#AND lose the convenience of all those places in the strip

[phantomnecromancer]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪Female Geto Suguru⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

2.2k words Content warning 18+, nsfw, smut, masturbation (f + f), oral (f! receiving), fingering (f! receiving) geto in this fic is a woman btw! pt2 soon Synopsis

you. In reality, Geto Suguru saw you as nothing more than a convenient tool, a pawn in her intricate plans to manipulate curses and bend them to her will. While you showered her with gratitude and adoration, she plotted and schemed behind that facade of benevolence, using your devotion to further her own dark ambitions.

Note from the author Oh my god, I'm so sorry for the delay, I completely forgot about this account. I've been really eager to write a fic inspired by a female version of Geto. It seems like there are lots of fanarts but no fics about her female version, so I decided to create my own. Like I said, English isn't my first language, so I apologize if there are any mistakes! I really plan to keep writing for Fem Geto in the future, and I even got inspired to write more about Cult Geto because there don't seem to be many out there. Anyway, enjoy, and see you in part 2!"

―Geto suguru who was banished from jujutsu high

She is the worst curse user ever existed in the ultimate millennium

―The warm lights of the temple flickered to life. It seemed that it hadn't been in place for long; rumors circulated that the owner of the old temple frequently moved their residence. No one knew why they did it or if there was any malice behind his actions. The people didn't seem to care, as long as the burdens on their shoulders, forces they couldn't comprehend, were lifted from them. Those who visited said the owner appeared to be a very sweet person, asking for nothing in return for taking away the heavy sorrows and pain they carried.

The reason for your visit was a last grasp at hope. After consulting doctor after doctor, nothing seemed to alleviate your suffering. Gradually, you began to lose your sanity, reaching a point of no return. You felt watched, attacked, and even saw things that you knew were impossible in the earthly realm. Your pain was so intense that the thought of ending your life started to seem not so terrible.

Then, amidst the small talk of the village elders  you heard about someone who, according to their words, was a god reincarnated on earth. She could lift all burdens, and her noble soul sought nothing in return. You never considered yourself a religious person; you believed it was a complete scam, a mockery of human beings to strip them of their money while maintaining a pure image in the name of a higher power. However, what did you have to lose? Your last will, crying out for a reason to live, a reason to continue existing in this earthly realm. It seemed that the location was uncertain and constantly changing, but it appeared to be on the outskirts of the village, along a road whose name you did not know.

The soles of your shoes echoed with each step as you drew closer. There was no longer any doubt; this was not the idle chatter of the old ones you had overheard a few nights ago. The temple stood before you, immaculate and serene, its presence undeniable. The fragrance of incense and sacred wood wafted through the air, enveloping you in a scent that stirred a nostalgic echo within the depths of your memory.

It was spring, the season of blossoms, and flowers adorned every corner of the sacred place, their vibrant hues adding a touch of grace to the temple's tranquility. Despite your skepticism and lack of faith in such matters, you could now understand the profound solace this sanctuary offered to its believers. The peace it bestowed upon them was almost palpable, a gentle whisper of calm in a world filled with chaos.

Now, standing before the grand wooden door, your nerves began to fray. Even in a place where the energy was supposed to be gentle and benevolent, you couldn't shake the tightness in your chest. You couldn't tell if it was due to your past calamities, that darkness that seemed to follow you everywhere, or if this place simply gave you an uneasy feeling.

As you pushed the door, the creak of the wood flooded your ears, though it was no louder than the pounding of your heart or the white noise ringing in your ears. Stepping inside, your eyes were immediately drawn to the temple's interior splendor. The walls were a rich saffron hue, and the corners were painted a beautiful chocolate color, so polished you were certain they were cleaned daily. Some walls were a deep olive, adorned with protective amulets. Before you stood a small staircase leading up to a dais with a sliding door. Your eyes wandered for a moment, your gaze fixed on the curling smoke of the incense placed on one of the shelves. It seemed there was someone there, yet your sight did not reveal them.

“Hello..?”

”―You spoke almost in a whisper, feeling like a frightened puppy with its tail between its legs. Your hands were trembling and sweaty as you tried to dry them on the fabric of your skirt.―

Moments passed in a silence so profound that the only sound was the creaking of the wood beneath your shoes. Then, the sliding door opened, revealing a female figure. She was dressed in traditional Japanese attire, a "Gojo-Kesa." The woman was quite tall, especially compared to you, the difference in height stark and almost intimidating.

Her long hair was tied in a mid-bun, so black it could easily blend with the darkness of night. Her ears were adorned with black plug expanders, adding a distinctive touch to her appearance.

Her hands were clasped together, hidden within the sleeves of her traditional attire. She walked with such elegance that it was astonishing how she made almost no sound at all. As she reached the dais, she gracefully lowered herself to the floor, one arm resting on a red bench. A smile without showing her teeth spread across her face, radiating kindness and appearing entirely devoid of any ulterior motive.

"It seems I do not recognize your face, miss. You have never been here before, have you?"

 ―said the woman. Her eyes fixed intently on you, and you could feel her gaze as if she were trying to read you completely, peering into your very soul. All the while, she maintained that smile. Despite her persistent smile, which initially seemed kind, you couldn't help but feel it was turning into something more sinister. You couldn't shake the nervousness that gripped you; you wanted to speak, but your vocal cords seemed to be playing a cruel joke on you.―

Your voice came out almost in a whisper, your head spinning and feeling how your legs gradually weakened. 

"N-no, I've never been here before," 

you felt the urge to escape, the air was thinning, and a pressure on your chest assured you it wasn't just your minor issue weighing you down.

"Headaches, dizziness, feeling watched, hallucinations, and paranoia isn’t it?" 

she said, the smile creeping never leaving her face, almost as if she were mocking you. Her purple eyes stared at you as if finding amusement in your distress.

"H-how do you know that?"  ―you stutter, your hands now clasped tightly in front of your body. ―

"Come closer to me, darling." her voice flowed like honey, contrasting with the mocking tone of her voice. Her hand gestured for you to approach her, her body still laying lazily towards the bench.

The sound of your shoes echoing on the polished wood was the only thing audible in the room. Her eyes never left yours, making her intimidating, yet her physical allure was undeniable. You had never felt physical attraction toward a woman before, especially someone who, with just a gaze, could make your stomach tighten and your head spin.

Her arm lazily lifted, as if she were swallowing something with her hand. Gradually, the heaviness that had been tormenting your shoulders began to dissipate. Your eyes widened in shock, a look of utter disbelief spreading across your face. Meanwhile, the woman's expression turned to one of satisfaction as she held what appeared to be a yellowish orange crystal ball.

"Better?" she says with a satisfied smile on her face, as if she knew and took pride in her powers. It was as if she saw you as an inferior being to her, as if you didn't matter, an empty shell.

