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cdragons · 8 months

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Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You

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Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Felix is delulu, Reader is stressed and homesick and kinda crazy but she a baddie, Michael is Michael, Farleigh is Farleigh, Oliver will be Oliver (a creep), and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic

Author's Note: This fic is a follow-up to this post and I would like to thank grammarly for catching all my grammatical errors 🥲, @ethereal-athalia for enabling my crazy ideas 🥰, and @valeskafics for providing me Saltburn smut when I catch myself thirsting 😇

“FUCK!” you yelled at the top of your lungs just before your nose slammed down on the dewy grass.

Groaning in pain before the mortification of realizing what had just happened kicked in.

You didn’t know what was worse: the fact you had a full front view of the giant’s junk or that he body-slammed you onto the ground and caused you to land on top of the painting worth 30% of your final grade.

You wanted to scream your head off. The paint had finally dried, and you could finally leave the studio at two in the morning. It was close to finals, and pretty much anyone on campus who didn’t get accepted because of their daddy’s bank account was in their dorms. You had hoped that this fact would mean that the paths were empty and, therefore, safe to transport your 30” x 40” canvas.

“SORRY!”

You shot your head up to locate the person who just apologized. Lo’ and behold, it was the same plastered, pasty cunt with a bird’s nest disaster of a haircut drunken idiot who decided it was a good idea to go streaking across campus. His only other distinguishable features were that he was at least 6’3” and that he had a small steel piece pierced on his face.

After the “apology,” he and his friend continued running off to God’s knows where in the dead of night—leaving you behind on the lawn with a bleeding nose, bruised knees and palms, and an oil painting that was torn and caked in mud three days before its deadline.

There was no way to redo it. The project was assigned at the beginning of October. It took 5 hours to set up the models with the motifs and lights, 3 hours to take pictures, and 10 hours to underdraw the preliminary sketch. You didn’t even want to think about the sheer number of sleepless nights you spent in the studio mixing colors and layering. On top of that, you also had your other finals in other courses to study for.

You had practically been living in that studio for the past month. All of the custodians and security guards knew you by name. You got first dibs every day when they refilled the vending machines. It was a true godsend when you didn’t have time to visit the dining halls. Everyone had been so kind and sweet to you. It was a warm welcome compared to the snark and snobbery you experienced from most of your classmates.

Crying from the devastation of the loss of your situation, your shaking legs carried your body and what remained of your work into the building. You knew that your professor stayed in her office late for grading. You could only hope that she would sympathize with your pitiful appearance.

“Wait, so did you get the extension?”

Lifting your head from the sticky library table at Bodleian’s, you stared at your best only friend, Michael Gavey, with a blank stare. You didn’t react to his wince after he took in your haggard appearance. You didn’t need a mirror to know that you looked terrible.

Your eyes were puffy and bloodshot red with dark mulberry bags underneath them. You had paled since coming to dreary England, but now you looked straight-up sickly. And if that wasn’t enough, your eyes had less life than a dead fish rotting at a Sunday Market.

Your voice was so meek that you were sure he had to strain to hear you.

“Yeah…I got it.”

You knew you had no choice but to beg your Studio Arts professor for an extension. But it killed you doing it. Professor Daria Martin was your favorite teacher and the only faculty member who actually liked you. Her support toward you meant everything to you; the last thing you wanted to do was disappoint her, let alone be the reason why she lost her job.

Your usually so snarky four-eyed friend perked up at the news.

“So, is everything okay?” he asked with hope.

Your head fell on neon-yellow ink-stained pages that filled the paperweight your ethics professor called a textbook. A bitter laugh fell from as your lips lifted to a wry, dry grin.

“Oof, not that simple, is it?” he asked.

“Is it ever?”

“So what do you have to do now?”

“Well-,” you lifted your head to take a deep breath as you started to explain, “- I still have the photos and copies of the sketch. But because the canvas was so large, it was special-ordered. That means I need to wait until another one can be delivered, and since all the works need to be completed in the studio, I can’t leave the campus.”

As you finished your explanation, Michael nodded his head in understanding before he paused, and a look of devastation painted his features.

“Wait, so does that mean-”

“I won’t be able to fly back home for the holidays.”

Fuck, you were about to cry again. You had been so excited to see your old friends and family. You remembered how absolutely homesick you were at the beginning of the term. Because you were a scholarship student from America, your parents encouraged you to settle on campus by moving to your dorm earlier than everyone else. It was bad enough that you missed Thanksgiving, but you had really set your heart on coming home for Christmas and New Year’s. What made it worse was that your parents had told you all about the dinner they had planned for your homecoming. It was going to be a feast of all your favorites.

English food sucked balls.

Your only saving grace was the Crunchie bars Michael got for you when you studied together or when you had to rewrite edit his essays.

You really DID cry after first reading his essay for Introductory English class at the beginning of the year.

“Did you try to report it?”

“Report what? ‘Hey, there’s a wasted asshole running naked across campus, and he body-slammed me to the ground and tore my fucking massive campus that blocked my view of the jackass. He’s probably richer than the goddamn Queen, given how he’s wasted right before finals.’”

“Do you have any description of him?”

“He’s a giant with a small eyebrow piercing, and his fat ass looked like it had never seen the sun.”

Without lifting your head, you heard the scrape of Michael’s chair before he walked across the table to sit in the chair next to you.

“Hey,” he began, bringing you into a warm arm hug, “it’ll be okay. You called your parents about it, right?”

“Yeah -” you sighed before continuing, “- they told me they understood and would Skype me daily.”

“See! Everything’s going to be – wait, did you say that this guy was tall?”

Furrowing your brow in confusion, you looked at your friend at the change in his tone from light and supportive to sharp and interrogative.

“Yeah?”

“How tall?”

“Umm,” you had to think about that, “I’d say he was about 6’3” or above? He was really fucking tall.”

“And he had an eyebrow piercing?”

Ok, now you were really confused. “Yes? Michael, where are you going with this?”

“I think the guy who ran you over was Felix Catton.”

You shot your favorite idiot with a deadpan glare.

“Felix Catton? The same Felix Catton who just so happens to be the same Felix Catton you hate?”

Michael solemnly nodded. “It’s him. It has to be. The only person on campus as tall as him is his cousin, and he doesn’t have piercings.”

“And he’s black.”

“Yeah, that too.”

You were skeptical, and it showed. You didn’t want to callously dismiss your friend, but you knew more than anyone how much his hatred for Oxford’s Golden Boy could impair his judgment. You were by no means a fan of the guy, but accusing someone of anything they didn’t do just because your friend thought so went against your principles.

He grabbed your arm and dragged you to the bookshelf in front of the table where Felix and his groupies sat. Both of your books and bags were in your chairs, but you managed to keep your spiral notebook with you. It wasn’t hard to find them – they were the loudest table in the entire library. They also reeked of cigarettes and booze.

“See?” Michael hissed. “Giant, pale, and eyebrow piercing. It’s him!”

“Michael,” you softly groaned, “just because you hate Felix Catton doesn’t mean you can –”

An extremely shrill voice interrupted you.

“I can’t believe you and Farleigh actually ran around campus naked!”

A petite girl with full pink lips and dull red hair latched on the arm of the man of the hour. “It was so hot to watch!”

This girl has weird-ass tastes in guys.

“And then how you crashed into that dunce at Ruskin! Brilliant!”

Your blood ran cold while another one of Catton’s faceless droning puppets chimed in.

“God, what an idiot! It’s their own fault, anyway. Who the fuck walks in the middle of the walk path with a fucking big canvas in front of them?”

One of the lessons hammered into your skull young was never to move before you think. That lesson had saved you ten ways from Sunday. But this was not one of those times.

You’re pretty sure that you hear Michael calling out your name as you walk away from the shelf and towards the overcrowded table. Tunnel vision took over you as you made your way to the overgrown idiot who almost cost you your entire future.

Grabbing the back of his shirt collar, you dragged the 6’5” towering fool on his ass all the way outside. You finally let go when the two of you reached the back of the building that had no windows.

“Hey, what the fu –”

You didn’t let him finish as you brought your fist to hit him square in the face – and, fuck, did you relish the crunch that immediately followed your swing.

Fuck, was his head killing him.

Felix should have known better than to have gotten cross-faded last night, but Farleigh had practically goaded him to do it. It’s not like his cousin ever had to worry about his grades for any of his courses during finals – the little shit-starter had always been so fucking academically gifted.

He skipped pretty much all of his morning classes and barely made it to his afternoon schedule on time while completely zoning out the entire time.

If he bombs on all his finals, his dad was going to absolutely murder him. But chances were he and his mum were going to be too busy entertaining whichever new friend his mum brought in for shelter.

“You alright there, champ?”

Felix swiveled his head too quickly and immediately groaned in pain. The motion made his hangover even worse. Rubbing his eyes to try to soothe the pounding in his head, he slowly opened them to look at his cousin.

The slag didn’t have the decency to look even a little bit affected from last night’s event – the fucker. No, he was sitting there with all Cheshire grins and gleaming eyes while Felix was two seconds from heaving his guts out.

“Yeah, I’m alright, mate.” He replied in a tired groan.

“Must have been quite the night. Wonder if it had anything to do with that little cocktail you took from our sweet Annabel’s belly button?”

Disgust was clear on Felix’s face as he recalled the body shot he had taken from his ex-FWB’s navel. He truly must have been off his rocker last night – he thought he was over with body shots since graduating secondary, but apparently not.

If he somehow got an STD from doing it, V was going to kill him.

But even with all of his horrible actions that caused the raging war inside his skull, that wasn’t the main cause of his misery.

Farleigh’s grin dropped as judgment painted his features.

“Oh,” he moaned, “please tell me this isn’t about ‘your angel’ from last night.”

He didn’t just take the dare of streaking across the grounds just for the hell of it. He needed an excuse to pass through the art building – all for the chance of seeing you.

You. His angel of paints and books who lived in the empty studio rooms of Oxford University’s Ruskin School of Art and whose presence harangued him every hour of every day. Everywhere Felix went, he would unconsciously look for you.

It was his soul calling out for yours – he knew it.

Felix had never felt so drawn to another human being in his entire existence. He’d never seen you outside of the libraries, art building, and maybe the dining hall if he was lucky. You never went to any parties or even had a drink at the pub at King’s Arms. He didn’t even have classes with you, but he knew Farleigh did. Word was that you and his cousin had shared a few classes – what’s more was that you were likely the only person who could go head-to-head with him in academics.

And to make it worse, the prat refused to tell him anything about you – not even your fucking name.

“Believe me,” he told him after Felix had been begging his cousin for hours to share anything about you, “she is way above your league.”

Which really hurt his feelings, by the way – sure, you were probably way above in book smarts, but there wasn’t a girl that remained indifferent to his charms after a good talking fucking.

“I still can’t believe you won’t at least tell me her name,” Felix complained once more, “or even just give me her number!”

“She’s an American here on scholarship and a bore,” he quipped back, “what’s there to tell? And can you please shut up? I want to get some reading done before tonight. You do remember the in-class essay we have tomorrow, right?”

Bloody hell, he did not. Pushing down the bitter feeling in his chest, he and his cousin made their way to meet everyone at the back. As soon as he sat down, Annabel clung on to his arm. Thank fuck he had been wearing one of his thicker jumpers – otherwise, her claws that she called nails would have ripped open the fabric.

“Hey, Felix!” she made sure to offer a very generous sight of her cleavage, “are you ready for tonight?”

Felix chuckled lowly before responding. “Aren’t I always?”

And just like that – he completely zoned out the rest of the conversation.

Annabel was probably saying something to get him to notice her, and Farleigh was likely responding so he wouldn’t have to – but Felix couldn’t be bothered to pretend to care.

He was lost in the living daydream that was his angel that haunted the art studios of Ruskin School of Art.

He was desperate to learn everything about you.

If he asked you to talk about your favorite books, would your eyes sparkle in delight, or would your smile widen in glee?

If he grabbed your hand, would your palms feel marred by his rough skin, or would you press your callouses to his?

If he pressed his mouth on yours, would your lips feel as soft and plump as they look? Or was their luster forever damaged by your teeth biting them whenever you were in deep concentration?

If he breathed in your scent at the crook of your neck, would your skin smell like the paints forever on your brushes or the musky pages of heavy ancient books you always carried in your arms?

If he planted kisses from your throat to your breasts, would you mewl in pleasure or whimper in anticipation?

If he touched your cunt, would you arch your back in ecstasy? Or would your legs crumble, and you would have no choice but to sink into his arms?

Felix’s thoughts were rudely interrupted when Farleigh jammed his bony elbow into his ribcage and hurriedly whispered.

“Look alive, Golden Boy.”

Looking forward, it was better than any of his wet dreams combined. It was you.

Your hair was loose, and your fists were clenched. You reminded him of a ferocious lion goddess with how focused your gaze was on him.

But before Felix would prepare himself to make a good impression, you walked behind him and grabbed the back of his shirt collar before fucking dragging his ass out of his seat and outside.

Bloody hell, for someone so much shorter than him, you were fucking strong.

When you finally released your grip, he fell on the ground like an idiot before he tried to stand and steady himself as quickly as he could.

“Hey, what the fu –”

You didn’t let him finish as you brought your fist to hit him square in the face – and, fuck, you might have actually broken his nose.

After staggering back, you started using the spiral notebook in your other hand to land blow after painful blow on his body.

“YOU. STUPID. FUCKING. INGRATE –” Each word that left your mouth was emphasized with another hit from your notebook “– I. HATE. YOU. YOU. RUINED. MY. PAINTING. I. SPENT. SO. MUCH. TIME. ON. IT. AND. NOW. I. CAN’T. GO. HOME. FOR. BREAK. BECAUSE. OF. YOUR. STUPID. SELF!”

Felix was confident you had more to say, but you were pulled off him by your friend – he’s pretty sure it’s Mitchell – by the waist with you kicking and screaming out profanities to him as your friend called out your name to try to calm you down.

He wondered what it said about him if he told anyone how much you looked like an angry cat. His parents would send him to a shrink if he told them how adorable he found you right now.

If you were this wild while fighting, he could only imagine how riled up you would get in bed.

Fuck, you might have just unlocked a new kink in him.

Catching his breath as he watched your friend drag you away into the distance, he heard a slow clap to his left.

Farleigh was leaning on the corner – his smug expression making it clear that he had seen the whole thing – as he looked at his cousin with a bemused expression before walking toward him and giving a sympathetic pat on his back.

“Well,” he started to break the tension, “at least you know her name.”

“Yeah,” Felix agreed, “I know her name.”

And he knew that you smelled more like the paints on your brushes than the books you carried with subtle notes of gardenias.

