinking I'm biased and exaggerating because it happened to me, it's one of those things you have to experience for yourself to fully grasp it.

They have now banned me and another artist I followed for 15 years and admire. Our only crime was making satire art… 7 years ago (in both our cases) plus my latest render in my case. All pieces were SFW and in no way sexual, literally intended as jokes and nothing more. After two thirds of a decade, during which the pieces were up and nobody once complained, a coordinated ban was conducted over what our past selves did at a time when there were probably no rules against it to begin with; In my case I had even forgotten that old sketch, initially I thought they mistook the age of a character in my recent works since I didn't even remember doing child characters (only did that one time and another joke I think).

https://inkbunny.net/s/886450

From what I remember, this was essentially a joke about a similar artist who got harassed: I believe Subwoofer made a parody about animals eating babies and everyone started yelling at him because of it, I found the situation hilarious and made that drawing to honor it. Initially FA suspended me for one week over that sketch, citing how it was somehow cub porn… I'll let others deal with the mental gymnastics as they're far beyond me. Then they needed a reason to get rid of me for good, and so…

Yes: A parody with cartoon bunnies poking fun at the capitol insurrection on January 6th. The accusation, I kid you not, is that this image was promoting COVID misinformation along with QAnon… it also says they deleted some journals which I'm not even aware of. That render… is COVID… misinformation…

And to be absolutely clear, it legitimately wasn't even intended to support anything in any serious manner. As I said it was strictly parody with a silly story attached, mostly to poke fun at what went on. I did NOT claim the elections were stolen, that Trump was right, and in fact I legitimately believe QAnon is 90% crazy from the little I even bothered looking into that group.

This is a screencap for anyone who thinks I must be blowing this out of proportion and it couldn't have been like that. See for yourself: This is the reason they gave, the image they reference is the one with the same title. Let me know how in the heck I even said anything about COVID-19 in that 3D render.

The real motive they came after me is because I took Foshu's defense in that journal, against the people harassing them also for making a cartoon joke those same 7 years ago. I wasn't suspended for anything I said there however: The FA mods instead decided to look through my gallery and pick two jokes I made seven years apart. It was because of my stance there however, we both got banned at the same time and it was clear it came from the arguments we just had with the angry mob.

Though I figure worse is possible, I imagine this is one of the biggest abuses in FA's history. Both in what they try to interpret as being against their extremely vague TOS, as well as how they handled it. I'll see if anyone in the appeals will contact me after I explain the situation, but even if I get unbanned I'm unlikely to post there again: FA has gone completely nuts, everyone including the mods are acting like a cult on anything that is a social issue… not everyone as far as users go of course, but the platform at large has clearly become a nest for the most violent and delusional circles (just like Twitter).

I'm posting this to let everyone know it happened and I'll likely leave the place whatever happens next. But also to expose the extent of the abuse, in case anyone feels they can look into it and do some investigation; FA is of course its own private site and can do any insanity it wants, but for a community of its size I really wish someone out there could hold it up to a minimal standard. Inkbunny is the only one I trust any more, it's made some mistakes too but never anything like this… may it live longer than me and stay free no matter what the world's insanity throws our way.

[irrelevantwriter]

Wait It Out

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) x Female Reader/You

Rating: SFW (later chapters will contain smut and will be tagged accordingly)

Warnings: Language, mentions of drug use, vague sexual references, Eddie being cute as shit (kill me)

Word Count: 1603

Summary: Part 3. You seek Eddie out and find him.

A/N: Part three is here! Things are building. Tensions are rising between reader and Eddie. Who will crack first? (probs eddie tbh) Y'all let me know if you fucks with it. Enjoy and share with your friends! Feedback is that good shit.💗

Disclaimer: As always, reader inserts are true reader inserts. If you find any specifics in regards to reader’s appearance, kindly let me know and I will fix that.

*Find previous and future chapters here

*Check out my other Eddie fics here

***********************

Somehow nearly another month had passed since you’d seen Eddie. It wasn’t on purpose. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. Despite seeing him at Reefer Rick’s a few times, he wasn’t always there for every party. Other than that, you weren’t entirely sure where to go looking for him. You could ask around. You knew he played in a band at some bar just outside of town. But you didn’t want to seem obvious. Though you were getting close.