You felt completely liberated, the weight on your shoulders finally gone, and that feeling was enough to overshadow your doubts and fear of the intimidating woman before you. 

"How..?"

――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

―Weeks passed, and it seemed you couldn't stop wandering around the same place whenever you could. You were so grateful to that woman that you felt you owed her your life. Her kind smile always thanked you for the small gestures, or that’s what you thought. Whether bringing incense or flowers to decorate the temple. You even stayed to clean and polish those chocolate-colored wood floors you adored so much.

Geto detested you, hiding that with her usual kind smile, applying sanitizer whenever she could, when you weren't looking or after you'd left. Yet, in her own words, you were the best-behaved monkey she'd ever seen. It seemed you genuinely believed she had made that gesture to help you, to help others, and to lift that weight from their shoulders. The reality was different: absorbing curses to store them and use them to her advantage for her new world.

"Miss Geto, I brought flowers! Where should I put them?"―

You say happily.  almost adorably, holding a bouquet of lavender, Geto's favorite. Her gaze returns to you, briefly eyeing your petite figure, that fake smile without using her teeth that she usually gave you. She shifts her usual posture, spreading her arms to point with her finger at a white vase adorned with blue decorations.

Happily, you place the lavender bouquet in the vase, your smile never leaving your face. You even came often to pray, spreading gratitude to the strange woman you believed enjoyed your presence. You are so foolish, thinking she enjoyed those little conversations you had with her or thought well of you. She saw you as nothing more than a mere toy to be used, just a simple monkey and nothing more.

As you sat down to pray as usual, your knees on the floor, you cursed yourself for wearing such a short skirt. It rolled up to your thighs each time you bow your head to the ground, showing those white panties that you carefully chose every day you went to the temple, like she was going to see them. The thin fabric barely covering your puffy folds that were already soaking wet— poor baby It wasn't your fault— she just looked so pretty every time and you couldn’t resist yourself. You just wanted to catch her attention. You wanted her to see you, to know you existed. You lived for her praise and that small smile that tugged every time you remembered her favorite flower or her favorite scent.

You didn't know why you felt this way; you had never felt any physical or emotional attraction towards a woman before, but with her, it was different. You wanted her to see you, your heart pounded every time you saw her arrive or whenever her eyes lingered on you for just a moment longer. 

And for mere seconds, you felt her gaze. Your head was on the ground, hands placed in front of you, and you deliberately shifted your hips forward, causing your skirt to lift, revealing the view of soaked panties, showing the thin fabric almost completely transparent with how wet your core was. You could feel how everytime you shifted yourself to sit down the friction in between bows, leaving a wet strip of juices all over the floor. 

This action did not go unnoticed by the dark-haired woman, and for the first time, a slight smile crossed her lips. Her purple eyes carefully examined the girl's figure. Of course, she noticed your advances, every time you blushed when she looked at you for more than a few seconds, or when she gave you empty compliments but your eyes seemed to sparkle every time she said them.

I wouldn't lie to you; she didn't deny finding the power difference over you fascinating. You might even seem adorable to her in her own way. She might even consider you deserving in her new world—the only monkey she wouldn't mind having by her side.

When she saw you innocently stand up after pretending not to notice that you had done that just to get her attention, a small smile graced her lips. You innocently adjusted your skirt, and it seemed you didn't even bother to wipe that spot in the floor where your wet pussy grazed. 

As usual, you bid her farewell with an innocent smile, lifting your head to meet her gaze, hands clasped together as you bowed slightly. Your eyes eager to take in every detail of the girl, hoping for her usual smile in return.

——————————————————————————————————―――――――

—She didn't deny it; she had spent a long time doing absolutely nothing since leaving the academy. Her world was her only priority; she needed nothing else, and nothing would give her more pleasure than the outcome of a world without monkeys. However, in the darkness of her room, it seemed to be the opposite.

Hand pressed into her sensitive bud, her index finger doing circular motions as she cupped one of her breasts pinching her nipple. Her forehead glistened with sweat, her mouth slightly open, and her back slightly arched. She felt ashamed to stoop so low—how could she, a monkey, wield such power over her? Days had passed, yet she couldn't stop thinking about her. She couldn't understand if it was her lack of intimacy in these past 10 years or simply falling for her charms. It was pathetic and it made her entire worldview shift—everything she believed was right, that mental state and opinion she had taken so long to accept, reduced to a mess of moans as she put two digits into her pussy pumping in and out. She could feel her walls clench more with the thought of her tongue inside your pussy, drinking your sweet juices. Her fingers finding that sweet spot that could make you see the stars in mere seconds. Her mind raced as she remembered you bending, showing that pretty cunt of yours, only serving to feed her thoughts further.

Note author : This fanfic almost made my head explode! I'm the biggest hater when it comes to multi-part fics, but I swear I even fell asleep with the laptop on my legs. I hope to finish it soon, hopefully within this week, and not take a whole month just to complete one part.

©phantomnecromancer on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, modify or translate my works.

[aeoki]

White Brim - Epilogue 2

Location: Villa Characters: Touri, Tsukasa, Eichi & Hiyori

TL Note:

The term for “maid headdress” is “white brim” in Japanese. 

Touri: Oh, geez… I’m speechless.

How strange. I don’t even feel frustrated seeing how we suffered a complete defeat.

Eichi: Well, I’d say you two worked quite hard. It wouldn’t have been strange for us to end things earlier, but you two held on quite for quite a long time until the end.

Tsukasa: Tomoe Onii-sama was quite the nuisance… Who would’ve thought a “prey (fish)” would be armed.

Hiyori: Hehe. Even if one was quick to be stripped of their status, it’s difficult for them to rid themselves of the shackles of this world. And that’s also why it’s difficult for discrimination to completely disappear.

Even in a game that’s constructed in a convenient way for us, the problems of the real world still persist.

Eichi: Yeah. You notice the design flaw behind the weak rules. You deserve praise, Hiyori-kun – you’re surprisingly quite cunning.

Hiyori: Not as much as you, Eichi-kun. Just what on earth are you? A demon?

Eichi: I’ll take that as a compliment.

Touri: …………

Eichi: Hm? What’s wrong, Touri? Do you feel down after being tricked and defeated in such an overwhelming manner?

Are you disillusioned by me?

Touri: No… The Eichi-sama who shines beautifully like an angel on stage and the Eichi-sama who triumphs over everyone like a demon…

I love both sides of you. That’s what I’ve always said.

Eichi: I see. The tears you shed when you thought I had died were real. Even I don’t doubt that brilliance.

You truly care for someone like me.

Touri: Yeah. It looks like you’ve never believed me, though.

So teach me more about yourself – just like how you did this time. I want to learn about and love everything about the Eichi-sama that I adore.