Tagging: @aemondsbabe, @ethereal-athalia, @aphroditesmoon, @barbiedragon, @valeskafics, @lexyysworld, @punkiwiki, @saltburnedme, @arcielee

Let me know if you want to be tagged for future Saltburn fics!

#saltburn x reader #saltburn #saltburn crack #saltburn au #felix catton x reader #farleigh catton #farleigh start #venetia catton #oliver quick #michael gavey #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie #michael gavey x reader

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feedernurse · 4 months

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How big would I have to make you before you start questioning it? How helpless will you become before you say anything? How far can I push you before you say something more than the concerned look in your eyes?

The truth is that you'll never actually tell me to stop. You'll let me turn you into my picture perfect piggy, with all of the heavy breathing, struggling, and teasing. I'm going to show you off to every human possible in your skimpy cloths barely covering your giant body. I'll tote you around like a trophy just to watch the normies snicker and sneer at you and how you've gotten so fat and so pathetically helpless. And when I show you off on my 600lbs life to all of America they can see how much I clearly enable you and how helpless you are to my desires

#extremely obese #death feederism #feedee girl #death feedist #gaining kink #feedee piggy #fat piggy #feeding kink #feedee belly #stuffed feedee #ssbbw feedee #death feeder #feederism kink

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lesser-mook · 7 months

Video

Footage of Texas STANDOFF With 302k Migrants on US-Mexico Border Has Gon...

https://youtu.be/cL7X4cskd8Q

(shitty *melodramatic thumbnail aside- and brace yourself this is finna get deep, 90% of this is lore)

This is like The Walking Dead Season 4, but the Zombies came with bags and are given free resources after they invade. Literally a zombie horde forcing their way in, to consume resources that should've been going to Americans.

But this sudden surge of resources given to these aliens shows that the Gov. had the means to help Americans the entire time but chose not to, which we all knew already but it's confirmed by the same people that left us to burn.

(To clarify, this isn’t on the illegal aliens entirely, like ‘let’s dehumanize these people’ because of the dumb policies our “leaders” made

Yeah some of em are coming here not for some Dream but they want free shit because Biden is an agent, ie. Who allowed them to come in here in the first place? The Illegals aren’t actually taking anything by force-- they’re being GIVEN the motherload by your own Administration)

What a joke.

Every Empire has it's fall. America. Your turn.

And how we got here starts with the simple things, like relations, tensions between the power-houses of society.

The dichotomy, Man & Woman. 2.Two forces of nature, two pieces of an incomplete entity that is the “Hu-man”

The agenda is simple, it wasn’t quick, it was a slow burn: If these two pieces fit so well together that when they are getting along, things are great, community is stronger, the culture is healthy, values/norms/standards intact- Traditional family works...but the problem is

A civilization united like that well? is a lot harder to fool/control/manipulate.

So the agenda is simple:

Keep people fighting, invent more labels, enable toxicity/ hostility in the culture, propagandize with stronger signals in the music, movies, political spectrums = Separate men and women on a cultural level. Plant a disconnect and keep it intact.

Drive the sexes apart in the intangible sphere, thought, norms.

Propagandize & overstimulate girls with a crap-ton of unrealistic expectations of themselves and men.

Give women every incentive not to be responsible with their reproductive powers, to the point young men are stuck with grown children who are looking for Papa at Ages 19-35 to pay for everything and offer next to nothing of their own accord.

The world owes you for being born female

And when every woman is a special snowflake & pandered to, womanhood is trivialized, accountability becomes an option.

It’s why your culture worships “Girl bosses”, you call your adult females “girls” so casually, it’s casual condescension. Patronizing.

It is so casual- WOMEN call each other “girls”. Reinforcing a state of infantilism.

So a bunch of girls and yet you have no “Women”, America has stopped raising women years ago.

Castrate, degrade, bash and shame men to the point where young women are now stuck with Sub-Males who are out of touch with their balls.

America doesn’t make men like they used to, they’re too busy neutering them.

And then develop fetishes wanting giant women (aka a hybrid construct of mommy/female authority issues & Gynocentric society) to castrate, degrade, bash, and subjugate themselves- They developed a fetish where they castrate themselves in the exact same fashion society does except they depict actual violence happening. Manslaughter even.

Now, what do you call a condition where a victim normalizes the abuse as a coping mechanism? Stockholm Syndrome.

Macrophilia is just an advanced/tragic case of mass Stockholm Syndrome.

See psychologists aren’t allowed to say that, they stay very neutral because that’s what keeps them employed.

But I’m not getting paid for this- so there you go. Macrophilia and it’s mother: (toxic-gynocentrism/ not Women having opportunities-- but TOXIC Gynocentrism/Female Privilege) & it’s father (misandry) are all connected.

One big inbred family of dysfunction and societal collapse (which if you pay attention that’s what a giant woman mainly does, collapse civilization, cause pain, destroy, evil-

Something women are not, just to put that out there, because I feel it’s necessary or we’ve fallen so hard as a species, that HAS to be said now. Women are not the enemy, Women are not the enemy, Men are not the enemy, Women are not the enemy of Men.

So it’d be a good idea to stop emulating the hatred that’s implanted.

Macrophiles/ or Macrocreeps as I lovingly dubbed them- are literally/indirectly/ & repeatedly communicating that women will cause or are the collapse of civilization, women being empowered means women are enemies of humanity, women are evil- the same narrative on repeat)

NOW THAT- is misogyny, 100% learned, 0% nature.

If you were raised in a small town like Black Forest (Germany):

or a Mongolian Steppe Nomad life. Healthy upbringing, healthy-equal community for men and women, away from misandry & gynocentrism, unplugged from the Matrix/ aka The HATE-trix

-you’re not going to have this crap living in your head.

You just might even have a life.

It’s why this movie (The Red Turtle) is so poetic, simple and beautiful. it displays simply what life is without the bullshit:

Every time I watch this movie, I’m reminded what the “human experience” boils down to, as repetitive as it is, it really boils down to having each other, family.

See people were freaks back in the day, but within reason, this macro-cancer wasn’t really popping back in the 70s when men and women were for the most part in an okay place.

You get more of a rise of this kind of thing when things are bad between men and women, it’s really a mirror of HOW bad it’s gotten in society or in your own childhood, your mind, your subconscious where seeds are planted.

When men & women are happy on mass, when the culture has shows like Good Times, The Cosby Show, Living single Roseanne, Full House- positive culture, when that is the repeated narrative, positivity, you tend to get positive signals implanted in the people watching it, namely children.

Fact is, you get an infection in the body when there’s a problem, not when it’s healthy, plain and simple.

See you don’t simply feel the need to replace women with a demonic sociopathic mile-high she-beast or in a neutral sense you need to have Mommy looming over you & make you feel like a loser to feel secure because the giantess needs to be MAN enough for both of you combined: (Hence, women are stuck in a generation of SUB-Males who lost touch with their balls and a lot of the time women have the carry them both)

And this has nothing to do with confidence, you can be confident and have no balls, want to be mistreated or not know what being a man is about. There’s a lot of confident losers on this planet, do not confuse the two (Confidence vs Security) together.

vs when you have actual healthy relationships with women throughout life here in reality or a society that doesn’t tell you you’re less than dirt or outright communicates you are stupid, inferior, and something that needs to be fixed or stamped out by a more competent woman presence-

Hellywood definitely hasn’t been doing that, TV shows definitely hasn’t been doing that, Culture, various IRL situations (some caught on camera) definitely hasn’t been communicating that.

One just can’t help but share that misery with the world & await a “congratulations” from fellow cult members for posting the exact same thing for the 15′000th time for the 13th year in a row.. An example of misandrist propaganda birthing a mini-industry of misandrist propaganda. (Though women are victimized as well in the fantasy, lesbians can be macrocreeps too, and the opposite spectrum exists *Giant males* but let’s focus on the popular one, women.)

The compulsion comes from the fact that it’s a generational conditioning operation. I personally think it’s unintentional, there’s no way this shit was calculated, and macrocreeps are too small a group to even be measured as a problem but the problem actually is what they represent, the question: “Where in you is that fantasy coming from?”

What they represent, and what they’re literally showing us (Cry for help / Red Flag) in the content is the concerning factor. And how *consistent it is.

A normal person gets tired of watching the same movie, playing the same game, hell- some people break up from boredom.

Most fetishists (especially macrocreeps)- DO NOT evolve, grow up or move on, they will stay on the same radio channel for- EVER. I repeat: FOREVER.

The same horror, the same scenarios but from new artists (so much talent wasted on nonsense, it physically hurts me), the same-

“me male, me insignificant, yes goddess”

disrespect/Misandry narrative on repeat and repeat and repeat. As per design.

It’s literally a case of an internet economy where nothing changes, like it’s recycling the narrative that their culture convinced them to be true.

And most will eat it up for years to come (Literal Matrix tier enslavement of the mind)- as if following an installed directive, robotic. If only that level of commitment was shown to marriages or idk actual women?

But nobody tryna have that conversation, a she-devil in your head who’s entire function is to hurt you & belittle will get more of your time, your skills, investment, devotion than women here in reality, hilarious.

(And don’t be fooled, these are everyday people, some with families, these aren’t neckbeards but men & women with serious issue, and it’s about time we stopped pretending being broken is a virtue or some kind of badass badge when at the end of the day what you’re producing is blatant misery.

It’s just ironic the level of commitment given to some lala-land kaiju, a paragon of misogyny that will NOT give you anything back in this life but wasted time, is still more effort than they’d give to women with something to offer)

And it’s even more hilarious that American birthrates started the drop just around the70s to 2020, now that is very interesting to me. Seems like the 70s was just around the tipping point for everyone over in America. Including Biden, because his stance on borders was verrrrry different way back when:

Funny how the media has all the resources to ride Trumps D 24/7 but they conveniently leave out this little gem.

.Biden In 2007_ “No Great Country Can Say It’s Secure Without Being Able To Control Its Borders”

source

And so, again, women are now stuck with a good chunk of house broken Man-children or live in a culture that cultivates this attitude where some men in a bizarre sense want to worship women to a disturbing degree and want their mother to domineer over them and tell them how insignificant they are as society successfully programed into them (rarely is it from one experience), thus women are shipwrecked in this generation with a good number of American males-

-who don’t know how to be or afraid to be men (not men’s fault). And yet the consequence is they turn to fantasy, Anime, fetishism- escapism or any escapism where they condition themselves to have unreasonable expectations of girls and women’s behavior, bodies & themselves.

All to overcompensate what they couldn’t or CHOOSE not to step up to be in reality as men.

Keyword: They <choose> fantasyland over choosing to be better, which is 100% in their control. They’d rather play victim in a fantasy where they lose control instead of growing a goddamn pair.

Product of the times.

Modern day wars on masculinity is what happens when we are taught women have a right to say “no” (True) but as a society we never tell a woman “no”. (A problem)

A woman happily serving the husband is toxic & repressive, but “Happy wife, Happy life” is normalization of men suffering in silence as long as their domestic adult-baby is pacified.

Notice how I’m throwing haymakers in both directions, because either way you slice it (and yes, it does go both ways) on either side it’s not efficient nor sustainable, as we’re now seeing. Everyone actually, because the Americans aren’t the only one’s suffering dropping births.

But it’s only okay when women get the better end of the deal. But the punchline is women aren’t receiving anything good from an atmosphere like this.

Do women today feel safe? Do they trust the men of their country? (that is a big one), Does their culture prepare girls or pander to them to keep them in a box? Because padding women’s ego’s is a subtle form of control by giving women the illusion of agency.

That’s the ultimate fallacy of a Giant Woman being used by Feminists as an empowerment symbol, and Fetishists as a symbol of power: When in fact, a woman that big has even less control over her life because her interaction with civilization (and all the resources they have that she NEEDS from care to tampons) is now limited. The gigantism is fallacy in itself.

The illusion of control.

Inflating the importance of a woman’s “independence” from men in society (when it’s not dependence to be with a man, it’s coexistence)

Some society shame the egos of men because they are afraid of what men are capable of when things go wrong (Shootings, R*pe, murder).

When all that needs to be done is to teach boys & men to regulate and channel their ego instead of snuffing it out, teach principle, not hedonism.

Abusing boys, drugging them up to stay still & smothering masculinity because the result is that a lot of men now think they have no power and some believe & revel in the narrative they should have no confidence or power and only women should be allowed to have an ego & overwhelming advantage (Gynocentrism).

When it's just another perpetuated narrative (harming women & men) that men should be nerfed because they're a threat and not women because-

women aren't a threat. Apparently only in a fantasy are they anything close to a danger.

Exacerbating a woman's ego because you or the system presumes they won't ever do anything about it, zero threat.

That’s why American culture is biased toward women so hard: They don’t take you seriously.

Misandry is when the village fears men

Gynocentrism is the result of underestimating women's egos, underestimating women, painfully so.

Which is also why these macrocreeps use the fetish so they can fabricate a woman with near omnipotence over the “tiny”,

Some psychologist taking on macrophilia theorize (paraphrasing): ‘Macrophiles seek to create women with overwhelming power in light of society lacking female empowerment’...... uhhhhhh excuse you, where have you been in the past 15-20 years of American pop culture & real time events?

A “LACK” of Female empowerment? What?!

Women are in fact doing better than the fellas.

This is a brutal form of gaslighting harder than a politician.

And you want to know the most insulting part? Their assertion It’s conceivable to an extent but they never dig deeper.

Example: Most of these qualified people will use the “lack of female empowerment” point but rarely do any of them mention the rampant misandry in society & the culture inflating women’s egos, more so the normalization/glorification of male expendability as a logical alternate or logically the primary reason why Macrophilia has taken root in this era specifically to glorify what? You guessed it Glorification of male expendability and inflating the hubris of a woman.

Coincidence, it’s all coincidence.

But you see, when you say men wanting to be destroyed is because of gynocentric society lacking female empowerment: That’s another way of saying:

It’s not the fault of culture putting women on a pedestal at men’s expense as to why men developed stockholm syndrome where they also put women on a pedestal at men’s expense, even to the point of desiring their own oblivion- #Deflection

No instead they assert or suggest women aren’t being gassed up ENOUGH!!!

So it’s not about men & women being culturally (& possibly at some point physically or emotionally) abused and propagandized-

let’s make it about women not getting enough pandering, reinforcement, benefits, exceptions, compliments, priority, priority priority, priority. PEDESTAL.

(I think you get it, and I also think you see the problem. Men ARE ALWAYS AT THE BOTTOM, even in a situation where they are the focus per the fetish & might look to these psychologists for answers, somehow these people still make women out to be the victims anyway because society isn’t doing enough, so women deserve more more more.)

THAT right there is the freaking problem, not that women are involved in the conversation, but the fact that men are shelved yet again to make it about women.