You’d been to the Family Video four times. All were excuses to hopefully run into Eddie. But such was not the case. He was never there. And you were losing reasons to turn down a membership at Family Video when you’d gone in so damn much.

But as luck would have it, Reefer Rick got arrested. He was your dealer on the occasion you needed to buy for your own supply. You usually bummed off your friends. But word around town was Eddie played liaison while Rick was away serving time. So as casually as you could, you asked about where to find Eddie Munson to complete a transaction. You’d gotten his address soon after.

It was a warm summer night, the crickets already out and making their presence known with the incessant chirping. You drove down to the Forest Hills trailer park, realizing you’d been here once before. You’d briefly dated a guy who lived here. Hopefully he still didn’t.

You made the turn at the entrance and looked for Eddie’s van. It wasn’t hard to find. His trailer was towards the back, van parked askew. There was only one light on in the trailer and it came from the back. You briefly thought about cutting out and making a run for it. You felt dumb. Foolish for needing a reason to see a guy. A guy you’d had all of two conversations with.

You were actually beginning to like him. Something you’d hadn’t quite been expecting. You’d anticipated a metal head with the attitude to match. But instead you got Eddie Munson. An endearing man-child that teetered between nervous and sexual energies. It was a serious mind fuck and you were beginning to have doubts.

You put your car in reverse when a knock came to your window. You jumped and yelped, grasping at your chest as Eddie’s smiling face appeared in the glass. You rolled down the window, eyes flat as you glared at him.

“You scared the shit outta me, Munson,” you chastised.

“Could say the same about you,” he gestured to his van and you realized one of the back doors was open. He must’ve been inside when you pulled up.

“You okay?” he asked, seeing you still frazzled.

You nodded.

“Wanna come inside?”

He took a step back so that you had room to exit the car, waiting for you to make your move. You still felt like a complete idiot, but you nodded and grabbed your purse.

He opened the door for you with a lavish wave of his arm and you laughed. His silliness always put you at ease.

“I wasn’t expecting company so forgive the state of my castle,” he joked and you suddenly felt like shit.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I should've called first.” You looked at him with an apologetic expression, but he waved you off.

“Nah, it’s cool.”

He led you up some stairs and held the door open as you walked in. You took in the many knick knacks that adorned the walls. It was a small space, but homey. You’d seen much worse.

“I live with my uncle. He works nights,” he offered, shifting his eyes away from you.

“Alone at nights. Sounds dangerous,” you teased, gaze sweeping over the living area.

“It’s pretty quiet around here. Nothing to worry about.”

“Not the kind of danger I was talking about,” you threw over your shoulder, reading the scrawl on the numerous mugs that hung from the wall.

You could hear him clear his throat from behind you, your words no doubt landing in exactly the way you’d wanted.

“You, uh…you want something to drink?”

“Sure. Whatever you got,” you replied as you moved towards the couch. You set your purse down beside you as he rummaged around the kitchen.

He emerged with two beers and handed you one as he sat on the arm of the couch, facing you. You noticed how he played with the label on the bottle, rings clacking against the glass.

“Are you okay?” you asked with an arched brow, smirking at the way he opened and closed his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.”

You nodded, not believing him in the slightest but left it alone.

“Sorry to just show up at your place. It probably could’ve waited.”

He seemed to settle and shook his head at your words, taking a large swig of the beer.

“S’okay. Truly. I am open for business,” he announced with a flourish, that silliness back on full display.

“Well, while I did come to see you for that, I also came for another reason,” you started, setting your beer down.

Eddie grew quiet as you opened your purse and pulled out a black piece of fabric. You held it out to him as he eyed it warily, setting his own beer down.

“It’s not going to bite you,” you laughed, seeing his hesitation.

“I’ve been bitten by some questionable shit.”

“That’s a story for another day.” You pointed at him and silently made him promise he would tell that tale.

He nodded, unfolding the fabric. “Holy shit!”

You smiled as he beamed at you and the t-shirt you’d gifted him. It was an AC/DC concert tee. One you’d picked up from the show last month. You’d seen it and instantly thought of Eddie. So you bought it. Never really having any intentions of giving it to him.

Until now.

“This is for me?” he asked in shock, still inspecting the garment.