Don’t hide yourself, put up a good front or pretend to be someone you’re not. Don’t show me a fake Eichi-sama – show me your real self.

Please. From now on, don’t distance yourself from me.

Eichi: I’ll do my best. That, I will promise.

I hope at the very least that when I’m truly dead, it won’t be a farewell at the bottom of despair that’s full of grief – I hope you’ll be able to smile if not just a little.

I’ll tell you everything about me. A little at a time. I pray you’ll be able to accept everything without collapsing from it all.

Touri: ………♪

Tsukasa: Hehe. It appears Touri-kun has finally reached the same place as I.

Just like how I received those things from Leader – from Leo-san – I’m glad you’ve also obtained it, albeit a bit late.

Touri: Why are you talking like you’re above me?

Tsukasa: Well, I am the winner this time round. I think the frustration I felt after losing to “Crazy:B” has somewhat dissipated ♪

Eichi: Right. Your virtue is in being straightforward, but there’s no such thing as a straight line in the natural world. You should learn to handle things in a more realistic and flexible way.

Tsukasa: Yes. Thank you for the opportunity, Tenshouin Onii-sama ♪

Now, I understand how enjoyable it can be to reflect and chat about the game we played last night, but I’m sure you’re all busy people.

So shall we make use of the “winner’s privilege” right away?

Touri: ? What’re you talking about?

Eichi: Hehe. We’re holding quite a lavish banquet this time – Would you like to see another wicked and dirty side of me, Touri?

It can be more effective to lie instead of telling the truth at times, you see.

Touri: ………?

Eichi: I’ve talked to Tsukasa-kun and Anzu-chan about this already and it seems Hiyori-kun knows, but has chosen to stay silent. To tell you the truth, the losers of the “Clam Digging” game will serve the winners for a whole day.

Tsukasa: That’s right. That’s the “winner’s privilege” – the reward we received for winning.

Touri: Huh? Serve you guys…? We already faced humiliation when we lost but we have to feel more shame?

Eichi: The winners gain everything while the losers lose it all… Come, Anzu-chan, it’s time to bring out the outfits you made.

Touri: Huh? What? Anzu, why do you have such a happy look in your eyes…!?

Tsukasa: Hehe. I thought it would be odd for Onee-sama to trick and betray you, but I see this was her goal.

Onee-sama must be really wanting to have us wear such adorable outfits.

To be honest, I can’t quite understand those feelings, but as I also like Onee-sama very much, then I, too, wish to understand her.

So, Touri-kun. You’re going to be my cute maid for the day.

Eichi: And Hiyori-kun shall be my maid ♪ Don’t run away now! It’s not your first time, is it?

Hiyori: T–This is why I didn’t want to attend the parties that Eichi-kun is in charge of!

I don’t mind wearing a cute maid outfit, but I don’t want to serve you!

Eichi: Well, why don’t you just admit that you were unlucky?

I know you must have wanted to be the “hunter (fisherman)” to defeat me, making me yield to you.

Unfortunately, reality doesn’t play out so easily in your favour.

Hiyori: Urgh, how frustrating! I’ll definitely win next year! And I’ll return this humiliation to you a hundred times as much!

Eichi: That’s something a gambler would say.

Tsukasa: That’s right. If you’re frustrated, then just win next time.

…I won’t lose, either – Not again.

Touri: N–No! Just so you know, I lost to Eichi-sama – Not you, Tsukasa!

I guess I’ve got no choice because of the rules, but I wanna be Eichi-sama’s servant at least! I don’t wanna serve Tsukasa!

Tsukasa: Now, stop whining and trying to get away. What are you, a small child?

Touri: Uwaaaaaah! Stop! Don’t force me to wear it! Don’t try to put that white brim headdress[⁎] on me!

Eichi: You must give something of equal value if you’re to gain something in return, Touri.

If you don’t want to wear the headdress that indicates you’re a loser, then grow – be stronger.

And win the next time.

Fortunately, there should be numerous opportunities for you in the future.

Touri: G–Geez, I’ve had enough of this~! Teach me what’s important and unimportant in a normal way, Eichi-sama!

I’ll come to hate you if you treat me horribly, okay? Eichi: Ahaha. I suppose I’ll teach you how to do a good job lying first…♪

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapterf

[sketchfanda]

A Little Moxxie Love:Hot Mama

It's a known fact that it wasn't easy being a parent but especially a single one. Now try of course being a single parent when you were born, raised an living in Hell of all places, especially within the Pride ring, home to such chaotic metropolis beacons such as Imp City and Pentagram town. Yeah just about sucks doesn't it? For one infernal single mama of course, who for the sake of convenience, let's call her Janine, it was what it was.

That is to say it was a mundane drag and that was just in regards to the part time job she worked, just some atypical 9 to 5 bullshit office putting up with annoying phonecalls, catty bitches and sexist, chauvinistic assholes. To say nothing of the odd crap she would go through, sure hell wasn't the nicest place to be, but it'd be just grand to not have some ill tempered hellhound come along the fuck out of nowehre and punt her baby, right?? Shit was fucked up around here to say the least but that's not to say she didn't have things that made it all the more manageable for her. Case in point as she had just finished putting the kid to sleep, making her way over to her bedroom quiet as can be so as to not disturb the little tyke.

Soon as she her door closed, she checked the time on her alarm clock as a sense of anticipation coursed through her very being. Stripping down to being as naked as the day she was born as she parked herself on the edge of her bed, looking out her window as she made sure the shadowy darkness kept her well hidden. The apartment was about as good as you could get in Imp City on her salary of course but for someone with 3 kids, it did the job. But for her personally, one of the best things was the view she got from her bedroom window and with good reason.

Right on cue like clock work, there they were as her window had the prefect view of the apartment across the way. Allowing her to especially see when the couple next door would be going it, an oh so lovely imp pair so very much in love....and going right at it like every goddamn day was their honeymoon. It made her envious and jealous alike but she couldn't hate them for it, especially when they always gave such a good show. Licking and biting her lips sensually as she could see them making out in their bedroom, currently stripped down to their underwear.

She could feel a waterfall form between her legs, as she reached for her dresser drawer and fished out what had been her personal favourite sex toy purhcase to date. Ozzie's best seller, the Brand M Imp model dildo, a fine little piece of length and girth to come off of the assembly line as she began to use it. Probing and rubbing the tip against her moist slit as she continued to indulge in her voyeurism, watching as Moxxie and Millie made out, their heavy petting oozing sensual erotic energy as they stripped one another to be fully nude. Janine's arousal skyrocketing as she wondered would this be one of those nights that it'd be just one of them one on one?