But so many go to these pages for answers to be met with enabling the problem further, thus the source of the problem is lying in the place you go to get answers, how ironic.

The dishonesty with some of these professionals is astounding, and you know what? I don’t think they’re doing it on purpose, that’s the scary part for me.

But yes, I do believe a lot of these people are holding back information or a degree of transparency to prevent from seeming like a persecutor.

Listen, I get empathy, you can’t just come at people any type of way. But if we’re going to get to the bottom of this, we have to stop holding people’s hands. The truth doesn’t exist to breastfeed you, the entire point is to enlighten, teach, and if that involved discomfort that means it’s working.

And saying essentially ‘women deserve better’ is why men glorify women destroying humanity is just signaling more entitlement, toxicity, excuses, zero accountability.

And worse? Enabling people to worship Anti-Humanity obsessions.

This isn’t about accountability of women, not this time, Macrophilia wasn’t created by women, it was created by the overall culture, the village, the atmosphere that enabled female privilege, how matriarchal society is despite how patriarchal civilization is or was, but society? Is very matriarchal, Gyno (Women)- Centric.

Namely the people on top that own these companies, these news, media platforms of all types, owning everything we see (global too)- that are pushing the narrative.

Then we wonder why so many ladies are infantile and panic whenever asked “What do you bring to the table?”, this is not women’s fault, mind you.

How are women supposed to answer the question, when they’re taught that they have all the answers, they’re bosses, they’re in charge, they run the world, the future is female, girlpower, #girlpower, #GIRLPOWER, empowerment, ass-kissing-

WOMAN WORSHIP culture. (Macrocreeps anyone?)

That’s what’s pumped into the average Americano lady like crack, like being reliant on the world to tell them they’re awesome. And then they grow up (physically), trained to be reliant on external validation for life-

A form of control over a woman’s mind, not fantasy but here in reality.

Spend a lifetime with a phone in your hand, depending on anon’s to signal they want to sleep with you instead using those hands of yours to actually build something or spread something constructive, like the truth, or a song, or a story, an empire, create something, anything other than your Two-Millionth selfie for the day.

That’s the sick joke: It comes off as America’s boner for Female Security when it’s female subjugation/pacification, on top of male subjugation/castration. Both parties are trivialized as a result. Nobody wins, nobody.

Everyone’s a prisoner. That’s the point.

A giant 5′000ft tall woman destroys civilization, kills everyone.

She laughs about it, gets off on it, and then what? She’s left stuck as a giant, no grocery to shop from, no one to love her, no one to talk to, no dental care, no resources, no infrastructure, no friends, no home, no support system, she’ll starve, she’ll dehydrate, she’ll get lonely, she’ll die alone. No fucking point, that’s the part of the fantasy these muppets very conveniently leave out, reality. Strength for days, but zero power.

The natural consequence of the fantasy emulates reality. Nobody wins, nobody. Not even in fantasy.

No intimacy, just horror, ugliness, death, destruction and emptiness.

Because that’s what women are, amiright boys?

The common theme? I repeat, Nobody wins.

It’s so closely similar in both fantasy & reality, the parallels are blood related (Hence my mother & child analogy).

Propaganda is scary like that and moreso predictable, as are fetishists.

We underestimate the effects of what children internalize (regardless of how minor the experience is) & regurgitate it and the fact that we don’t stop doing that emulation when we become adults.

It’s how we read rooms, social cues, our lovers or dangers, develop traumas.

We see, then spread the message. Whether it be school, a cool line from a movie, a song stuck in your head, an insult that sticks with you, someone intimidating you, threatening you, or you being threatened by a misunderstanding, a compliment etc.

No difference.

We need less female empowerment, and more mentors.

Respect to women as humans first, and not singling them out constantly as “first woman to do-” something a man did 75 years ago. Patronizing women and making them like being a participation winner.

Mentor girls of womanhood as a principle, aka accountability, protecting your reproductive powers, not giving it away.

America panders to female ego but does not respect womanhood.

Society failed women and men by convincing us women are the exception when they actually deserve less- until they’re willing to contribute something beside an open hand in a relationship.

You don’t get to win by just showing up.

women need to learn what earning a man’s time, money/ His life, His sacrifice,

What earning his LIFE for hers really means.

Women need to learn what it means to earn that shit, I swear to god, a man’s life is so trivialized now, women don’t even think about what a big deal it is for man to just pay his life as a toll for hers to go on 5 more seconds.

It’s disgusting how overlooked that is, but I keep hearing “As he should”, WHOO buddy. Americans are beyond lost baby.

But you see in 15 years or less that’ll be considered “hate speech” or a thought-crime, or perhaps this entire rant would be worth an insta-trip to ban world.

because #MenAreTrash is trendy that’s fine 100% males don’t have feelings right but the same time we want them to be sensitive, but not too sensitive or else he’s a man-child. It’s never enough.

#MenNeedToStepUp we can agree on 100%, but #WomenDoBetter or #WomenNeedToEarnAMan is misogyny

Everything is misogyny when name calling or witch-hunts aka “Cancel culture” (how it’s called today)- doesn’t work.

Right, keep that up. Doing a good job so far, lmfao.

But gee, I can’t figure out why the birthrates are falling

& men are flocking to other countries for real women? When there’s plenty in America, far in-between but they do exist.

All we wanted to do was just treat men/husbands/fathers like second class citizens, like idiots- so horrifically mistreated that the goofballs went & created a fetish/Cult where they actually enable each other to want to be treated like second class citizens.

ZERO connection, all coincidence!

Wanting Women to be their gods and mistreat or destroy them and the whole of civilization: um wow.

Did you even have a mother? I mean My God, what happened?!

You know, ZERO red flags there. Nothing to see here. Everything is fine. Go back to deviantart, enjoy the genocide.

No btw, I AM NOT shitting you, this is real.

(And the access to A.I art made it SOOOOO much worse, now these lovable dorks can just spawn the most horrific shit with zero effort now)

If you didn’t think that group’s issues weren’t that deep? (because naturally, they’re just minding their business beating off/worshipping human genocide- until you realize how comfortable they’re getting, too damn comfortable, normalizing the most anti-human shit, it makes you question if you’re even awake sometimes)

Trust me, a good majority of them don’t even know where their obsession came from--- AND that is the point of propaganda, subtle, like a socio-cultural virus. A weapon for your mind. neurological malware.

I repeat: Neurological/Socio-Cultural Malware for your mind. A prison for your mind. It used to be heroin, still is for some, but now fantasy is the new drug, no drugs in your system, not “harming anyone” but that justification to keep doing it is why the prison is that much stronger. You tell yourself there’s no problem because no one’s hurt, you’ll keep doing it for the rest of your life.

The change begins when we allow ourselves to stop lying to ourselves.

And again, to no one’s surprise (Brain mappings show fetishism or sex addiction is parallel to addictive habits like drugs, alcoholism, etc.) So no, not harming anyone (until it does) but yourself through re-wiring what your brain imprints on, I believe it’s through firing signals via the synapse endings at climax, like you’re physically making changes to your brain on a microscopic scale.

That is precisely why breaking the habit is difficult and the more rewarding, with any bad habit btw.

Fact is, Nobody knows exactly when a virus gets in your body or your pc/phone machine, but when it’s in, it’s on you to do something about it or cope with it by not coping at all.

Superboy-Prime’s level of petty is not even close to an average GTS NPC, and ironically he could solo 99.99999999% of them all, even the god level one’s. And he’s smaller than most of them-

So yeah, despite having the word in their mouths 24/7, macrocreeps don’t really understand what “power” is, lol.

Even if it’s a gentle scenario or the cringe “unaware” crap (where the appeal is more manslaughter but the excitement is she’s doing it unintentionally *yes, society failed this hard*)

The visual point of a woman being bigger by that much is visually signalling: “superiority”, female supremacy, gynocentrism. Males being lesser, weaker, vulnerable, under control, a security/self-esteem/ ultimately a Life-skill issue- that is the point.

It’s always a “power-” dynamic scramble, it’s so toxic and dysfunctional.

To belabor the point, It’s no accident that what American society (from movies to articles) is pumping into you guys, is exactly what these cats worship with a level of dedication that makes Christians look like amateurs.

They could legitimately begin a religion, I’m actually genuinely surprised they haven’t by now.

In this context though, in Fantasyland where genocide is a goddamn game, that’s the entire appeal, #SizeDifference #Macro #Giantess #GiantessCrush #Sizeplay SizeSIZEsizesizesizesizesizesize, it’s really unhealthy.

Hence Fetish hence “Obsession”, that’s what fetish means = You have nothing better to do.

This is why macrophilia is so unique though, solely because of how relevant it is to this era, the socio-cultural relevance.

And the reason for that (again) is this toxic gynocentric era in the west/ First world countries in general enabled it/ birthed it/ cultivated it in the first place.

Hear me: Macrophilia (One obsession) didn’t cause the problems between men and women, it is simply one of many manifestations/ & ultimately a spawn of these problems.

It’s literally an example of what your civilization did horribly wrong whilst trying to empower women, you left men behind.

Worldwide issue btw, Macrohphilia is not exclusive to America, neither is toxic-Gynocentrism. But America is Gold Medal champ in making their Men are 100% aware they are expendable to society, made to feel inept or stupid, should do more, here’s a superhero movie showing a guy being cool but IRL we’ll treat you like garbage in policies & law making.

A lot of Japanese are into MacroCultisms, to no one’s surprise.

Not in the 50s to 70s, but during the 90s, post-Internet 2000s era is when it really sparked, now all of a sudden we got a huge influx of goofballs wanting women to commit mass genocides on entire cities (Which involves children & babies- #ThisIsFine) or men the size of germs shrining women for existing, living on their bodies like Demodex (your hair mites)... just the most mind-numbing shit just to feel like you’re worthless, on purpose.

Kind of like the narrative privileged society pumps into you? #FutureisFemale (How inclusive)

Or articles propagating that men are “Falling behind”, any & every excuse to plant seeds of disconnect and potential resentment, always negative.

The goal is to propagandize female supremacy to either frustrate men into resenting women (some of MGTOW), turn them paranoid (Anti-Woke Tards that complain about any movie with a female lead or women doing anything cool or competent), or straight up break them like dogs & the victims will ask for more (Macrocreeps)

or turn them indifferent, numb to even want to say or do anything about the problem. Men who unplugged and absolutely do not care anymore.

A lot of Men have been whipped & brutally trained by their own culture to be and somehow want to be second/third class citizens in some respects. and you’ll have attention seeking narcissist women infiltrating these communities garnering a following calling themselves “Goddess- [insert name]” , absolute silliness, just the most infantile stupid crap you’ll ever see.

The strongest degree of secondhand embarrassment I’ve ever experienced, it’s like watching younger siblings just ruin....everything they touch for no reason.

These women banking on the insecurity of thousands of men who just need help or a fucking hug.

And the simple chemistry of men and women boils down to: SEX, connection, life, be happy. That’s it. That’s really all people want.

How do you complicate that, this badly? And it NOT be an artificial catalyst that caused it, life was not designed to be this convoluted & silly. This is what happens when you make relations between men and women more complicated than necessary.

Otherwise, frankly: How does genocide correlate with sex.

Vore? Still cringe, but at least you can loosely correlate that with oral sex, digestion (psychotic) but believe it or not it’s wanting to be in the womb again.

(Male or female) it applies, yes brains are stupid like that. This is why what you ingest through the eyes to your soul is important, most people don’t even know where the impulses are coming from but WELP *wank wank

KNOW THYSELF. FREE THYSELF. Ya’ll better watch The Matrix again and really listen to what it’s telling you, not “was” telling, what IT IS telling us, still today.

“A prison for your mind.”, notice how The Matrix in context was a “Fantasy” land/ distracting from the real war going on outside of the fantasy, outside of the prison.

We better catch what these films are communicating.

Back on topic, how does being abused/bullied/destroyed/digested/ all of this crap by women- relate to sex and making love and NOT be related to some psychological struggles or a mass installation op. Even if unintentional.

Propaganda, abuse, societal/generational neglect. That’s how. Genocide ain’t it boi, something upstairs went sleep mode & it needs to wake up.

“The sleeper must awaken.“

I’m not smart at all, I just know what shit smells like and I’m more than willing to step on toes, and happily brave a ban or 2 if it means saying what apparently no one wants to say because we have this unspoken rule that all kinks are sacred & immune to judgement.

HA!, I don’t know what planet you came from, but that’s not how life works buddy. Whenever I tell fetishist this, they shut down completely or unravel, their confidence just goes away like fart.

Why?

Because they rely on the world saying “Sorry, carry on.” Nope! That’s not how life works. A fetish is not a baby, so adopting it gives absolutely nothing to us.

Really, all we have to do is pay attention to the world in real time and the rest sorts itself out. But our everyday can muddy & blur the lines, I get it, and that’s part of the game. Blue Pill baby, it was never about being asleep, it’s about being distracted.

“You need to see.“

- Jamis (DUNE PART TWO)

Some of these hombre’s aren’t even abused as kids, sometimes all it takes is one awkward moment with a girl overpowering you verbally or physically, a moment of vulnerability, or you get yelled at by an adult woman, or you see abuse or a woman having an overwhelming advantage in a movie and society does the rest with crap like #GirlsRunTheWorld over and over and over again-

No strong male role models to build up a healthy ego, or no dad at all, or a competent father, or even a big brother or sister, then when your confidence isn’t properly built (by your parents or environment) in time when you see something that makes you feel inferior or put-off and your mind can’t register it properly.

Like psychological indigestion and or in layman’s terms “Intrusive thought” that manifests into something it shouldn’t.

So it doesn’t bounce off as it should, or make you mad & you reject the negative signal.- instead it actually sinks into you, you internalize it. And it sits there, and sits there, & you keep seeing things in shows, feeding that seed.

And through a coping mechanism post-puberty where your hormones turn off your intelligence entirely (Yes, Sex chemicals actually make you stupid by design), where you then normalize the toxicity because it’s women doing it, and women are attractive. So genocide is a good thing if a woman does, because women are hot.

You’re horny now + the epic scale of giant women having near omnipotent control over your fate provides unrivaled excitement & dopamine levels that no woman could or would even want to measure up to (Cause it’s goofy af, Gulliver’s Travels #headass).

Then the newborn fetishist propagates #Giantessisms over and over and over again with the unbridled freedom of the web- ready to act a fool.

And the ever so convenient echo-chamber of fetish spaces where everything you do and say came straight from Christ himself, where you’ll receive ZERO challenge. (Another part of the problem)

Indulge comfortably until someone, eventually goes against the grain in 4-15 years, roasting it- and then your defenses activate. Because how dare they insult something that provides absolutely zero value or tangible substance to your life amiright?