“Yeah. I owe you for the cigarette. And now the weed. Figured you’d like it,” you replied, hoping you sounded blasé enough.

Eddie’s expressive eyes kept jumping from you to the shirt and back again. Once he registered your words, he stared at you for a long moment. A flash of something serious passed over his face before he was smiling once again.

“This is nice as shit. You didn’t have to do that.”

You shrugged. “I wanted to.”

He accepted the simplicity of your answer. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Munson.”

“I’m trying it on right now,” he exclaimed with all the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning.

You laughed and watched as he ripped off the faded Iron Maiden t-shirt he had on. Your eyes roamed his naked torso, surprised to see all the ink that decorated his skin. It suited him.

You discreetly licked your lips as you took note of the leanness of his muscles. The faint trail of hair that disappeared beyond the waistband of his jeans. The faded scars and freckles that dotted his flesh. It was a feast for your eyes.

Eddie didn’t seem to notice your hungry gaze and slipped the t-shirt over his head, the material fitted just right against his body.

“Looks great,” you complimented as he showed it off, doing a slow turn for drama. “Totally bitchin’.”

“It is totally bitchin’,” he agreed. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to,” he said, tone growing serious.

“No sweat.”

One of those meaningful, intimate stares passed between you two. It was more electrically charged this time. A little more intense. And it made you squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to alleviate this new ache.

“Well, you know flattery works on me so you get the good shit,” Eddie said with a clap of his hands. “I’ll be right back.”

He left you alone and you took the time to think about letting him fuck you right then.

You’d let him. You wanted to. More than anything at this point, but you needed him to make the move. You had a feeling if you just waited him out, Eddie would come to you. And you hoped he was anything but sweet when he did.

“Alright, got it,” he announced as he joined you back in the living room.

He handed you a sandwich bag filled with weed. It was more than enough. Probably too much but you weren’t going to tell him that. The shit would get smoked.

“Thanks, Munson.”

“Hey, thank you. Pleasure doing business,” he motioned to the new t-shirt he still wore and grinned.

The hum of a window unit nearby came to life and suddenly cold air was being blasted into the small space. It felt divine. You could feel your nipples pebble against the sudden breeze, showing in the yellow halter top you wore.

Soft brown eyes flickered down and then up again, a look you couldn’t quite place decorating his features. You decided to make your exit before you lost your resolve.

“I gotta go. But I’ll see you soon, yeah?” You stood and grabbed your purse, walking towards the door as he followed.

“Yeah, don’t be a stranger.”

You turned to face him at the top step, seeing the glow of the trailer frame him in a perfect halo. It was ironic. And alluring.

“I could never,” you said with a smile, stepping down the stairs and to your car. He watched you the whole time until you were pulling out of his lot.

The entire way home you considered turning around. But you held strong. Eddie would come to you.

[sinfulcries]

hi sir! i really enjoy your works so could i request atsumu's senpai catching him jacking off while moaning reader's name in the locker room and reader takes his virginity on the spot?

maneater — atsumu x male reader

author's notes. UHM I AM SO SORRY THIS IS REALLY LONG I GOT REALLY INTO IT HAHAHA. this was also beta read by my lodicakes @bunbyy <3 thank you so much NJKNDKJA

tw. senpai kink, public sex, exhibitionism, mating press, caught masturbation, university au, virginity loss, peer pressure, belly bulge, size difference, unprotected sex, barebacking, facefucking, facial, sleazy senpai reader

Miya Atsumu, by all means, was never interested in dating or the concept of love and crushes and infatuation. All of those seemed vaguely unfamiliar to the boy who only had volleyball on his victory-hungry mind. When it came to a certain male on his team however, he would instantly lose his composure. His knees would feel like jelly whenever their fingers would brush against each others accidentally and his face would heat up like wildfire when the flirty, tall senior would attempt to flirt with him.

A crush, Miya supposed. These feelings would go away sooner or later but Osamu and his teammates who clearly caught onto Atsumu’s strange behavior, begged to differ.

More often than intended, you two would have the thickest and most uncomfortable sexual tension. And one of those instances was right now.