Or would this one of those occassions where they'd have a little extram company? Oh the women she's seen join M&M in the comfort and passion of their bedroom, from that familiar moody looking hellhound to an Ars Goetia and more than their fair share of succubi to say the very least. At one point she could swear she saw the infamous Daemon sisters and Verosika freakin' Mayday, goddamn did those two really get around!! To say nothing of how fucking hot it was to see them all get taken to Satisfaction Avenue and back, riding that big sexy alpha male cock over and over....the absolute raw sexual thrill.

Just as she was reminiscing of course, Janine made sure not to lose focus as she saw the M&M couple going right at it, putting horny college kids to shame with the passionate honeymoon rutting energy they were giving off. Ramming and pumping her dildo into her gushing wet netherlips in tune and sync with the jackhammering thrusts Millie was getting from that absolute unit of an Imp the wrath shortstack called her husband. How many times had she cum to this, just thinking, dreaming of just once of what it would be like to have one night of passion with that absolute unit imp. To become another notch on his belt of conquests even just for one night and feel like she'd be ruined for other men, it was enough to make her cum.

Such was her lust driven haziness that the single hot mama had to wonder if there moments she'd been imagining things, like how it seemed like Millie could see her. Like the wrath imp knew they were being watched, as if she had a sixth sense, some innate radar that could sense when someone like Janine lusted for her man. Shooting her a sly wink and a smile whenever she seemed to be looking her way as Moxxie took her doggy style, or rode him cowgirl or seated lotus. But that couldn’t be, just had to be Something she was imagining from orgasmic haze, right?

That’s what she kept telling herself of course as she finished her secret voyeurism session, drifting off into the sweet embrace of sleep atop her sweat stained bedsheets. Her juice soaked dildo laying beside her as she found herself enjoying kinky dreams about Moxxie rocking her lonely single mom world, ensuring she had a more than decent slumber. Unaware of course that a certain kinky wrath imp was going to make her fantasies a reality in ways she couldn’t imagine. Thinking only that her daily routine would be set of its usual rinse and repeat routine like today snd every other day before that.

It seemed to be the case at first, wake up and shower, breakfast for herself and her precious little tyke, drop him off to daycare if a sitter wasn’t available then the usual 9 to 5 grind. Only to find a note pinned on her apartment door with a knife, the post-it marked with a lipstick kiss as it read that if she wanted to more than just watch? Just come to the address written on it, and it was signed M, unholy shit had Millie actually caught her in the act? Wait was she actually inviting her over?

Then again what else could be said when the note gave her a time to show up at, was that imp seriously going to let her sleep with her husband? On the one hand this was suspicious but on the other could she really pass this up? It was all she had going through her mind as she went about her day, the minutes and hours both seeming to fly by yet move at a snail’s pace all at once but when work finished and she picked up her baby from daycare, she made her decision. Carpe diem as they would say, as she managed to get one of her neighbours to sit and watch her kid, as she found herself making her way to the apartment building next door, coming to stop in front of Moxxie and Millie’s place and knocked.

Millie:*The shortstack kinky wife of Moxxie answered, opening the door to greet Janine with nothing on her but a pretty little gap-tooth smile and a silky sleeping gown. Her golden imp eyes twinkling with excitement as they seemed to drink in the taller demon MILF from head to toe, as if mentally undressing her and liking what she saw.* "Ooh you're even better looking up close. C'mon c'mon in, don't wanna keep 'im waiting too long now.."*The saucy imp babe spoke with eagerness as she took Janine by the hand and lead her inside, closing the door behind them. Bringing her right with her to what could only be their bedroom, reminding the lonely single mama that this would be a first to be in the same place she watched the sex lives of these two happily married, horny imps.*

Janine:"L-listen, can I just explain say that.."*The hot demon MILF attempted to speak up, trying to explain and apologize for her being a peeping Tom. That she just couldn't help herself, watching the hottest sex she'd ever witnessed outside of porno featuring the likes of Angeldust but Millie didn't seem to mind or care. It seemed the idea someone like her was getting off watching Moxxie and her go at it was a real turn-on for her, as they soon found themselves in the bedroom. Greeted with the sight of Moxxie sitting on the bed wearing a set of noise cancelling headphones and a blindfold and of course that glorious length and girth of his out in the open, standing stiff and rigid as a flagpole and looking like he could hammer nails into solid steel or concrete with it.*

Moxxie:*Looks around, no doubt curious and slightly concerned as he could sense their presence somewhat.* "MIllie? That you? Do I still need this on or you still prepping that surprise of yours?"*The sweet little possum enquired, no doubt unaware of what his kinky lady love had in store for him. Janine putting two and two together even as she found herself ogling that COCK, its twitching and flexing pulse beckoning her like a siren call, demanding her to present herself like the bitch in heat she was. The MILF jumping with a slight masochistic delight as she felt Millie slap her ass, looking at the Imp babe who grinned with lust, licking her lips as she gestured for her to go on right ahead. The single mom blushing as she realized this was indeed happening, she was being granted permission and access and Millie wanted a show.*

She didn’t need to be asked or told once, let alone twice as the hot mama proceeded to strip down until she was fully naked, Millie licking her lips with erotic excitement at seeing the sticky wetness glistening between her thighs. Making her way over with every step making her tits and ass jiggle like jello as she she knelt down before the hearing and sight deprived Imp stud, breathing in the raw scent emanating from that alpha male cock. Pussy gushing and drooling with nectar just how many other women this fuckhammer stuffed and plowed, now she was about be the latest one. Grasping it firmly in her hands as he gasped at the sudden contact, more so when Janine began to stroke it and assault it with licks and kisses.

Before the hot mama knew it, things escalated as she soon herself getting a deep, hard and powerful facefuck, hands grasping Moxxie’s toned thighs for dear life as the imp sex machine held her by the horns. His length and girth jackhammering away into her mouth as she got an oral preview to what of experience her pussy was going to be on the receiving end of, as the aforementioned slit gushed snd quivered. Dribbling onto a growing puddle on the floor as her throat bulged from the size of his penetrating shaft as Millie watched on, naked as well as she rammed her brand M dildo into her own sloppy pussy. As always watching her man rock some pretty little thing’s world got her going Something fierce.

Fierce was certainly how Janine was feeling right about now just when she thought the blowjob had been orgasmic, the moment that cock got into her pussy? Oooh her world was shaking so hard, it’d be akin to a hellquake as the bed shook and creamed from Moxxie fucking her, as she rode him cowgirl style. Her ass smacking on his hips as she bounced on that shaft, feeling those balls smack the outer rim of her netherlips as he bucked and plowed away like the pornographic jackhammer he was. She’d never thought of ever having another kid but with how damn good this stud was making her feel?