But my oh my, I don’t know where it came from, I guess it’s always been there but It’s pretty much my personality and ”a part of my identity”....it’s a “hobby”

-some say this crap, of course on threads where the likeminded are & will upvote everything they say, naturally naturally.

Challenge is their Kryptonite. Questions make everyone queasy.

Painting women as inhuman psychopaths is a HOBBY. Riiiiiight, Okay then.

Pretending in make believe land that you’re a tyrannical burden to the society that would bend over backwards to protect you at the expense of men, any day of the week.

You actually want to be an evil & mortal danger to people if means your fragile ego getting a stroke from being a couple meters/Mile taller than everyone else, for a sense of control you obviously can’t manage to obtain as a competent adult here in reality. That’s part of your “identity”? Oooooooookay then.

Definitely not overcompensating for anything.

But don’t judge them though, you don’t want to hurt anyone’s fee’s fee’s now do you? You don’t want to be a meanie or a bad person.

Because saying nothing & pretending “This is fine” has worked out so well for mankind thus far right?

Just ask Japan 2023 (Age of consent raise in that year, look it up. *If I talk about it, that’s going to be another essay, let’s stay focused:

Sexes Disconnect/Gynocentrism/Gynocentric-Fetishism/Birthrates/Illegals/Decline ) 🚨

Cycle of toxicity birthing more cycles..

The biggest woman you see first/imprint on in life is ideally your mother-figure.

These cats just want mommy, thus from the place of a child (thus small like a child) so macrophilia has some PeterPan syndrome-isms in it’s core, thus to no one’s surprise this is a very cringe case of some suspended development because for most, all of this started when they were at their smallest & VULNERABLE to begin with.

“Vulnerable“, something they want to feel. That’s part of the high. “Helpless“, you’ll hear that term a lot in their subtext, it’s like a religious mantra next to “insignificant“, they LOVE that one, holy shit is that one a cult favorite line. (Z from ANTZ #headass, “You’re right Z, you are insignificant.”)

I’m telling you, all you have to do is pay attention. How our brains work is not that complicated especially when what these innocent goofs choose to share with us is literally spelling out the picture- How can I tell? Consistency and the fact that they NEED the world to know, like a cry for help:

Except they’re getting likes & money, and not a fuck to give to provide a solution vs exacerbation.

And no, unlike what some of these exploitative women will say: NO providing an outlet or safe-space for these little angels is not therapeutic.

Therapy is an actual solution, letting it go is a solution. Indulgence? Is like dumping a truck full of “happy snow” in a rehab center and then calling that “therapeutic”.

The women arguing this want their meal tickets to stay delusional, stay deranged and remain imprisoned. Money baby, it’s all money.

This fetish became an industry, like many tend to do.

The repetitive nature of the “content” is too consistent, Artwork evolves it’s narrative. Art changes.

(I repeat) But this? It stays the exact same, same narrative, same bloodshed, same dialogue, all that’s different is the production value and who it’s coming from.

And yes, all of this & others mentioned prior contributes or related to the birthrates issue (China, Japan, Russia & others suffer this too), thus this illegal invasion in America.

All of it is connected, all of it, this isn’t the usual rambling session or tangent. There’s a point to this entire lecture, this is actual lore for the movie you’re living in.

The Twilight Zone episode that will not end even after you do.

These are real people, it’s not doing America any favors pretending these clowns/more-so the implication and subtext of their issues or more importantly THE issue doesn’t exist.

It’s the same with Japanese men and their infatuation with Anime culture & how that mega industry and so many other factors are causing Japan’s own falling births, social shut-in’s, etc.

We can’t just ignore this crap because no one wants to be “that guy”, screw that. Nothing’s gonna get done if we’re stuck in our own little worlds.

Doesn’t make sense to have the Internet and be this connected & still be so distant at the same time.

We gotta at least address the roots of the issues while having fun-

That’s the operative concern, what caused the phenomenon in the first place, how do these obsessions work, why, and where is it coming from?

And why is it almost prophetic? Like a warning.

This isn’t about Macrocreeps being the problem, they’re a result.

This ain’t about coming after them, though it’s been high time somebody put their ass on blast, so long overdue, holy shit.

Because if you step back and really look at the concept of a giant woman committing genocide because her job sucks or she needed to bigger just to feel good about herself instead of just getting her life together?

It’s pretty silly lol, infantile even.

But this is really about the subtext, that they are living breathing red-flags/reminders that your culture is failing and it’s failing everyone.

Woman is god, male subjugation good, women destroy civilization (including killing kids & babies by the thousands apparently, so marcocreeps are indirectly beating to slaughter of children, yaaaay) and yes, some also sexualize children too, casually.

Japan would be proud or as of 2023, maybe not? Lol.

Wash rinse repeat, it’s never enough. Men, humans, animals, life needs to be red paste on the bottom of a woman’s feet or else the itch isn’t scratched.

For an average macrochump to feel some sort of sexual vindication in the context of the fantasy: Women. The ONLY natural threshold of human life, absolutely need need to trample, torture, and destroy life.

That is indicative of something very concerning.

This is what I mean when I say Macrophilia is at it’s core: Anti-Human

That is straight misogyny, and I’m one of those people that hate the overuse of the word “misogyny”, I never use it but here I am using it (If I’m not mistaken for the first time in serious context) because this is actually that disturbing.

Click “upvote” on the psychopath content (”content” lmfao, more like commissioned propaganda)

comment for more, make video games repeating the same exact, and I do mean SAME EXACT narrative.

(Yes, these goofballs make games & comics *they’re shit storytelling btw, absolute garbage, it’s not even appropriate for ironic cringe, it’s just bad*, it’s not creative either. But the lengths they go to to realize the exact same talking point they’ve heard a million times? The sheer determination to want to be demeaned, disrespected, & bullied by women and girls? That’s the impressive part. Again, I sincerely doubt they’d put that same effort in their kids. Just saying.)

further internalize male self-hatred as you were programmed to do so. Follow the script. Question nothing. Consume. Consume. Consume. Indulge, sink, drown.

You’d think they’d get bored of it, or maturity would fight it’s hardest to tame that beast of a brain in one’s cranium, and fit some sanity in there. God forbid

All in all, The American Culture state has weaponized women against men for decades now- so the fetish itself is not surprising or a shock.

Men or women wanting to give up “control” for a sense of security in being ruled or abused in every way possible by a giant entity (male or female) sounds ideal for a (giant entity) state/society/government that literally would love love loooove for men (aka the first & last line of defense of civilization) or women (first, second and last line of defense to the children AND the only natural threshold of new life) to bow down, and want to be slaves.

So (in general) if your protectors are too busy kissing the ground, who’s protecting you?

It’s why so many women are wondering what happened to men? Where did the men go? Why aren’t men performing?

To put it simply (fetish or no fetish), a lot of western men:

They’re broken. Tamed. Clipped. Sterilized. By the same entity that tells you you can have it all “The Party”, The collective, society, the entity, the giant.

Because there’s a lot more men committing self-termination than women, look it up. They’re suffering.

So most, not all- But all in all, women need better “uplifting” messages and the men are in serious need of society giving a crap about them.

It starts in the home, both the solution and the problem starts at home and the village/society. Because parents can do everything right and society will undo 70% of that work.

I’ve said all this before, and I will keep saying it until I’m dead & probably still talking & ranting from beyond the grave.

If I personally wanted to "RIP” a country, “If.” Theoretically

I would convince the men that being a man is toxic, that they shouldn’t be men, to the point where they actually want to give up their manhood.

Enable a superiority complex in the women regarding the men, to keep them in a constant state of resentment & entitlement and they don’t even know why. And the men are so passive & broken, they won’t challenge the women unless pushed, and when pushed, they will be frustrated, & what could result in a solution will just deepen the resentment on both sides.

And while one group is insufferable and the other one is groveling and pathetic and angry, or they just fight each other- The children are now exposed.

Corrupt the children, you take that country’s future. Checkmate.

Same with race.

Not a nuke, not poisoning the water- but poison how the people see each other.

Corrupt what they believe until they believe in nothing at all, not even in themselves, let alone their Gov., let alone their Homeland. Poison the culture. Keep them fighting, so when I do pull up on their doorstep, it’s too late.

[Destroy the traditional family first, the pillars. Trivialize values until you stand for nothing: Destroy the country]

Convince the Protector Class/Men they should want to be destroyed by the group of people they should be protecting in the first fucking place: That is the power of propaganda people, corruption of the natural instinct. Anti-Human.

Size is not power,

controlling what you see, influencing what you should think, what you don’t believe, who you hate, how to hate, what to hate, what to see as good, even now influence what you obsess over- To control how the world changes, controlling the triggers to your mind, propaganda, knowing you better than you know yourself, how to speak, what to say, weaponizing the mind against you, propaganda, that is power.

Message = Power

Always has been.

This is psychological warfare in real time. Brain-Malware, this is not a joke.

And trust and believe, I actually do have better things to do, I only talk this much because I actually give a hoot.

It’s just a crime that professionals with lengthier credentials WILL NOT tell you any of this.

Propaganda is CONTROL, and can convince you to give yours up.

Propaganda hurts you and conditions you to want to be hurt by the other half of humanity who’s entire instinct is community, birthing life, emotional propensity strength & nurturing. Things that glue civilization together.

Things that are trivialized by civilization but things that civilization needs to stay intact, that only women provide in a way only women (as a collective) can. That’s womanhood, but you’ll sooner hear about empowerment on a corporate ad on Youtube to sell some damn soap than these companies tell you (what I just said) that truth because people actually NEED to see and hear this.

Hear me out, women are physically softer, designed to be more pleasant and lovable to appeal. Even an average woman’s voice triggers pleasure chemicals in your brain.

But somehow the popular obsessive scenario in the cult is women destroying everything, with a smile, with pleasure, and obscene satisfaction. Absolute demon-spawn who’s birth is a mistake.

Sooooo the overtone being, again, that a woman with any power- is a threat to civilization? A threat to men.

Wow, that’s how you feel? Lmfao! Again, smells like misogyny. Smells like an implanted narrative.

See, majority of the “GTS” (Gratuitous Trivial Silliness) -producers just conjure their content to receive likes, appease the intrusive thoughts living rent-free in their head and most importantly validation for their Misandrist-macabre & maybe money from the fellow members.

The actual overtones of what they’re spreading out in the Human races digital continuity (Inter-Nets) and how that insults/slanders women or what that says about them because that’s coming from their own heart & mind about women- that will never sink in for them to devote 5 seconds of self-awareness.

Or they did, and just don’t care because they know nobody replying will say anything less than “More please!”

Too much dopamine addiction to the validation to properly think about the subtext or what they’re actually communicating by drawing/shooting/programming the same crap over and over again.

A beautifully implanted rotted seed (on part of the powers sabotaging men & women), twisted, horrifically sick joke.

Completely Anti-Human narrative, because who even portrays women like that, all women wanted was Equality. Why do we absolutely need them to loom over us like overlords when they actually just want someone to love them, listen to them, and see them? Flaws and all.

That’s all women want. Women are not a mystery, they’re just made to be complicated by the media & hacks that dictate the prevailing narrative that articles spread like wildfire, because women being complicated helps the disconnection. It romanticizes it.

Tell someone a lie enough times then it becomes true.

Some bro’s propagate “Woman with power is a man’s undoing” / “The threshold of life being the merchants of death” for a living and sleep at night without considering “Why is that coming from inside me” ?

Nothing.

This is why accountability, judgement, criticism is necessary.

It helps prevent society from becoming a mass asylum (where it gets to a point where a woman who steps on toys for a living is actually given an interview, yes this happened).

It never “hurts anyone” until it does-

Just. Ask. JAPAN.

(’2023 Japan Age of Consent Law change’, look it up and look up why they changed it)

Some commenter said something simple yet true on the same video where some goofy attention seeking woman who sells videos of herself stepping on plastic toys & sells said footage to mouth-breathers, she ultimately claimed “I’m a Giantess” (*nice job parents, good to know where Americano Tax dollars went)

And the commenter didn’t insult her, they didn’t say anything wild, no essay, no lecture, not even something I personally expected, they said simply:

“Western society has derailed.”,

that’s it. It’s not profound, but it’s so candid & haunting.

That stuck with me.

Because that’s the point.

And then if you’re not dealing with human footstools who want to be literal pets for giant-women, you have the other end of the spectrum: Man-Boyos who are actually toxic, the kind that grooms, unwanted advances persist then calls you a “bitch” because the situation didn’t play out how it did in his head, the R*9ists, harassers, stalkers etc.

Plenty of confidence, but misplaced, no humility, no maturity, nothing intelligent to say but talking the loudest. Can’t tell you how many times I almost threw hands with those types of dudes.

And in-between, you have the normies just trying to keep their heads down, live out whatever’s left of the “American Dream/ Theory”, racking up 50 exes every 6 months trying to figure it out because the only legacy society has to pass down to you is failure.

Consider this hookup culture where women are expected by a lot of men to be LVL99 Sexperts but if she’s had too many partners she’s considered damaged/used up/monkey branching by MGTOW groups...who in concept should be a good thing, some good messages, but overall just boil down to divorcees & bitters bashing women while sprinkling “male empowerment” on top of it.

Again, we need less empowerment and more principles. With principles, you won’t need someone rubbing your belly telling you you’re a special girl or a special boy.

She hits 30, she’s over the hill when actually 30-35 is physically prime time to have babies. 20-30 should be young women figuring it out (mentally, existential), as with any adult.

Or women told/encouraged to “experiment” or made to think they can have the swingers life at 19 and then settle down when it’s convenient.

Which they can, however, consequences don’t take a break because you’ve been taught to think that’s having fun- Then they’re worn & torn before they’re 25, just way too eager to sleep with 70% of America, like slow the hell down, jfc.

Have a laundry list of expectations for a man, but who you are doesn’t match half the good things you expect from him- How is that a recipe for success?

Just having your cake, eating it, and choking on it on both sides.

Both sides have podcasts asking “what happened?” or pointing the finger to the other side, when in reality--

We’re not enemies nor meant to fight in nature, powerful women are not a threat, civilization NEEDS that. We need more women that earn their power, & have something offer.

A woman with advantage is not something that will threaten civilization, that’s advancement you goofballs lol.

Ad proud men aren’t something to keep caged, broken and exercised.

We’re not even designed to fight each other. This is precisely the point as to how forced this all is.

We’re set up to be fractured and wedged from each other in a cultural sense. (because obviously people are still bumpin hips & having kids but some are not raising em worth a crap or training them to be useful or struggling to give them something good, or raising them up right just to be corrupted as soon as they leave the house, sometimes even earlier. some sects of Society are not even hiding that they are “coming for your kids”)

“Everyone knows what sex is, a lot of people know how to fuck. Nobody ‘makes love’ anymore.”