After one of your practice matches, you had peeled your shirt off to reveal your seemingly perfect body. Atsumu revelled in the way your skin glistened under the sheer layer of sweat coating your big arms and your toned abdomen, or the way the fabric of your shorts hung low and exposed more than what meets the eye, leaving Atsumu to imagine the rest of what laid beneath. The blonde made sure to take his sweet time memorizing every crevice of your toned stomach, failing to notice the teasing smirk plastered on your face.

Interrupting the male’s not so discreet sightseeing, you chuckled. “Enjoying the view, Tsumu?” You teased, making the said male blush embarrassedly. “N-No! Shut yer trap, Senpai!” He sneered only to receive a grin from you in reply. “You know, You’re really cute when you’re flustered, dollface.”

God, the things you did to him were dangerous and the cute pet name went straight to his cock, making it noticeably twitch against his thigh. The shorter man merely ignored your statement with a blush on his face, giving you an embarrassed wave before walking towards the locker room, “I'm gonna take a shower.”

By showering, Atsumu meant releasing his sexual frustration by jacking off to the thought of you fucking him. The wing spiker shut his eyes in pleasure as he flicked his wrist around his length shamelessly, lips parted ever so slightly as he moaned your name.

The thought of you manhandling him, having him pressed up against your chest as you fucked him raw made Atsumu shut his eyes tightly. His pace only increased as he fisted his cock much faster, imagining that it was your bigger hand instead. This was definitely more than a crush-- Miya just came to the thought of his teammate for fuck’s sake! Thank God you weren’t there to witness the sinful and humiliating act that he had just committed.

By the time he came, shooting thick ribbons of white cum onto the tile walls, he rinsed the rest of his body clean before reaching out of the stall to grab his towel. Before he could even grasp the cloth, another person snatched it before he could, making him groan frustratedly.

“‘Samu, I swear if this is you, I’ll cut yer ba—”

When Atsumu opened the shower curtain however, the culprit was not his twin brother but instead, you stood in front of him with an amused look on your face. Your teasing expression only making the shorter man gulp nervously.

Avoiding your coy gaze, you taunted, “You’re a bad boy, Atsumu.” while moving to pin the blonde against the tile walls. Atsumu let out a soft squeak, feeling your calloused fingertips rubbing teasingly against the rim of his ass.

“Touching yourself to the thought of me.” You growled, leaning in to lap at the expanse of his neck, your teeth slowly dragging against his skin leaving bite marks on the clean flesh.

The blonde let out a breathy moan, as he tried to explain himself, however his mind was clouded with nothing but lust and disbelief. “I’ll give you the real thing instead. How does that sound?” You whispered, making the blonde shake his head. “I-I don’t want to..”

As much as he desperately wanted to feel your cock messing up his insides, he was embarrassingly enough, a virgin. And to have his virginity taken in some dirty locker room had him thinking more rationally, holding himself back from succumbing into his desires.

“Why not? Are you a virgin?” You teased, making Atsumu pipe up with humiliation. “Am not!” He protested.

Not believing the blonde, your hand inched towards his ass, prodding at his entrance with one finger. The male immediately jolted forward into your chest, squeaking as you pushed the digit in. “F-feels weird…” Atsumu murmured.

Ah, a virgin. How adorable.

The best people to fuck, in your not so humble opinion, were virgins. They were quite similar to new toys— they’d have your cock inside of their cunts, getting a good feel of how big you are before they’re reduced to a sobbing mess, feeling your cock molding them into your shape.

“C’mon now, ‘Tsumu, don’t be such a buzzkill for yer senpai.” You mused, giving his ass a harsh slap. “I’ll take good care of you. I’ll be gentle.” Your words weren’t the most convincing especially paired with the predatory gaze in your eyes. Nonetheless, Atsumu complied hesitantly, deciding to trust you instead, “Ugh fine. Ya better be gentle or I’m backing out.”

‘You’d be too addicted to even think about backing out’ You thought to yourself, grinning as you pulled the blonde out of the shower, urging him to lay down on one of the benches before pulling your shorts off along with your boxers.

By no means were you remotely close to small. Atsumu shamelessly drooling at the sight of your thick cock leaking beads of precum in your hand. Miya could only gulp as you pressed the smooth head of your cock against his bottom lip, letting the fat head part his lips open. “W-Wait you won’t go too deep right?” Atsumu mumbled worriedly.