She would damn well gladly have another, a whole army from him even, due to just how damn good this cock felt as orgasms hit her so many times that she couldn’t keep count. The pleasure only levelling up not just from any and every position shift but more so when Millie went and added herself into the mix. The kinky lady love of the infernal sex god showing that there was a good reason why they had so many women over at this apartment getting their asses tapped by Moxxie. Well besides the fact he was one hell of a sex machine of course.

It was an easy bet to say that Janine didn’t let this little encounter be a one time thing as she more than happily accepted Millie’s unspoken offer to be another regular booty call for her man. Especially when the horny little minx always ensured that Janine’s tyke would always be in the care of a sitter, leaving her free to get her regular dose of vitamin Mox. Yeah life in hell as a single demon mom wasn’t easy but for Janine? Getting the best fuck of your life made it that little bit sweeter, and how sweet it is.

[clandestinegardenias]

Look, I understand the desire for a revolution. I do. And it’s possible I might be convinced that we need one, at some point. I am open to the idea that I might be wrong!

But…literal Marxist theory posits that the way you get to a communist society is by working your way through a democracy. That’s the first STEP. Then you move to democratic socialism, then socialism, then communism. Anything that moves us away from a democracy (as I’m concerned another Trump presidency would, that man wants to be a dictator so bad) is a step AWAY from a leftist agenda. Because sure, maybe you get your ‘glorious revolution’ if Trump is president because he literally makes living conditions so unbearable that it triggers widespread revolt but from a critical Marxist standpoint you’d be revolting to get back to a democracy so you can start at that step all over again! This is a big reason theorists posit socialism/communism in the Soviet Union fell apart; too big a change too quickly and skipping steps in between.

We also have to consider that getting to the point of full blown revolution would mean catastrophic levels of suffering for people with lower socioeconomic power—POC, the queer community, folks in poverty, people with disabilities, etc.

AND any US dictatorship or similar government has an entire industrial military complex to back it up. A successful revolution would necessitate either getting that military complex on board, in which case you often end up with a military dictatorship (you can imagine how well THAT goes) or beating it which…I’m sorry, even the entire civilian population of the US cannot do. The military is light years more advanced than it was in Marx’s time, rebellion is so so so so much more complicated. It also sets a precedent for violent exchanges of power that tend to set countries up for a decades/centuries long tailspin of military coups in which the people with the most gun power (again…usually not vulnerable groups) win control.

I’m not trying to be a fatalist, here. I actually think fatalism is a tool of the oppressor and we have to fight against it tooth and nail. I’m just trying to logic out what will happen if Kamala/Walz lose and Trump/Vance win. What does that really look like? What is the next step, the next outcome that will lead us to a better place? And I just cannot, for those reasons above, see a Trump presidency leading us anywhere good. That IS what we will get if people hold out on voting for Harris as a form of protest. I’m all for protest!!!!! But it needs to be in a different avenue, because you have to consider the real life repercussions not voting will have.

I mean, what are the options? What happens if people protest by not voting? (...this assumes you don't start from the position that Harris and Trump will be literally NO different in office, which, well, that's another post)

1. Harris wins regardless, but a signal is sent that people to the left aren’t appeased and democrats need to do more. How effective this would be in moving actual policy is debateable, and it also puts the moral onus/responsibility conveniently on others just so you can feel like your hands are clean while simultaneously risking a worse outcome. Not cool.

2. Trump wins. Far more likely because, as we saw in 2020, the country was nearly evenly split on Trump vs. Biden. Current polling shows more or less the same with Trump vs. Harris. If the left stays home, the likelihood Trump wins skyrockets. So, what happens next?

2.A. Trump wins, but the world doesn’t end. He doesn’t do anything too terribly awful. The left has ideally signaled they will only vote for a Dem if they are liberal enough. I seriously doubt Trump won’t do anything too terribly awful though—look at what his first presidency did!!! Look at Project 2025!!!!! So. Other option.

2.B. Trump wins and the world is on fire. He strips away womens’ rights, queer rights, he tanks the working class and worker protections, starts a war, starts a dictatorship, whatever. He already started a lot of this during his first presidency. In this case, either…

2.B.1. This is still not enough to trigger a revolution. Vulnerable people are hurt and die at a far greater pace than under a Democratic presidency. We go on as before, fighting to regain key protections. Perhaps the Dems put forward a more liberal candidate to try and beat him next time, if democracy still exists, but likely? We end up with a conservative centrist anyway.

2.B.2. Trump does trigger a revolution. All I can see is how many vulnerable people would suffer and die. The military HAS to be involved and either takes control of government (terrible start to socialism!!!!!) or kills revolutionaries en masse and the rebellion fails. If civilians somehow defeated the US military, which is an astronomically low possibility, then we set up a more liberal democracy...how, exactly? With all the conservatives and moderates still in our country? Honestly, HOW. Kill them? Try and make them ‘see the light’? That happens via education, not a civil war. We could try and go straight to communism but theory and history show us that doesn’t work—you have to work your way towards it through democracy.

It is SO much more efficient and would put so many fewer vulnerable people in grave danger to start by keeping the democracy we already have by voting in Harris and THEN working on our protests to shift the needle towards democratic socialism. We’ve seen that these protests CAN WORK!!!!! They got us Biden dropping out!!!!! Harris picked a VP far more appealing to a liberal mindset than many of her other top options! WE ARE ALREADY SHIFTING THE NEEDLE. Keep it shifting, don’t give in to fatalism, and remember that you have to go through the steps to have an actual, stable, reliable socialist or communist republic. Vote.

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

I truly don't know how you can see pictures of men stripped to their underwear, kneeling on the ground, in rows, and not have alarm bells ringing. People really will just go with the mainstream explanation of anything when it's convenient, huh? I saw those photos and my fucking heart rate jumped. Other people see it and apparently are just like Oh! Well, Israel says they're all Hamas, so I guess that's who they are and it's fine. :)

But I have to say--and I try not to do this usually--but it is really disappointing (doesn't quite cover it, but for lack of a better word) coming from women who know what it's like for the mainstream to tell you to ignore what you can clearly see with your own fucking eyes. When we're told that women can be men and say no the fuck they cannot. Where is this energy when the mainstream tells us "Israel's just defending itself from terrorists" when it's clearly a fucking massacre of civilians for an intended land-grab? Their politicians and military leaders have fucking SAID as much!

To be clear, I know it is impossible to be informed about every single atrocity taking place in the world, and I know not everyone not directly involved has been keeping up on and off through the last two decades as I have, and no I don't want people blindly spreading information if they don't know what's true and what isn't. As I said, I have not been keeping up consistently. There are other things closer to home, or which have a direct impact on myself or people I love, such my own country's actions towards the Indigenous peoples here. So I'm not shaming people who don't know and who can't add this issue to the list of things in the world they're spending energy on. It's disappointing to see how much silence there is, but I think impossible to hold any individual responsible or to make assumptions about why any one person hasn't said anything about it. So I'm not going to do that.