SO point being, finally, again: Propaganda is POWER. Propaganda is control (Not a new concept, it’s been said before). It creates delusions/& apparently fetishism. It creates false realities, conflict, disconnect. Lies. Lies. Lies. Propaganda is CONTROL.

“power & control“, two words macrocreeps obsess over in fantasyland- same two concepts that propaganda is meant to take away from you. That is NOT an accident.

Drive the American sexes apart, division makes for a weaker people, weaker people are easier to control, birthrates dropping since the 70s (Not an accident, look it up & it’s got nothing to do with women going to school and getting jobs)

And now Biden or the powers above him are making up the difference with an influx of illegals to compensate for what Americans are not birthing because of the disconnect and all the various side-effects of that and the propaganda.

American Feds has always been lacking, but this level of incompetence is not accidental. It’s sabotage. And it’s not new, it’s no different from how dope is implanted in Black communities so the community eats itself alive, remaining behind and seemingly primal.

Think about it, why would we need a New World Order, if one of the most iconic Empires on the planet is successful, healthy and thriving economically?

The answer is, you wouldn’t need a NWO if the U.S. is King or a threat or taken seriously.

(Even if you’re not the biggest fan of American history, or the current reputation they have with their poor wokeness & political embarrassments. Do not underestimate just how many countries look to America for reinforcement and an example & always have.)

So to fix that, you prevent The United States of America from EVER becoming a threat again.

And instead of picking a fight on the outside- infiltrate their political parties, infiltrate their culture, their pop-culture, propagandize what they watch, what the masses internalize, break the family down, drive apart men & women, promote alternative lifestyles, make truth an “insensitivity”, speaking truth punishable by legal persecution or being banned from social media (which is akin to erasing your existence in the modern age), and plant agents in the Senate that will (by vote) prevent any progress for the American people:

(Think in Newspeak or be banned for ‘violating community guidelines’, you vulgar swine) aka

“Social Media” aka 1984: The Prototype

“there is no war in ba sing se”

Pay off the leader to literally allow illegals (that coincidentally involve a good number of your own nationals) into their country and make the legal citizens who are already desperate for better healthcare to then pay for the toilet-paper the illegals wipe their ass with.

The illegals aren’t the problem, Americans are letting them in there. Look up what one of China’s border installations look like, it’s a FORTRESS out of a James Bond game.

Russia’s border doesn’t play either so why is America expected to be the fool?

Blatant sabotage. It’s all connected. Biden himself in ‘07 said a great nation can’t have weak borders (paraphrasing), now he’s changed his tune when what he said was 100% true.

Birthrates resulting from the disconnect, the disconnect resulting from propaganda, the fetish being the manifestation of the culture’s declining climate & hostility toward men and boys & trivialization of women & girls, dehumanizing humanity; As well as a symptom that the propaganda is working way better than intended.

OR? the scary part? It was calculated. (doubt it tho)

PROPAGANDA is power!!! Control how people perceive reality & themselves, you control the direction of that society.

Stepping on cities doesn’t compare to making a NATION eat itself over 50 years or less, it’s not even close. The slow knife cuts deepest, always have.

(Notice how i’ve belabored & repeated some points throughout, that’s a methodology of propaganda, bombard you with the same narrative so that the narrative sticks, I did that on purpose just so you get a sample of how this machine is operated. Repeat exposure is form of conditioning, hence fetishism, repeat exposure. Repeat the same message. Repeat the same message.)

And because it’s working, Americans are likely past the point of recovery, social media is a powerful tool as well as an effective distraction.

If it took this long to decline, imagine how long it will take to repair the damage, and Americas will never be allowed to fix anything, not before another tragedy conveniently strikes or another reason to fight each other conveniently arises, more distraction.

The problem starts where the solution does, in the home, in your culture. In your mind.

America needs more people, but the world is rotting, the times are going in a direction not suitable for children, or even if having/affording children is smart. You have a newborn that needs formula, you can’t afford insurance but your taxes are feeding an illegal’s kids.

Who in their right mind would reward a society with another mind to corrupt, another slave to bleed dry and it won’t even help you raise the child before trying to feed other people kids- who trespassed to begin with and our own homeless are being exiled from cities like the trash you walk on?! *ERROR404*

But we have 50MIL+ for trespassers.

It’s lose- lose for the modern Americano.

And don’t think Trump is the answer- while it is convenient that his trial happened just at the right time for this election to pop off (ideal distraction from something else going on in the world) these people will fight & debate on TV then have orgies on islands while you’re arguing with people you don’t know online because you think your political tribe is the answer to the world’s problems. When it’s all just manufactured chaos.

Make promises about things you can see, like “build the wall”, but bringing the country together? Bringing men and women together? Better healthcare WITHOUT subtext loopholes to fund backdoor deals in other countries?

These antagonist corporations causing this disconnect in advertisements & movies, will they be falling in line to help your people?

Do the bloodlines that OWN these corporate giants give a crap?

If that isn’t the argument in the Presidential debate, you’re voting for an agent. (And I keep saying “Agent”, because I repeat: WATCH THE MATRIX again. Hiding in plain sight baby, in plain sight.)

They do not care, they’re reading scripts, on orders. They promise you policy, when what will save you is unity in the culture. Literally just people getting along.

Help the culture maturing, growing up (pun intended, headass) , it will never happen.

Why would Americans want that, why would Americans ever want the only real progress that will save their country? Unity. Cooperation. Coexistence.

Apparently everything’s going great in America, why would people want actual progress that would fix everything, why would you ever want an actual solution when you can keep being promised one by people who don’t live in your community and own Islands to hand down to their great great-grands and yours live off of tips.

But you have 50 million+ big ones to spare for illegals? Hm, you cats got yourselves a paradise eh? Ready to fight everyone’s wars & fix everyone’s problems but your own.

Let them all in to keep families together, and drive your own people apart through movies, ads, games, articles, etc..

Your Gov. (and the powers above them) are giving Palpatine a run for his money when it comes to this Chess game play, my lord.

Ya’ll have been getting played, and played hard.

That’s the only “Domination” happening here, the powers playing on the uninitiated, broken, lonely & longing and above all: distracted.

Subliminally training so many to submit, hunt for likes from the collective, obey TOS or be erased (prototype martial law), and ironically want subjugation ie. train people to want what’s coming anyway.

All “they” (the token “they”) prevailing party- had to do was slap a woman on it. Genius. And the resulting atmosphere is hurting men and women, genius.

Life was not meant or designed to be like this. This is why there are problems.

Reverend Mother from DUNE PART TWO said it best:

“-there are no sides.“

#youtube #illegal immigration #wake up #government #corrupt #women #men #society failed you #women are not the enemy #men are not the problem #rant #lessermook #nature vs nurture

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cavegirlpoems · 5 days

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Violet Core Approaches

So. My close friend and collaborator Sarah Carapace has been working on Violet Core - a ttrpg about dykey mecha pilots in space - for the past few years, and that work is approaching its fruition. It's about to get kickstarted pretty soon, and I got a preview copy of the game ahead of that. So, preview/review I shall.

Disclaimers: I'm close friends with Sarah, was involved in some of the early playtests, and might end up doing a stretch goal for the game. So, I am of course wildly biased in Sarah's favour. Still, even if I wasn't, I figure this'd be my jam.

TL,DR: This game is really really good, back the kickstarter. For more details, read on.

The Basics:

Violet Core is set in the Nemesis System, an alternate scifi version of the solar system. The game follows the lives of spacers cut off from their home planet, Cerulea, as they face an oncoming disaster as escalating waves of comet-storms hit the system and everything starts to come apart.

Our characters are mech pilots for one of three factions of spacers - The Reach, The Homebound, and The Cosmic Embrace - each with their own perspective on what to do about the looming disaster. It's generally agreed that they need to escape, but where to and how is a source of conflict.

All three factions and their approaches have their merits. Although the Reach are positioned as more heirarchical and organised than the other two, all three are clearly scrappy tenacious punk-ish survivors who've been rejected and exiled to space by the dickhead bourgoisie of their home planet, Cerulea.

Luckily, you get to pilot X-10s, giant personalised mechs powered by a mysterious psycho-active (psychic?) crysteline core. This lets you get up to all the various activities you just pictured when I said that.

Tonally, it's Sarah Carapace through-and-through. Everything is purple and blocky, with CRT monitors and snaking cables and spray-paint. Riot Grrl mashed up with retro scifi mashed up with cosmic weirdness.

On The Humble D4

The game uses the oddity of dice - the humble D4 - as its main dice, with D8s scattered in here and there. It's a choice I really like, giving the game a feel that's a little angular and off-centre. It's a simple choice, but it does a lot to set it apart. I can't sum this up better than Sarah does, so I'll just quote her:

d4s are the most cursed of all dice.

They are awkward to roll.

They are pointy and can/will stab you.

Femininity is pointy, painful and powerful and so are these odd little polyhedrons.

Also, There is no standardised style for d4s. When you roll them, the result is the number displayed upright, either on the top or bottom. It varies from die to die.

Which I think gives you a good sense of the tone of the whole game, y'know?

The game cares about dice as physical objects deeply. Players can use the emotional connections between their characters to donate bonus dice to another character's rolls: the game suggests that when you do, you should pass her your physical dice, and use the motion of how you do it (including potentially how your hand touches hers as you hand them over) as a way of expressing the connections between characters, which is a fucking genius bit of design.

Anyway. Who do you play as?

Some sort of dykey space-gal x-10 pilot. To define who you are, you pick three things: the faction you belong to, your pilot type, and the X-10 you pilot. I'll go over each in quick succession.

Your faction determines your political alliance and likely goals, and the culture you grew up in, and each faction has access to a different set of X-10s. You pick between:

The Reach: the most organised and strict faction, and the oldest. Strict, heirarchical, and high-tech. You play here if you want to have a good The Man to chafe against, or to be that The Man for somebody else. The Reach are working on engineering humanity to be able to survive the coming disaster and thrive in space, and building a vast engine - the Overlock - to enable this.

The Homebound: the most rough-and-ready faction. A large population of working-class gals, and with too few resources to go around. They're working on repairing a giant machine, The Sling, to transport their people to another star system and flee the coming disaster. Unfortunately, The Sling and The Overlock are both adaptations of the same machine...

The Cosmic Embrace: the weirdo faction. The smallest, most mystic, and overall hippy-est. Short on space, people, and resources, but not on idealism and enthusiasm. They're poking the weird shit of the setting, and getting results. A little culty. In the playtest I was in, I played Cosmic Embrace, obviously.

Notably, you can have PCs all be in the same faction, or be split between them. If split, there's lines of conflict, but also room for alliances and subterfuge. PCs can, and might well, switch faction in play.

As well as your faction, you pick your pilot type. There's three broad types of pilots you can be:

Genebuilt, artificially created super-pilots with custom genetics to make them good in space. Divided into two rough types; the Violet Kind (for if you were a successful project, and inhereted mysterious abilities) or the Rat Bitch (for if you... weren't, and mostly just inhereted emotional issues). There's some interesting space to play with the idea of nature vs nurture here, or with the pressure of expectation.

Baseliners, aka normal humans who haven't been genetically engineered or tinkered with. Again, divided into two types; the Shining Star (for if you're keeping up with the best through sheer talent and training) and the Baseline Breaker (for if you're a normal person getting by with determination and adaptability.

And then, lastly, the Returned. People who died - or nearly died - and were brought back. The character creation section only mentions one sort of Rebuilt - the Returned, who have been remade by the power of humans science - but hints that other sorts might exist. And indeed they do, tied to the mysteries of the setting.

I ended up playing a Rat Bitch, who'd seen her best buddy get horribly fucked up in a training exercise and gone awol. It was great fun.

Lastly, your X-10. Each faction has three models of X-10, divided by function: Warriors to be brutal front-line fighters, Rogues to be mobile scout-types, and Witches that do weird shit and fight at range. Out of these, each faction has its own version of each of these archetypes. Some X-10 models are pretty common and mass-produced (like the Ogress, the Reach's warrior-frame), and some are rare or even unique (like the Hag, the homebound's rare and experimental Witch type that can fuck with time and space).

Each X-10 has its own Violet Core, the psychoactive crystal that's at the heart of the mech and gives the game it's name. Thoughts from the violet core filter through to the pilot, and visa versa. If you pilot a Hag for long, you'll start thinking Haggish thoughts, and your own emotions will start to seep into the core. It can get real strange real fast.

Each type of X-10 feels and plays extremely differently, in a way I personally found made your choice of frame a reflection of your pilot's personality. My pilot ended up in a Mermaid - the Cosmic Embrace's version of a Witch frame - that had the ability to shift space around it (her?), and 'swim' out of the normal world into sub-space. Which brings me to...

The Spaces & The Mysteries

As well as the material, mundane world - what Violet Core terms 'top-space' - there are two other spaces that exist.

Sub-space is a serene, empty (is it?) realm that lies below top-space. You can dive into sub-space in the right X-10s, and explore. Time and space are wierd and fluid here. If you dive deeply, you find... things. If you dive too deep, you might not come back the same, or at all. There are mysteries down there. Remember I mentioned there are other types of Returned you might become? Yeah. Remember those Violet Cores that power your X-10s? They're made from something called 'the fingers' found deep down in sub-space. Who's fingers? You see where I'm going with this.

There's also The Violet Realm. This is the psycho-sphere, the realm of dreams and emotions and mystical experiences. The violet core of your X-10 links you to the Violet Realm. You can meditate to experience it, to commune with what's within...

This is a setting with mysteries. There are things to explore, forces and powers beneath the surface. I won't elaborate. Partly because I don't want to spoil the discovery for you, and partly because I don't want to read it all and spoil myself before I can play this again. What I will say is that the bits I did read ahead on give you a lot to explore, and are explained in a way that make how they tie into the wider setting and plot. It's all coming together into something impressive.

Personally, as a player of rpgs (larp and ttrpg) I really enjoy settings which present you with mysteries and mysticism, which let you explore the underlying nature of this universe in ways that are at times rational and at times intuitive or mystical. It's an itch few other ttrpgs have scratched for me. Lacuna and Orpheus were, until now, games that achieved what I wanted; now I get to add a third game to the list in Violet Core.

In case it wasn't clear, this is high praise. This is extremely high praise.

Mechanics

I'm going to assume you're already sold. If you aren't, let me make a statement:

I'm mad I didn't think of these game mechanics.

The core engine is pools of d4s, in a way I believe is drawn from forged in the dark. However, unlike FitD, I really like how VC handles its rolls. Particularly - as I mentioned above - the way players can pull on the connections between PCs to offer each other dice, and the way this affects the game.