“Just trust me.” You responded, guiding the rest of your cock inside of his mouth slowly. And without a single warning, you grabbed the boy by the back of his head, pulling him in closer as he choked helplessly on your cock. “You can take it right Tsum? Senpai knows you can.” The condescending grin that wormed its way onto your lips made Atsumu moan against your cock, your hips now moving to fuck the wing spiker’s warm throat.

You could vaguely hear the sound of him choking and gurgling around your thick length, the younger man’s jaw now going slack with how long you’ve been mercilessly thrusting into his mouth. “Shh, Samu might walk in at any minute. How would he react to seeing his cute lil twin getting facefucked by his sleazy senior?” You whispered tauntingly, Miya only “mmf!”-ing in reply.

With your thrusts slowly becoming sloppy as you felt your high approaching, you took your cock of the blonde’s mouth before spilling your load on his pretty face, relishing in the way your cum dripped over the boy’s cute features. “S-Senpai…” The boy panted, shakily taking your cock in his small hand “Want more…”

Your prediction was proven to be correct. Miya Atsumu was already addicted to your cock and you haven’t even taken his virginity yet! What a charming lil whore, so easy for you to break and corrupt!

Smiling at the blonde, your fingers were now pushed against the puffy rim of his ass, the dampness from his recent shower making it much easier to prep his hole for your cock. Atsumu let out a soft gasp as you started to curl and twist your fingers inside of him, his body writhing cutely against the bench he was laying on. “Mm so tight, I can’t wait to fill this cute cunt up.”

Miya blushed at your words, the venom in your voice making him flush red with how needy he was for you. Jolting upwards, he could feel your fingers brushing against his prostate, a flurry of high pitched moans ripping past his throat as you continued to fingerfuck the poor boy. “Ssssso good~!” Squealing girlishly, Atsumu’s cock trembled before he came on his stomach.

“Fuck, you look so hot” You rasped out, admiring the way his chest heaved up and down, his oversensitive cock now twitching against his stomach. As much as you wanted to spend your time admiring the view, your patience was wearing thin, and you could barely keep yourself from climbing on top of his quivering figure, aligning the head of your cock against his puckered rim before pushing every inch inside of him. The pain was absolutely unbearable-- the thought of pushing you off of him was the only thing occupying his mind as he blinked back the fat tears forming in his eyes.

As expected, his ass felt so good wrapped around your cock. Nothing beats the feel of a freshly entered, young virgin, especially since he looked so pretty folded down on the bench with your cock filling his ass.

“It hurts! Too big--!” Atsumu whimpered, finally letting the tears he had been holding back stream down his pretty little face. You only grasped both of his legs in response, folding him with ease so that his ass was raised to take in more of your cock. With you, balls deep inside of him-- It was safe to say that Atsumu was slowly breaking. It was obvious with how his tongue was stuck out, eyes crossed lewdly as the tears, cum and drool on his face mixed messily together. The satisfaction of burying every inch of your cock inside of his ass only brought a wicked smile on to your face and it didn’t take long for you to start fucking him and breeding him against the dirty bench, each euphoric thrust sending atsumu overdrive as he breathlessly panted for more. His whimpers sent you into a frenzy, your hips pistolling deeper to abuse his prostate-- and the blonde could only scream for dear life as you pounded into his guts mercilessly.

Rich, deep moans spilled from your lips only aiding Atsumu into orgasming much faster. And Your brash, rapid thrusts made ‘Tsumu moan out in pure bliss, keeping himself balanced as he held onto your sturdy arms. “Such a fucking cockslut for a virgin.” You groaned, Driving your cock deeper inside of him so that you could marvel at the little bump bulging out of his toned stomach.

“Look at that, you can even see my cock in yer little tummy.” Teasing him never got old, especially with the cute whine that came out of his mouth. “If only the team was able to see just how much of a virgin whore you really are.”

That alone was enough to make Atsumu cum once more, and with one more drive of your hips against his colon, you watched as his body spasmed against your cock, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he cried out your name.

Although you did have a bad habit of tossing virgins away once you were done using them up, you were certain that you’d keep Miya Atsumu for a while. After all, he was quite fun to play with.