But I absolutely am talking about those who see the images, see the videos, see the reports from human rights organizations, see the statements by Israeli officials and still come down on the side of the oppressor. Like, do you not remember how a bunch of us gathered articles and news reports to prove to TRAs that yes, men are a danger to women even when they claim to be women, and how they responded with "cherry-picking!" "no true trans!" even against hundreds of such reports? Or else they justified it as retaliation against "transphobia"? And yet in spite of all this information out there, the idea that men can be women if they say so is fully mainstream. Women's voices are completely ignored. How do you not draw parallels? Because I'll tell you there are plenty to be drawn. These current events in Palestine aren't new. They've been happening since 1948. Which predates the existence of Hamas by several decades, by the way.

I don't understand it. I don't understand how you can do that, and I think the only explanation is racism. Because I don't see how else you could hear about pregnant Palestinian women being stopped at checkpoints and forcibly stripped, about disabled Palestinian women arrested and denied menstrual products and left to bleed in their wheelchairs, about Israeli soldiers using rubber bullets against disabled Palestinians engaging in peaceful protest, about a young American peace activist run over and crushed by a bulldozer as she stood in front of a Palestinian home, about women and girls held in Israeli detention centres where they're sexually harassed and assaulted by Israeli officers, about children as young as eight years old arrested and held for months on the charges of "throwing stones at soldiers", about women dying in childbirth or losing their newborns because of the lack of medical resources thanks to Israeli blockades or cutting the power, about a mother watching her children burn alive in white phosphorus with absolutely no way to stop it, about a woman drugged by an Israeli collaborator, stripped naked while unconscious, and having her photos sent to her religious family, etc.. I don't see how you could know about these things as a self-proclaimed feminist and still think Israel is justified.

It's racism.

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Twenty-Six — Crossfire

I could see a bit of the sky now from where I was, since we were on the edge of the bridge. I couldn’t really see the stars anymore, something I’d grown accustomed to in Chapman’s ruralness and reinforced by Salmon Bay. It was the dead of night, and I couldn’t wait to get off of the floor and sleep the rest of the way to wherever this guy lived, even if that’d only be another hour.  But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

4.9k words | 16 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence, Erosionverse-typical violence, guns, shooting, arguing, depression ? is that a tw?

It took three and a half days before we even crossed the border into Louisiana. 

Brent, Dad, and Dr. Sims would rotate who would drive — Brent only allowed to do so at day — and when I begged for a chance, not only did Dad brush me off, but he wouldn’t even let me leave my spot in the back of the truck. Every pit stop, every leg stretch, every dine-in at some fast food place — Dad was there, closer than my own shadow, policing everything I could do in that moment. 

I was about to fucking lose it.

I get that something was wrong with me. I understand that he’s seen me have a breakdown more than once in the past few days and was probably worried. But I wasn’t glass! He used to be big on independence, on letting us make our own mistakes and touting how he wanted us to live how we wanted, and just wanted to give advice when we wanted it. Now? I had no space, at all, and was seconds from going feral. 

Brent could see it. He didn’t say much at all, not audibly, but he did at some point message me are you okay? and sighed when I shrugged. I laid the phone back on my lap and it stayed there for all of seventeen seconds before it pinged again and I flipped it, a screenshot in the messages. 

Mei and Brent were still chatting away, Mei explaining how no one from the original group talked to Tommy much at all anymore. Even Cat stopped signing to her cousin. We’re all really worried about Jean, though…you’re sure she’s okay? We thought we saw her die in that footage of the seattle fight. 

She’s fine, Brent promised, just a bit banged up. 

Reese wants to talk to her. I mean we all do but Reese…well, you know her. She’s been at my house since new years and its been a challenge trying to get her to eat. Do you think Jean would want to reach out to her?

In the textbox was Brent’s message to me, a simple would you wanna? that he knew I’d see. 

And I looked at him and shook my head, turning away to look back out of the window before he could convince me otherwise. 

I couldn’t take the concerns or questions right now. I didn’t want to explain to them how something was wrong with me. And, God, how do I face them after what I did to Seattle? Why would they want to know someone like me, someone who could wipe them off of the face of the earth in an instant on some stupid mistake?

They were safer in Portland, with me in their past. 

I was surprised by just how warm it got the farther south we went. Like, sure, I knew some people would rush to the south during winter to avoid the snow — but it was spring weather down here! Sixty, seventy degrees Fahrenheit! We didn’t get those sort of numbers in Chapman till May. I even threw off the woven blanket at some point, storing it on the floorboard simply because it felt too good to need the extra heat.

As we made a gas stop in Baton Rouge and everyone got out to stretch, Brent stripped off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, complaining. “God, it feels gross out here,”

Dad seemed to agree, and Dr. Sims was too far away to join in the conversation — but he also stripped off his coat as he walked towards the convenience store, slinging it over his shoulder. 

Was it warm? Sure. But it didn’t warrant the forehead swipes or the gripes. “Maybe your steel insides have changed how you deal with temperature or something, because it feels amazing,” I said, hopping up from the tire so I could sit on the edge of the truck’s bed. 

Brent looked at me like I was insane. “Are you serious? It’s so muggy,”

“That’s gotta be the marshes,” Dad hummed, rolling up his own sleeves. 

“You’re both dramatic,” I teased. “I’d kill for Portland to feel like this,”

Brent’s bewilderment on his face grew as Dad regarded me for a moment before a half-smile broke on his face. “Do you feel the humidity?” he asked me.

“What humidity?”

He laughed, sliding the gas nozzle back into place. “That’s why you feel good — you’re probably in Conduit heaven. It’s humid right now, Jean. There’s so much water in the air it feels sticky,”

I had no idea what he was talking about. 

Well, now that he mentioned it, that soreness between my shoulder blades I could never seem to shake was nearly gone, and my wounds weren’t all that itchy or in pain. I even felt confident enough to move around without the arm sling, my braced arm free to the elements. That’s what Dad concentrated on — my exposed arm with no support. “Jean, you should put your sling back on—��

“I’m fine, Dad,” I swore, hoping I’d be able to stop this in its tracks before it got bad. I hopped from my place on the truck and said, “I need to go to the bathroom,”

“Hold on, let me get—” Dad started, reaching into the truck for something. 

“Dad.” I deadened. “I’m just going to the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

I scurried off into the dark before he could protest more, desperate to catch fifteen seconds to myself.

We were so close to this special person that supposedly had all the answers. I couldn’t remember the guy’s name, I was always bad at that — but I did remember how Dr. Sims insisted he was important. He’s the closest we will ever get to talking to Cole MacGrath. 