The core is pretty simple but has nuance. There are PbtA-style moves - things like Negotiate, or Hurt, or Shield - that trigger when you do a particular thing. You roll, and get a codified result based on the result. When you roll, you get a number of dice depending on how you're going about it. In person, you use your talents; things like Making Out and Using Your Head. In your X-10, you use the X-10's talents, things like Synchronising and Drawing Near. An example: You're piloting a Mermaid, and you see your friend (piloting an Ogress) is about to be struck by spiraling comet shards. To save her, you dive across to pull her out of top-space and into sub-space with you, dipping out of the material world to avoid the hazard. Since pulling somebody into Sub-space with your X-10 is Draw Near, you roll as many d4s as your Draw Near pool, and count how many hits you get. Since you're trying to protect somebody, you take that result and look at the Shield move to see what happens.

It's a simple core that's then built on with more detail, giving it a lot of room for nuance and expression.

Further, there's a neat little system for tracking the emotional connections between PCs and how they escalate over time. As they escalate, you pick statements to describe how you feel, pinning down the nature of the relationship, that will get deeper and more intense the further in you get. And the further in you get, the more potent it is when you hand another player your dice to assist her PC.

In play its such a neat, deep, evocative system that it made me really mad I didn't think of it myself. It's basically perfect.

Sorties, in which our cosmic purple space robots punch each other

Up front. Although your in giant space-mechs with giant space-weapons, combat isn't meant to be lethal and horrid. It's intense, and gritty, and emotional raw, but in the way that a bloody-knuckled fist-fight is, not in the way that a shootout is.

Fights aren't war. They're personal.

There's a lot of dancing metaphors in how the fights are described. You might be sparring or actually seriously going after each other, but either way, a fight is an interplay between two characters at their most intense. That thing where a fight scene serves the same purpose as a musical number? Yeah, that.

So. Each fight between X-10s is a Sortie. A sortie is divided into a series of steps, and at each step you pick an option for how you're fighting;

Lead, to be agressive

Sway, to be fluid and fucky

Follow, to be evasive

Sway hits follow, Follow hits lead, Lead hits sway. Its a rock-paper-scissors cycle. (If you get two Leads, both hit, and if you get two follows or sways, both miss.)

When you hit, you can trigger one of the moves as a result. It can get ugly and painful. It could concievably get vulnerable and emotional.

Critically, you have a limited pool of lead/sway/follow actions (depending on your X-10), that get used up as you use them in steps. IE: if you're piloting a Witch, you can use Sway twice and Lead & Follow once. So, you can count what you're opponent's used up, and predict their moves based on what they've got left. In really long sorties, once you've only got one option left to you, it resets.

A sortie is a sort of dance as you maneuver for the advantageous position, use that to fuck with your oponent, and get your fists bruised.

Damage to your X-10 can bleed through to you. Contact between two X-10s can bleed through to their pilots. Things can get strange, particularly when there's Witch X-10s involved.

I'm gonna quote the book again here:

Not all pilots fight to win. Some pilots fight to hurt.

The Gay Bits

As you might have realised by now, it's a really fucking sapphic game. Not as a focus, but in the way where all our PCs are assumed to be some sort of dykey queer type because that's just the kinda tone we're going for.

To misquote Sarah's fellow aussie: "This is my book motherfucker, they'll walk be lesbians if I tell them to".

Pulling It All Together

Tonally, it's a fucking slam dunk. The world bleeds with a very specific atmosphere, a sort of dykey grungey weirdness that draws on old late-80s to early-90s mecha anime, and Heaven Will Be Mine, and weird scifi.

The writing has a really strong voice. Sarah doesn't write like a typical clinical dispassionate ttrpg text, she writes like Sarah. There's little witicisms, emotional bits, slang. It reads like somebody passionately explaining how to play in person.

There's a lot of snippets of in-character text - chat logs, reports, records, recordings - that give you a sense of the sort of people in this world.

The art is all fucking gorgeous. Mostly Sarah art, with some guest spots.

It is extremely purple, so purple its even in the name.

In conclusion:

Listen I am wildly biased because I've been friends with Sarah for yonks, but even if I wasn't I'd be incredibly enthusiastic about this game because:

a) it seems to have been carefully fine-tuned to hit my tastes.

b) it's really fucking good. Really fucking good.

It's an idiosyncratic personal work that also has a huge cosmic scope to it. It fucks around with the medium of dice-based ttrpgs in interesting ways. It's gorgeously written. It's got a setting that makes me want to dive in and explore it.

You should go back the kickstarter when it goes live, and tell your friends about it, and I am not kidding. If this game isn't a wild success there is something wrong with indie ttrpgs. The kickstarter is here, I believe it's due to go live in a couple of days.

If any bloggers are interested in getting a preview copy of their own, hit me up and I can hit up Sarah and we can sort things out.

#ttrpg #rpgs #rpg review #rpg kickstarter #queer ttrpg #mecha ttrpg #scifi ttrpg #dyke stuff #my friend is incredibly talented and you should give her money

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renthony · 8 months

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I hate US election season. I hate US election season so much. Both options are bad, both political parties are bad, and it's nothing but a giant hostage situation with an end goal of deciding who's going to kill the fewest people at the slowest pace. Yeah, "less death" is the better option, but it's not exactly a good option when a lot of people are still gonna fucking die. "No death" isn't even on the goddamn table, and we're supposed to just...roll with that.

And then you get screamed at if you ever say, "both candidates suck. This sucks. This shouldn't be our only option."

I'd be less frustrated by "you HAVE to VOTE BLUE!" crowd if it was accompanied by people willing to admit that, "yes, Biden is horrible. He is enabling genocide. He is a bad, bad man." The office of the US president is inherently drenched in blood, and I respect you infinitely more if you can bring yourself to be honest and say, "Biden is a monster, and I still think you should vote for him" than if your sales pitch stops at, "if you don't vote Biden, the evil orange man wins!"

[Image description: A screenshot from Futurama, showing Fry wrestling a hammer away from Frida Waterfall, who is holding an illegible protest sign. Text on the screenshot reads, "Stop making your point so ineffectively!!" in all caps. End ID.]

I met you "vote blue no matter who" people halfway. I voted Biden in the last election, I "did my part," I participated in the election circus. So can you meet me halfway and do things other than just vote? Can you join the IWW and start coming to meetings, and keep up the work after the election? Can you please try to break out of the "voting every four years is all we can do" mindset?

Please?

#original post

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edmundo-noches-buckley · 5 months

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Does anyone have that friend that is their writing buddy and they know which WIP you are talking about when you say crazy shit like "the giant crossover" or "the Firefly sinkhole one" or "the ruinous Catholic guilt one"?

It's all well and good until they enable you.

And then you come up with ideas and they are like the demon whispering in your ear to do it, to write it, here's a scenario, go on, what's the worst that can happen?

Or is that just me?

#WIPs #best kind of friend tbh #i love them #jes i am talking directly to you #writing #fanfic

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diejager · 2 months

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Hello, can I request a Monster!141 with a hybrid centipede!reader? I wanted to send you a request a long time ago, but I'm a person who easily forgets ideas. You may not write about it if you are uncomfortable.

Cw: monster cod, a lot (and I mean a fuck ton) of insects, pranks, infiltration and spying used for pranks, tell me if I missed any. Note: you have enabled me to use my love of arthropods to the fullest, thank you :D

Gaz had grown used to the occasional, but many, centipedes he’d see crawling up the wall or scurry under the closest furniture. The amount of insect - he knew it wasn’t the right term, you’d remind him that not every crawling arthropods were insects, but he couldn’t, for the love of God, remember the exact word you used - he’s seen over the few months was eerie, something drastically odd for a base kept so clean and the occasional exterminator coming by to try and rid them of this infestation. Though a common sight, he simply couldn’t get comfortable with the tenseness of his back and the invisible itch on his limbs whenever he thought of a centipede.

He assumed it was a normal reaction, Soap had felt it, and so had Horangi and Alejandro, the crawling sensation on the back of their necks or the spasm of their finger. Much unlike the others who didn’t seem bothered by it, easily brushing aside any hint that they faced a centipede infestation, unmoved when one would crawl right by their faces. Perhaps he was only paranoid or over thinking it, all his thoughts crying out how unnatural this was despite how normal they looked: a dark brown body of segments that gleamed under any light and sharp, fiery orange legs, moving in rhythm with the taping antennae.

It was always the same exact centipede —or it seemed so, the same shape, the same size, the same intimidating appearance. He couldn’t figure out the species without catching one, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it alone in case anything went wrong and it spooked him. So, he’d forced others to help him, having a squeamish Soap and a relaxed Rudy scout the open areas of the base with a transparent cup in hand.

And when they did find one, Gaz was quick to slap the cup over one before it could scurry off - knowing how fast one can run - watching it’s legs carry it over the top of the cup, run circled and seemingly panic. Gaz almost felt bad for it while he waited for Rudy and Soap look up the species, the quiet tapping of its antennae against the plastic cup and snapping jaws (“Forcipules,“ Rudy had corrected him with a sly smile.). He wonder-

Crkk crkk

Gaz jolted towards the sound, eyes wide at the hundreds of centipedes gathering around them. An ocean of dark mass and cluttering that made Soap shudder and him step back from the one they kept imprisoned. He was amazed at the gathering, clustered around the cup to push it up and free their missing brother.

“Steamin’ Jesus!” Soap was quick to back as far away as he could from the swarm.

Even Gaz was a bit panicked by how many there were, an innumerable amount of insect that not even an exterminator could possibly kill.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Rudy laughed at something. Someone? It didn’t make sense, he wasn’t looking at Gazor Soap with those words, but the… the centipede?

He watched in horror and awe at the slowly forming shape, giants arthropods grouping up and climbing over each other until it finally took shape. You. You were the centipedes?!

“Of course, Rudy,” you chuckled smugly, eyeing both him and Soap from your spot beside Rudy, “And I’ve learned somuch.”

You learned so much… Gaz dreaded to know what you heard from any, if not all, of them.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #monster 141 #monster cod au #monster 141 au #centipede hybrid!reader #pranks #gaz mw2 #gaz x reader #soap mw2 #soap x reader #rudy x reader #rudy parra

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terry-perry · 2 months

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Yay!!! I’m so happy you’re taking requests for this couple!! They seem so sweet (until things got out of hand 😅)

Alastor is the intimidating, scarier half. so what if a group or a person sees them being adorable and soft and laugh at them. Until Alastor sneakily scares them off before going back to being sweet with Y/N?

thanks 😊

You walked alongside Alastor after "running into" each other at a nearby bookshop. He startled you there when you pulled a book off a shelf and found his giant sharp-tooth grin on the other side staring right at you.

"Forgive me, dearest, but you looked so cute when spooked," he recalled the moment with you while on a stroll downtown to get some coffee.

You could only roll your eyes and smile. You had such an urge to playfully swat at him and then grab his hand, but you had to restrain yourself. You two weren't out in the open yet and wanted to keep the relationship in a sweet, intimate bubble you built for yourselves for as long as possible. Everything seemed so much brighter since you started this, especially in such a shitty place like Hell. You wanted to relish having someone make you feel special without worrying about drama like parental involvement or toxic gossip.

"Oh shit! They're together again!" You heard a sniggering voice mutter as you kept walking with Alastor. "Do you think something's going on with them?"

That almost made you stop in your tracks. The bubble was at risk of popping if that remark meant what you fearfully thought it did.

You kept yourself from turning to face and confronting who said this, thinking it would just enable them. It wasn't until you noticed Alastor was no longer by your side that you stopped and spun around, finding him in front of two sinners you suspected were the source of the comment. Their smug faces transformed into pale ones full of sheer terror as you heard Alastor mumbling what was no doubt a threat to their souls.

When you approached them, the gossipers were nodding feverishly, looking like they might shit their pants any second. You could sense the malevolent aura surrounding Alastor, even hearing it somewhat through the distorted jazz playing on his microphone. It was gone the moment you were next to him and he was back to his gentlemanly demeanor.

"Ah! Sorry, my dear!" He greeted you with that boisterous charm of his. "I was just acquainting myself with a couple of curious souls who wondered what business we had to tend to. Overlords like us are always willing to give attention to those needing a listening ear." He turned back to the sinners who kept their scared expressions intact, especially since Alastor hardened his stare but kept his overly friendly smile. "Please, let us know what we can do to help you."

"Nah, forget it!" One of the sinners said before scurrying off in the opposite direction, their companion not far behind.

"Well, now that that's sorted, coffee?"

"What am I going to do with you?" You scoffed as you resumed your walk.

"I'm curious about that myself," Alastor teased, a light smirk on his face now as he took your hand and gave you some playfully pleading eyes. "All I ask is that you be gentle with me, darling."

You giggled at his antics but then got rather flustered when you two continued your stroll and he left his pinky curled around yours.

You suppose you've earned this public display of affection, subtle as it was.

#alastor x reader #alastor imagine #alastor #x reader #carmine!reader #au #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #alastor x oc #oneshot #drabble #request #imagine #hazbin #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x y/n

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neoplatinum · 7 months

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VTMNTSCOAT - destroy lonely | ning 'ningning' yizhou

summary: ning's not herself; hasn't been for a long time. you're left wondering where she really has gone.

pairing: gf!ningning x gf!reader

themes: drug abuse, alcohol, cigarettes, lots and lots of swearing, angst, arguing, ning is very unstable, kinda toxic relationship, rest of aespa!

wc: 2.2k

link to pt2: keep it up - chase atlantic

she's irritated, and you're irritated by her being irritated. her eyes are already glazed over from all the cocaine lines she snorted with your rolled-up benjamin. needless to say, it won't take long before a fight breaks out in this club if she doesn't sit down soon.

a giant swarm of bodies is how you describe kwangya avenue tonight, bright LEDs shining overhead, and a cacophony of voices all drumming into your ear. it's all a bit much for you, but you weather through it rather than to see yizhou upset at you.

she's landed herself into one of the vips booths, the wrong vip booth it seems. since you don't recognize a single face there. the women are watching in disdain as yizhou collects herself while you try to move her out of the way. the men are trying to get a better view of her face (and her body). you sneer at them and grab her arm to hold her back up.

she's a devastating beauty with her leather jacket and wispy long jet black hair. she's weaving through the crowd as if trying to swim through water, stumbling and holding onto walls. you finally managed to see the booth of people at aeri's party.

"fuck me." you groan to yourself when you see the many lines of cocaine and girls swapping acid tabs with each other. it's a recipe for disaster, and with how yizhou has been pre-gaming, the last thing she needs is more fuel for the fire that is her muddled brain.

"gigi! my baby!" yizhou shouts as she damn near throws herself over aeri when she sees her.

you try and sit far away from the unknown girls who are making out with each other while being egged on by some weird dudes. the last thing you need is attention. you just hope this night ends quickly enough for you to enjoy your show wrapped up in your warm bed.

"hi sweetheart, missed me?" aeri speaks gently to yizhou, she smooths out yizhou's wild hair. aeri is nice. you've met her a couple times. she's calmer than yizhou, that's for sure. but she's often an enabler, she is just better at self-control than yizhou. there's been more than a few occasions that yizhou has went over to aeri's and come back on another universe, with aeri telling you that she needs to settle.

you can see the care that aeri has for yizhou, like her little sister, that she finds out of control. you're grateful that aeri is able to bring yizhou back to reality whenever she spirals.

aeri finally spots you with a tired yizhou lying on her chest, "hi, she doing okay?" she points at yizhou in her arms. you nod and get closer to aeri.

"yeah, got high off lines early; you know how she likes to pregame." you explain and yizhou is laughing with her eyes closed and rubbing aeri's back languidly.

she laughs at the fact, "yeah that's ning for sure." aeri passes yizhou back to you, and in an instant you're back to worrying about just fucked up she is right now. aeri is off being a good host, talking to other people while you have a high yizhou tucked into your neck like a koala bear.

you check her eyes, they're blown for sure. it's still safe but definitely a little worrisome. you continue to sigh as she grumbles about you messing with her eyes. you start explaining why, but she's already tuned you out. grabbing a cup of whiskey off the table and downing it before the owner can see it.

minjeong and jimin show up after a couple minutes, both enthusiastically wishing aeri a happy birthday and upon seeing yizhou's state, they come over to talk to her. yizhou seems a little more coherent, joyfully speaking about how happy she is that it's aeri's birthday and that she wishes nothing but the best.

minjeong is happily chatting it up with yizhou and being an active listener, but jimin's worried. she shoots you glances and whispers questions about yizhou's well-being. you give her the same spiel you gave aeri earlier. jimin is nice enough to bring over glasses of water to help sober up yizhou, even if it'll only do a little.

aeri returns with a bright smile after greeting her other guests, and seeing how yizhou is so happy, she pulls yizhou to the dance floor.

"omg, yay! let's all dance!" yizhou exclaims happily she tugs both minjeong and jimin's hands and pulls them to the dancefloor. you sigh when you notice you've been left behind. aeri waits for you, though, "are you okay?"

"no, give me a minute." you rub at your temples and set off for the bar, needing a drink to get the nerves out of your body, so you order just a water cup and try to calm yourself down.

feeling the anxiety of being yizhou's caretaker when she's beyond comprehension is taking a toll on you. it doesn't help that it seems to be a recurring event.

you turn around and get ready to face the dance floor when you notice your girl dancing on some guy. the rage flares up in your body, and you practically run towards the dancefloor where yizhou is happily dancing.

"ning, what the actual fuck!" you grab her off of the random dude, to which he drunkenly walks away. yizhou is still confused with what's going on until her eyes refocus on you.

"what?" she questions as she grabs onto your jacket.

"you were dancing up on some guy!" you're angry and hurt, feeling the anger bubbling up from your gut. minjeong and jimin both eye you two warily. the people around you are moving further away.

"no, i wasn't, i was dancing up on you!" she laughs at you and tries pulling you closer to her.

"you weren't! you were too high out of your fucking mind to realize that dude wasn't even me!" you shout, and by now, yizhou is sobering up a bit. eyes still unfocused, but she's trying to recenter herself.

"no, i'm not!" she shouts and gets away from you, feeling insecure. she's rubbing her arms up and down her jacket and watching everyone's eyes on her. she turns back and pushes you.

"stop it!, i didn't do anything wrong!" she shouts, and by now, more people are gathering, watching you two quarrel.

"anything wrong? ning! you're so beyond here that you can't even differentiate between me and some random dude, of course there's something wrong!" jimin is pulling at your arms and minjeong is trying to console a very upset yizhou.

"calm down. it's okay, you know she doesn't know what's going on." jimin tries getting you to take deep breaths. you nod your head, but the hurt is still spreading deep within your chest.

"you are the one that has a problem with me, my own girlfriend, and it is so damn suffocating to be around you!" yizhou shouts and runs off the dancefloor to what is presumably the women's bathroom. hot tears running down her face as she curses you.

now you're aggravated, and people are awed at the spectacle before them. aeri's busy trying to diffuse the situation and asking the dj to turn up the music louder so everyone will go back to dancing. and it mostly works, you calm your breathing a bit, both minjeong and jimin guiding you through your breathing.

"fuck jimin, i don't know what to do with her." you let out a strangled cry at the frustration, trying so hard to hold yourself together tonight, only to find yourself crying not even halfway through the event.

"listen, i know you're upset right now, but you really should go talk to her; you know how inconsolable she gets when she's high and sad." jimin pats your back, and with a sad heart you walk towards the women's bathroom.

you aren't ready to deal with whatever yizhou throws at you.

"excuse me, excuse me." you weave past the line of women outside the bathrooms and finally find the stall that yizhou has put herself in. she's crying into her hands and rocking herself back and forth.

you crouch down and try and tap her knees, she looks up and scowls at you. already reaching for a cigarette in her pocket. you try to take it away from her but she's being fussy about it. yanking it back and grabbing on to her lips.

she waits until you grab the lighter from your back pocket, smiling at you when you help her light up the cigarette and hold it to her mouth. she inhales deeply before leaning back against the bathroom wall.

"ning baby, let's talk outside." you try to gently pull her up.

she seems out of it, dried teary mascara all over her cheeks and smudged makeup on her hands. she stares at you before grabbing you by the collar and smashing her lips against yours.

you mold your lips against hers and forget just how fucked up this all is. how yizhou never wants to talk to you unless she's on something, how it's always her way or the highway. even now, you know this is fueled by the mix of everything that's in her system. so you cry quietly against her lips. grabbing the back of her head to pull her closer.

you miss when yizhou's eyes would light up when they saw you; now you think in her eyes all she sees is just a blob of a figure. her affection runs hot and cold, just like her temper. and you hang onto this moment, wishing she always wants to kiss you, even if she needs something in her system to do so.

upon feeling the wet tears on her cheeks, she pulls back and stares at you. really takes a look at the person she calls her girlfriend, and she hugs you tightly. sobbing into your arms, and you finally are able to hold her to walk out of the dirty club bathroom. she's crying, you're crying; you can't even tell why you're crying anymore. for yourself or for her, you really don't know.

"i'm sorry for treating you like shit." she mumbles into your chest, but you can hear it no matter how quiet she is. "i just don't feel like myself anymore. whenever I'm sober, it's like...I'm just always sad." she continues when you open the backdoor of the club, walking out in the cool air and away from everyone.

"ning baby, you need to lay off the drugs; it's what's fucking up your mood. you're so dependent on it, it's fucking with how you're actually supposed to feel." she cries harder into you, and you set her down; she immediately crouches into herself and sobs. you just sit with her, taking the cigarette from her and taking a few long draws.

"i hate myself for how i treat you." she cries out. the guilty part of yizhou is resurfacing, the intense guilt for how she can't break out of this cycle, needing lines of cocaine to even attend her best friend's party. she's crying less, but now she has the hiccups, and you would tell her it's cute if not for the heavy mood currently.

"you can still get better ning, nothing is stopping you."

"i'm scared that if i do quit the drugs, that i won't be able to love you anymore." she explains and finally it all clicks, how dependent she is on the drugs to uplift her own mood and make you happy. she's so lost in her wallowing that you're also crying. you look at her and see someone crying out for help.

"i don't think that's possible. i think it would make you able to love a lot better. you can feel the full extent of your emotions when you're sober. these are all just quick and cheap thrills to fake happiness." you explain, and she nods, still clutching onto herself for stability.

you reach into your pocket and bring out some napkins, and start wiping down her face, removing the smudged eyeliner and makeup as best as you can, she closes her eyes and just lets you.

it feels like home again, when you used to help her remove her makeup whenever she felt too tired from a long day out.

behind these tired and dull eyes is still your girlfriend; her warmth and love for you are still there, and at least you would like to believe so. you also wipe down her hands and rub them to stop them from shaking.

"ning, let's go home, okay? tonight's been a lot. i'll text aeri about it."

she nods, and you hold her hand and walk to your bike parked next to the club. grabbing the helmet and kissing her forehead before placing it on and clipping it to her head. you turn around and get ready to speed off in the night, with yizhou's arms wrapped tightly around your torso. you send aeri a quick text that you and ning are leaving early, receiving a thumbs up emoji and you look back at yizhou.

"we'll be okay." you say to yourself and take off.

a/n: ning is such an opium girlie (giselle too), and you know it. sorry for such an angsty one, was really feeling it with this ningning pic. stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

#ningning x reader #aespa ningning #ning yizhou #kim minjeong #yoo jimin #aeri uchinaga #aespa x reader #aespa x you #aespa #neoplatinum

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waywardsummoner46 · 7 months

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‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Sink Into the Darkness, My Light | One | ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

"Join us, my Light."

Two centuries ago, the ruler of the Light disappeared, plunging the universe into chaos and disrupting the sacred, unspoken balance of the universe.

The eight rulers of the Darkness never stopped looking for her; their obsession never once waning since she vanished.

Recently, they've sensed something. Never around long enough to pinpoint but so euphoric that it sings within their veins. And since meeting you, well... slowly they begin to understand why.

"Sink into the darkness with us."

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

「✦」 PAIRING - yandere ot8!ateez x (?)reader

「✦」 GENRE - ancient gods!au, fantasy!au, magical powers!au

「✦」 WARNINGS - mind control, gaslighting, dom/sub, subspace (of a sort), temporary amnesia, manipulation, YANDERE AND DARK THEMES

「✦」 WORD COUNT - 4,343

「✦」 A/N - Long time no see, huh...

「✦」 TAGLIST - Let me know if you'd like to be added :)

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

• one • two • three • four • five •

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

“Oh, Ji-Ah! You really didn’t have to, you know.”

Holding your phone up to your ear, your eyes twinkled as they beheld the gifts your friend had gotten you.

“Of course I didn’t have to, but it’s your birthday and I… I wanted to.”

She quietened towards the end of her sentence, and your heart clenched at the sincerity of the gifts and her words.

“Ji-Ah…”

Whilst you were at work that day, she must’ve used her spare key to your apartment and placed all of these presents on your living room table. The book you had been raving over for the past few months was sitting in a brand new giant teddy bear’s lap, all decorated and styled with a bow. A now-opened card sat neatly to their side, a picture of you both from a few years ago on its cover and the sweetest message inside.

As much as you appreciated everything and made sure to verbalise that gratitude to her, you both knew that the book was what held your attention the most. You had spent literal months searching for it, ‘The Hidden War Within.’

When you’d first mentioned it to Ji-Ah, she’d laughed and asked if it was some sort of mindfulness, positive psychology type book. You’d dismissed her playfully, stating that she wasn’t necessarily incorrect but ignored the actual content of the book. ‘The Hidden War Within’ is a novel by a collection of authors over the course of centuries; it’s written from the first person perspective and tells the tale of a lady, every time, who aims to nurture the goodness in people and minimise the evil that could fester. The antagonist, a male whose origins vary, actively dismisses her aims, instead wishing to incite sin and discourse within the people of the land. The descriptions of the constant battle between the pure aims of the protagonist and the insidious intentions of the antagonist captivated you in an inexplicable way; the applications this has to the human race as a whole really piqued your interest.

Philosophical topics was something you dabbled in on occasion but the discussion between good and evil being a force out of the individual control of a person and, instead, determined by forces beyond comprehension did cause some discussion between you and Ji-Ah. Mainly, are people born evil or is it an environmental thing?

The fact that it had been written from numerous authors over the span of centuries was another aspect that only deepened your intrigue. How had authors, all from different parts of the globe and periods of time, collectively written something akin to a timeline of a novel? Realistically, the only thing the stories within the novel had in common was that they discussed the same topic in eerily similar detail just with different historical influences, but that only reinforced the entire philosophical debate of are people born evil.

Undeniably, ‘The Hidden War Within’ had wormed its way as a repetitive topic within your friendship and that enabled your obsession with the novel to grow until you were borderline desperate to possess it for yourself.

So, as you held it in your hands, tears of unfiltered happiness streamed down your face silently. “Thank-” “You are very, very welcome,” she cut you off. Then, there was a pause on her line. “To repay me, if you’re feeling oh-so indebted to me, you have to come out with us for a drink tonight.”

You knew that the tender moment wouldn’t last long, not with Ji-Ah’s aversion to lengthy emotional situations.

Still, you sighed.

“Ji-Ah, you know I don’t drink.” You’d had a few in the past, curious to try it out but it never became anything more than just that - a new experience. Alcohol was off-putting to you, it just never tickled your fancy and after seeing what it can lead to… well, fair to say you’d rather stay away from the stuff.

Ji-Ah, bless her, was very accommodating to this particularity of yours and always ensured that you were as comfortable as possible at any social event. Hence why her next words weren’t a surprise, “You don’t have to drink-drink, but I am going to have lots of drink-drinks… if that’s okay with you?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head lightly even though you knew she couldn’t see you. “I trust you, Ji-Ah. I know you’re responsible with it. It’s Jee-Won that I’m dreading, you know how she gets.”

Everyone knew how Jee-Won got after a few drinks, especially at a bar where there were plenty of young, ‘attractive’ men to scope out. Her fascination with picking out another guy at every social event was sad because she could quite easily find someone to truly love her and be loved by her. Alas, you might have to resign yourself to her drunken activities and pray that whoever she invited back to the table tonight would be decent and not equally as unhinged as she could be.

On the other end of the phone call, you could basically hear her thinking of how to convince you to go and as painful as it was to admit to yourself, her persistence was slowly grating at your resilience.

The teddy bear sitting on your living room table was practically begging you with its plastic, unseeing eyes. Ji-Ah had bought you all of those gifts and… it was only one night, wasn’t it? And it was your birthday? Surely, it couldn’t be that bad…

A heavy, resigned sigh escaped your lips and Ji-Ah practically squealed over the phone.

“See you at eight! You will not regret this, (Y/N).”

Somehow, you already did.

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

It was her fault really that you were in this situation, really. She couldn’t possibly have expected anything different, right?

Maybe she did, maybe she expected you to resist, to battle it off as much as you could but her optimism would be her downfall.

The urge was just too mighty, the temptation too unbearable to deny and you, too unfortunately stubborn for your own good.

Looking down at your tote bag, swimming with an array of different chocolates and a multitude of her favourite sweets, you grinned. She’d definitely kill you for buying these for her but words of thanks just weren’t satisfactory enough. Her gifts had quite literally made you cry; you needed to show her, rather than tell her, just how much you cherished her actions.