Cole MacGrath. The DUP had spent so much time painting him as a demon that even now you’ll find people that consider him a terrorist. They’d always point to the footage of him blowing up that section of Empire City and scream how he killed thousands. But there were stories from refugees from New Marais or people who snuck out of Empire City before it was decimated that touted him a hero. Footage from some old newscasters that snuck past the quarantine line to interview survivors of the explosion that happened in the city repeating the same: that he was a champion. Saving people, defeating rogue gangs that rose up in the aftermath of the explosion. 

The other side would always scream back That he caused!

After the DUP fell and the government had to declassify a bunch of documents in their UN case, people were forced to acknowledge he actually wasn’t that bad a guy. How different was he from Dad? Not much. And that’s what I held on to initially; he was a guy trying to do the right thing. Even if he fucked up, he did more than others. Definitely more than the government did during the quarantine. Isn’t that enough? 

I wonder how much guilt he carried to the end over everyone he couldn’t help. 

Either way, he was the first recorded Conduit, apparently someone who’s seen tar like Augustine’s, and we’d have to go to the next best source to learn more since we couldn’t ask MacGrath without performing a séance. What kind of guy — normal guy, apparently — was a good enough replacement source for the Cole MacGrath? 

There was a sudden knock on the door of the women’s restroom and both the woman walking towards a stall and the one washing her hands with me froze. We glanced at each other the way strangers in situations did; awkward, wordless side glances as we debated whether or not it was worth speaking up to talk to each other. Who knocks on a multi-stall restroom door?

Unfortunately, I knew exactly who. 

“Jean?” Dad’s voice called from the other side. I felt like I was going to explode from embarrassment, my face in the mirror quickly turning red. “You in there?”

“Oh my God,” I whispered, thinking about going humid on the spot and never returning to my solid body. He could not be doing this and not see that it was absolutely humiliating! The other women definitely sensed my embarrassment, both turning to regard me as I mumbled some sort of apology, shook my hands out till the water from the sink seeped in, and gripped the handle of the door with white knuckles, barely able to take a deep breath before opening it. 

Dad was there against the wall, barely allowing enough room for anyone to pass — and closing that space immediately when I stepped out. “Hey, there you are,” He greeted, like he wasn’t trying to infantilize me. “I told you to wait for m—”

“I can piss on my own, Dad.” I snipped, shoving myself into that small space between him and the wall and slipping past, briskly walking away. 

Dad caught up with ease, falling in step beside me as the automatic doors to the gas station’s convenience store opened. “You shouldn’t be going anywhere alone right now,” he stressed, ignoring my bite. “You’re not…”

“I’m not what?” I demanded, spinning on him. “Capable? Competent? It’s the bathroom, Dad! I get that I fucked up and I’m broken now—”

“Jean, don’t curse—”

“—And that I can’t do anything right, but that doesn’t mean you’ve got to treat me like a toddler! I’m not going to drown anyone while washing my hands.” 

Something in Dad’s eyes changed. “That’s not what I meant—”

I didn’t want to hear it. Any excuse he would have given me would have just made it worse. I shot a hand up to stop his tangent, and demanded, “Don’t, Dad, just — how far’s New Marais?”

Dad’s eyebrows sewed closer together. He had that look, that expression he’d reserve for analyzing people on the stands. “It’s about an hour and a half away.”

“Let’s just go,” I said stiffly, walking off towards the truck. The sooner we got this over with, and the sooner we found a fix for whatever in me was fucked up, the sooner I’d get Dad off of my back. 

Still, I put in my headphones and made sure my music was loud enough that everyone else in the car could hear its reverberation, just to make sure I didn’t have to deal with anything else along the way. 

Brent got to drive us towards New Marais, and not only because he was Dad’s special little Conduit that wasn’t a walking hazard sign; in between choruses in my ears, I could hear Dad and Dr. Sims begin debating on whether or not we would be able to take back roads the rest of the way. “They don’t have cops that can do something about that?” Dad asked from the passengers’ seat. 

Dr. Sims shrugged beside me. “There’s not enough of them. Too many older cops are retiring without any replacements, and those that do replace the old ones…well, there’s a big turnover rate. Criminals and wanna-bees have figured this out and—”

“And now they snipe drivers?” Dad scoffed, amazed that’s where their criminal minds went. 

“Why am I driving, again?” Brent asked sheepishly. 

“Because you’re the only one with built-in armor, and it frees Eugene and I up so we can protect you both. There’s really no other way?” Dad spun in place to ask Dr. Sims. 

Dr. Sims shook his head. “Not until we cross the Lake Bonheur Causeway. It’ll take us into the city center and we can ride the backroads to the reclaimed swampland.”

“Man couldn’t live in a condo,” Dad grumbled, turning to face the front again. 

I took out my headphones and put them away, the clack of their charge box catching Dad’s attention. “Jean, hey,” he started. “We’re—”

“I know,” I cut off. “I heard.”

Something simple changed in his eyes as he looked at me, but he didn’t mention it, instead continuing, “Okay, good. I’m going to need you to get on the floorboard.”

I blinked. “The—Dad—”

“You can’t be in view of any windows,” he cut me off with that aggravating finality in his voice, honed by years of law bullshit. “Eugene will be able to protect you if something happens, but you need to stay low.”

“Stay out of the way, you mean.” I grumbled. 

Not low enough for Dad not to hear. “Stay safe. None of us are outrunning a bullet, but you’re the only one that’s not gonna recover.” The truck did that slight lurch as we went from asphalt to concrete, the start of this infamous Bonheur Causeway lit up in the night by the amber lights screwed to the suspensions above. I remember this bridge from one of Brent’s infodumps; it was one of the longest bridges over water in the country, no land for miles. Just concrete, steel, water, electric roadsigns — and four Conduits that could control them all. 

Not that Dad wanted me to. “Jean.” He commanded, voice firm. “Down. Now.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes and undoing my seatbelt. “Better hope Brent doesn’t crash either,” I snipped. 

“Hey—” Brent started. I didn’t get to hear much else, I was already trying to fit myself in the small space between my seat and Brent’s. 

This was humiliating. I was stored away on the bottom of the truck’s floor like some wine cooler they didn’t want the cops seeing, and I was, what, supposed to just be okay with it? I was shoved next to the plastic bag that held our trash — and right now, felt no better than it. 

The cab of Dad’s truck flashed amber as we passed under lamplights, and Dad rolled down the windows of the truck, letting in this damp and dank smell that was part salt and part rotting egg. The smell definitely was enough to get a reaction from Brent. “Eugh, Dad—” he began to complain. 

“Shh.” Dad commanded immediately. 

I could see Dr. Sims from my spot on the floor — he was really the only thing I could see. He leaned over ever so slightly so he could look past the front seats and out of the windshield to the bridge, eyes scanning from behind the glare of his glasses. His one hand crept to the middle seat, closest to my head, and tensed, like he was preparing to call those angels up any minute now. 