Deep down, you knew that she knew that. It was also just fun to see the outrage on her face when you presented her with chocolates or some flowers whenever she’d gone out of her way to spoil you.

Deep down, you also knew that she knew that you knew she secretly likes her efforts being appreciated so much and it always makes for a phenomenal movie night whenever you shower her with a myriad of sweet and sugary specials (not that she’d ever admit to that).

There was something missing from your horde of tradeable valuables and that was, in fact, a palette of different coloured flowers. With a subtle mischief to your stride, you made your way to your most trusted, dear florist ‘Life Rose On’.

The name never fails to make you chuckle.

On Jung-Hee owned the beautiful establishment and had been a friend of sorts since you moved to the area five years ago. When moving into your then-new apartment, you decided that the first step to making the space your own was to liven up each room with different colours and types of flowers.

Your idea worked like a charm and really helped to keep you motivated when unpacking. Jung-Hee very kindly took the time out of her day to help you hand select each individual flower (and entertained your ceaseless indecision); from that day, you always made sure to drop by whenever you were in town to say hello and to drop off some soju. The old lady was very open about her love for the stuff, even if you had no interest in it.

If it was for Jung-Hee, there’s not a lot you wouldn’t do. You loved the elderly lady like your own grandmother and would also lend a helping hand should she need it.

She was similar to you in the way that she always repaid you through gifts for your considerate actions - typically a free bouquet of your favourite flowers.

After a nice stroll through town, you reached the florist.

Unsurprisingly, the window display was stuffed to the brim with a myriad of floral beauties that looked like Mother Nature’s mosaic. Jung-Hee seriously knew how to capture an onlooker's attention and, judging from how many people you could see in the shop beyond the glazed window, she’d succeeded immensely.

You crossed the street, navigating the crowd of people on the pavements.

You got so caught up in the masses of people that you failed to notice the raised step at the entrance of ‘Life Rose On’ and, ultimately, began falling to your doom.

Letting out an embarrassing squeak of surprise, you braced yourself for the impact with the floor that… never came.

Peeling your eyes open in mild confusion, you barely suppressed your gasp of shock at the kind eyes of the stranger that had caught you. You both stayed in whatever position he’d caught you in - you were too out of it to process that properly - and took the opportunity to analyse each others’ face.

He had the warmest eyes you’d ever seen, a gorgeous galaxy of chocolatey velvet wrapped up in his irises. His lips, parted ever so slightly and downturned, were rosey red and were porcelain in their appearance, flawless and beautiful. Delicate waves of dark hair lined his forehead and it took all of your energy not to reach up and smooth a stray strand out.

It felt like hours had passed with you looking into his eyes and examining his face. You couldn’t get enough, there was something so captivating about him, something that made you want to know more-

Someone cleared their throat. Both you and the stranger were shocked out of your respective reveries and a light blush dusted your cheeks. The stranger seemed completely composed, in contrast. The person who’d cleared their throat was a customer trying to leave through the doorway but found it difficult with two humanoid obstacles in the way. You were happy to see that the lady wasn’t a regular, so she probably wouldn’t bump into her on another occasion.

Huffing at your distracted apology, the lady moved past you and the stranger and out of the florist. Now that you and the man were both standing by yourself and pointedly not tripping over some violent, unseen step, you struggled to maintain a neutral expression when you saw how tall he was compared to you.

He was easily six foot tall, and using the door as a substitute measuring tape you guessed that he might be slightly taller than that as well. You cursed yourself internally. Of all the people that had to see and catch you, why did it need to be this man?

“I am so sorry, are you alright?” You questioned with an apology written all over your face.

And, oh, if you thought his face was perfect, then his voice was enough to cause you to ascend. “I’m perfectly fine, are you alright?” how were you supposed to keep composed when his voice sounded like that.

Smiling self-deprecatingly, you responded, “I’m perfectly fine. Thank you for that.”

“Don’t worry about it.” And you didn’t, not really. Not when he assured you so confidently that there was absolutely nothing to trouble yourself with. “Tell me your name.”

Instinctually, you went to tell him but something held you back. Possibly the way he’d said it - a demand rather than a question. Possibly something else. Although, It struck you as odd that that was how he’d go about that topic but figuring it was largely irrelevant and most likely you were reading too much into things you gave him your name.

“(Y/N),” he repeated, your name sliding off his tongue so heavenly. “My, how interesting. I used to know someone with the same name.”

Your eyebrows raised in polite surprise. “Oh, really?”

He smiled down at you but there was a pinch of something unpleasant weaved into his expression, “Yes. A very compelling woman, was she.” His sudden emotion made you mildly uncomfortable, feeling as though you’d unintentionally uprooted some harsh forgotten memories.

Before you could say anything, though, the man bowed to you. “Lovely to make your acquaintance, (Y/N). My name is Yunho.”

Yunho.

You finally had a name to match his angelic face. It suited him perfectly.

Smiling, a genuine, light-hearted one this time, you mirrored his bow before you both straightened and simply stood there, on the doorway to the shop, and gazed at each other silently. There was something about this man that made you search his eyes, the very deepest, darkest parts of his pupils to find his soul. You didn’t know what it was, but something inside of you said that Yunho was very unique.

Very unique indeed.

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

Yunho and you had spoken for another twenty minutes before he’d had to leave.

The entire time, you were hanging off of his every word and couldn’t quite escape the magnetism of his irises. There was something so captivating with the way he spoke; the words he chose, the tone in which they were woven but also how calming his deep voice was. And, oh, his eyes.

You couldn’t stop thinking about them.

Glancing at your phone, the time read 13:26. That left you about six and a half hours before you had to be there, five hours before you had to get ready, four hours before you got some food and only two hours and a half before you went home.

Flowers were the last thing on your list, so once you’d picked out a personalised bouquet for Ji-Ah you’d be able to browse whatever other shops tickled your fancy and then go home, to get ready for your “night out”.

The more you thought about it, the more you regretted your decision to go. Realistically, you’d most likely have a phenomenal time if you allowed yourself to indulge in the experience. But sitting on your living room table was the one thing you’d wanted for months; it was finally in your grasp and you couldn’t even read it until tomorrow (because you weren’t stupid, you won’t be leaving the club until two in the morning).

Helplessly, you sighed. There was no way to escape your fate. It was inevitable. At least the flowers were pretty.

‘Life Rose On’ was, for lack of a better word, a labyrinth. The only reason you could get around as quick as you could was because you’d navigated its maze-like twists and turns for five years and, even then, when Jung-Hee decided that the shop was getting “too predictable”, she’d reorganise the entire shop so that any hope of save journey was futile. The woman loved to keep people on their toes, her distaste for monotony something you admired contrary to the perilous jungle that was her shop.

The shop was bigger than it appeared; the bleak outside of the shop didn’t do its magnificent interior any justice. As soon as you entered the florists, an archway made entirely of Japanese Wisteria, Mandevilla and Clematis enveloped you with their sweet smells. Each climbing plant twisting so delicately around the foundations of the archway and certain pieces dangling down in a still, flowery downfall; the occasional petal falling to the ground made walking into the shop feel like you were stepping into another realm with only nature’s best caressing you lightly on their way down to join those who fell before them.

After the winding walkway, there was the option to take a left or a right turn. Both laid out to be the start of a rainbow - the beginning of each row included dark red roses, amaryllis to name a few and continued down the line with plants including sunflowers, bluebells and lavender.

On Jung-Hee loved a spectacle. She was only just getting started.

The overall layout of the shop was circular. So, after making your choice of left or right, you would be brought to a turn that took you further towards the centre of the shop. Instead of beginning from red and going down the rainbow, Jung-Hee intricately places each and every flower on these stands to mirror the symbol of whatever season of the year it was. For example, for Valentine’s day, she had gathered the flowers and created a phenomenal display of plants made to look like a landscape of a couple sitting on a mountain, overlooking the horizon.

What made ‘Life Rose On’ so unique is that Jung-Hee’s life quite literally revolved around the shop and had dedicated her life to making the shop thrive. It was her family heirloom in a way. The building itself had been in her family for generations but she’s been the first to utilise it to its full potential and allow her family home to bloom to its fullest extent.

It was that same ideology that inspired her to make it a florist. Ever the poet, she said that every plant or flower sold was pollen and her customers were the bees, helplessly drawn to its beauty and coming to crave its offerings as sustenance.

“You will always be my favourite bee, my dear,” she always said.

“And you’ll always be my favourite flower,” you’d respond with an unrestrained smile on your face.

After the landscape aisles of the shop, you’d finally reach the centre where the cash register was. Dotted around it, however, were individual stands and displays of flowers that may not have been considered as suitable for the display chosen that month or were simply too big to be practical anywhere more confined.

And sitting at the cash register, looking effortlessly in her element would be Jung-Hee.

Except… she wasn’t there. A young man was sitting there instead, one you’d never heard of before, let alone seen. Jung-Hee had no children nor did she have any nephews of close relations to anyone of his description.

You hadn’t seen his face yet, having turned right after the archway you’d reached the centre from behind the cash register so his back was turned to serve the small line of customers there, but you found it slightly odd that Jung-Hee wasn’t at the register she seemed to be glued to six days a week (it used to be seven but you managed to convince her to take Sunday off to look after herself, rather than others for once).

Biting your lip slightly, you looked down at the collection of blue hyacinths and forget-me-nots you’d collected for Ji-Ah and contemplated coming back at a later date. There was nothing necessarily wrong with having a stranger in Jung-Hee’s place but you had brought along some small things you wanted to give her today and, evidently, you wouldn’t be able to do that. Ji-Ah would still have her flowers and chocolates and whatnot, but at a later date.

Thinking about it, it made more sense to kill two birds with one stone at a later date. You wouldn’t be able to give Ji-Ah the flowers until after they’d died anyway due to your schedules being unaligned after tonight and the florist you were looking for was nowhere to be seen.

Then again…

“Daisies would work wonderfully with those.”

You jolted and looked up to meet the eyes of one of the prettiest, most angelic people you’ve ever seen in your life. Internally, you were mildly shocked at how such a smooth, deep voice could match such an innocent face and yet, somehow the low baritone of his voice was as pleasurable to listen to as his eyes were to gaze into.

The irony of his rosy red lips wasn’t lost on you.

The man had a birthmark on his cheek, strands of parted black hair framed it like the most cherished picture. Because this man was a work of art, and he deserved to be framed for eternity.

Two men. Two heart-wrenchingly handsome men had crossed paths with you in less than twenty minutes. The first one you’d made a fool of yourself to. You’d be damned if you ruined this chance to redeem yourself, even if only to make yourself feel better,

Meeting his eyes, you took a subtle breath to steel your nerves. “Do you think so? I was debating between purple tulips or just buying them as they are, but I see where you’re coming from.”

Alright, a slight ramble perhaps but at least you didn’t stumble over your words (or your feet like with Yunho).

The way his eyes twinkled with sudden interest gave you a bit of confidence. “An interesting choice, but don’t you think the contrast of the daisy’s white petals against the darker purples and blues would only add to the beauty of them all?”

Contemplatively, you looked down at your hands and imagined the picture he’d painted in your hand. It did make sense, actually. As he said, the contrast between dark and light made a very balanced, very alluring image inside your head. “Ah, you know what? You’re right, that would look lovely.”

He leant back (you didn’t register when he’d closed a slight distance between you), and looked proud of himself. Dare you say it, the pleased expression he wore was adorable.

“I’m glad I could help. My name is Yeosang.”

Yeosang.

Just like when you learnt Yunho’s name, something felt so instinctively right about that. Not only did the name suit him perfectly but as though something thrumming underneath your skin calmed after learning his name.

“(Y/N), it’s nice to meet you. Thank you for your help, Yeosang-ssi,” you bow deeply so that he avoids seeing the blush dusted across your cheeks. You don’t know what it was, but there was something going on with you today. First Yunho, now Yeosang. Two complete strangers that had affected you more in two minutes than a lot of people had in two years.

“You’re very welcome, (Y/N).”

Yeosang helped you to find however many daisies you wanted (six) and walked you to the register, all while making small talk. It was only when you saw him stand behind the counter rather than in the queue did you make the connection between the mysterious new worker and this kind stranger.

Lips parting softly, you placed the flowers into his outstretched hand for him to place them into the bouquet wrapping. “How long have you worked here?”

His hands worked the ribbon around the patterned wrapping so expertly that you wondered how much practice he’d had at this. “I’ve been here for about two years this month.”

Two years? Impossible, you would’ve run into him at some point with how frequently you visit the shop. And even if by the very small chance that hadn’t occurred, Jung-Hee would’ve told you of such a development.

“How come Jung-Hee never mentioned you?”

At your question, his hands slowed momentarily but picked up from his slight hesitation as though nothing had happened. “You know Jung-Hee?”

“I’ve known her for nearly five years now. She’s always been wonderful company and an even better friend.”

He hummed thoughtfully, “I find it odd she never mentioned me, I must admit.” Finishing wrapping the flowers up, he made eye contact with you again and the sudden tenseness and mild hostility you found in them caught you off guard. “She and I have a very complicated relationship but one that I cherish, nonetheless.”

You waited for a few seconds for him to elaborate but once he remained silent for the same amount of time, it became clear he wasn’t going to answer further.

A part of you still wanted to know where Jung-Hee was today, and you were about to ask when he reached down to something on the shielded side of the counter, hidden from your view.

Bringing his hand up, you saw that he’d picked a singular purple rose. He twirled it in his hand for a bit, admiring its rare beauty, before making eye contact with you once again. Slowly, as though giving you the opportunity to step back should you wish, he raised the rose to your head and tucked it gently behind your ear.

His hand lingered by your cheek for a second longer than it should’ve, especially considering the short amount of time you’d known him… but, you’d be lying if you said that closeness, even the faintest amount of it, wasn’t the best thing you’d experienced in a long, long time.

Appearing reluctant, he pulled back. “Goodbye, (Y/N). I hope I’ll see you again soon.” His voice was a whisper but carried the weight of a winter wind.

You couldn’t help the blush that spread across your cheeks. If the slight twitching of his lips was anything to go by, he was well aware of the effect he had on you.

You met his eyes, the look he was giving you so tender it made saying this goodbye almost unbearable. “Goodbye, Yeosang.”

After leaving the innermost circle of the shop, you felt like a weight was settling off of your lungs. You didn’t even recognise how difficult it had become to breathe there, nor had you recognize how unexplainably painful it was to depart from Yeosang only after knowing him for fifteen minutes.

A rush of something euphoric had spread through you after he’d given you the flower, and coupled with the barest touch to your cheek your emotions had been sent tumbling. You stepped out of the shop and, for the first time in a long time, felt like there was something more to your life again. As though you’d found your purpose.

Oh, how little you knew.

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

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