I couldn’t remember how long the bridge was; I was sure if I asked Brent, he’d be able to rattle off a number down to the centimeters, but I didn’t dare break the silence of the truck’s cab. Not even as my legs began to cramp from how I was crouched and the bridge gained some light from more variable-message signs appearing, directing the flow of traffic to different parts of New Marais. “Merge left,” Dad simply said, the click of the turn signal coming on almost immediately. 

“We’re almost off the bridge.” Dr. Sims muttered above me. I didn’t realize he meant it to be a reassurance until his eyes flashed down to look at me. 

Good. The sooner I could get out of this uncomfortable crouch, the better. 

I could see a bit of the sky now from where I was, since we were on the edge of the bridge. I couldn’t really see the stars anymore, something I’d grown accustomed to in Chapman’s ruralness and reinforced by Salmon Bay. It was the dead of night, and I couldn’t wait to get off of the floor and sleep the rest of the way to wherever this guy lived, even if that’d only be another hour. 

But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

The truck hit another crack in the bridge, rocking around a bit with the force. The things in the back bounced around a bit, the ice in Dad’s cup rattled — and, under it all, something clicked. Dr. Sims heard the noise too as it rang around very slightly outside of the windows, warning, “Del—”

He was cut off by the back windshield suddenly shattering, a bullet flying through the space between Dad and Brent and impaling the radio, sending sparks and glass flying around. I shielded my head as glass rained down on me, poking away at my arms as Brent yelled, “Dad!” 

“Just keep driving!” He demanded, unclipping his seatbelt. The window began to roll down as he added. “Steel on, now!”

Dr. Sims’ arms lit up and he spun in place, looking through the shattered window and out to the bridge. “D, we’re being followed!” He warned. 

There was sudden tire screeching, and Brent cursed under his breath before the truck jerked right. “Dad!” He shouted, more urgent this time. 

“Keep going, get off the bridge!”

“Where are you going?” 

I could barely see the bottom of Dad’s feet from where I was as he pulled himself up onto the roof of the truck through the window. It creaked a bit under his weight, a resounding thunk that barely covered up the sound of a handgun cocking. I could feel the vibration from Brent’s hit as he smacked his driver’s side door, the plastic of the cab’s interior being overtaken by rapidly-growing steel, the encasing just finishing its growth as it became dented from bullets. Dr. Sims had a hand out of the gap the shattered windshield left, the blue around his wrists spinning like Doctor Strange gauntlets before pulsing bright and shooting off actual swords towards whoever was behind us. 

I was thrown over onto Dr. Sims’ feet as whoever was on the right of us slammed into the truck in an effort to make it spin out, Brent’s overcorrection throwing me back just as quickly. I went from being on my knees, to my face, to my ass — all in perfect time to see Dad’s form as he fell from on top of the roof. 

“Delsin!” Dr. Sims yelled out. 

Dr. Sims was too distracted; he watched what I assumed had to be Dad’s body as it hit the pavement, concentrating more on that than whoever was behind us now returning fire. He was hit in his right arm, in that meat just below the elbow, the bullet tearing through him entirely and lodging into the back of the passenger side seat. Dr. Sims choked out a couple choice curse words, gripping his arm close and slouching down out of the view of the back windshield. 

“Does anyone see Dad?” Brent demanded from up front before cursing again. The truck jerked around once more as he avoided something — or someone. “Jean, do you see him?”

I shook my head like Brent could see me, panic beginning to settle in my chest as I looked at the bit of sky the broken windshield allowed me to. Where was he? Dr. Sims looked all but useless; his face was going gray as he looked at the wound, and he made no move to sit back up and keep fighting. Could he even do it with an injury like that? There were pieces of tissue hanging out of the hole in his rolled-up sleeve. There was another bullet that blasted past and narrowly missed Brent’s head, taking out the front windshield instead.

I couldn’t stay here and just wait to see who’d recover or die first. I couldn’t stay on this dirty and glass-covered floorboard waiting to see what happened to Dad. I had to do something. 

There was a stint I went through in Sophomore year, where action movies were my everything. I had just gotten into the idea of comic writing, and wanted something thrilling. Something exciting, something that’d catch an audience’s attention enough that they’d ditch the Valentine Crime Noirs and maybe I could bring an interest back to the storytelling form. Dad was all for it; it gave him the chance to introduce me to some of his favorite movies, and while some of them absolutely sucked, there was one that I adored watching with him again and again: John Wick. This guy had reached his limit after everything was taken from him, and God, the fight scenes — they were something else entirely. Not just action packed and exhilarating, but accurate. 

It was there that I learned a bullet is useless in water so long as you’ve got a few feet between yourself and the gun. That’s all I needed to give us — a few feet of water. 

I pushed up from the floorboard and laid my hand on the seat, a nice shard of glass immediately introducing itself into my palm through the space in my cast. I didn’t let that stop me, nor when Dr. Sims seemed to try to make some sound of objection through his sharp gasps; I flitted through the shattered window on my own wave of water, landing atop someone’s bag and nearly tripping as I resolidified. 

There were two trucks, one directly beside us and swerving to try and push us into the guardrail of the bridge, another behind with at least four masked people in them. All armed. 

No Dad. He was nowhere to be seen. 

“Jean, what the fuck are you doing?” Brent yelled from the truck. 

I steadied myself and rose, trying my best to look at the hood of the car behind us without worrying about the fact that everyone in it looked ready to mow me down with their weapons if given the chance. I definitely was giving them plenty. Water pushed down from my shoulders and began to swirl around my forearms as I let that tenseness push into my chest, a hold binding my ribs closer and closer until I pushed out and the pressure burst away with it. 

A halo of water expanded quickly, this giant forcefield of wet that washed over me and everything else in the back of the truck, pushing over its roof and all the way to the front and farther still. I extended my arms from in front of me to beside me, holding them as steady as I could as I built more into the bubbling shield, trying to pile on enough to make it an actual wall and not just a barrier. 

It felt…different, this time. Something about pushing around this much water…it didn’t feel like it used to. There was more strain to it, an ache in my shoulders even though I knew, without a doubt, I didn’t need to drain. The truck on our left inched closer still, tried to push past that barrier I was making and force its way into my little bubble, and a hole opened up in the siding Brent had built so he could stick his hand our and shoot a volley of steel spheres, the metal rusting the moment they hit my water and exploding upon impact with the highway robbers’ car. The windows shattered with the hit, causing the truck to swerve away with a squeal of the tires. 

Even with the swirls of the swell I tried to keep the water clear enough to see through. I wasn’t exactly wanting Brent to drive the truck straight into a median barrier, after all. But it left things clear enough for me to see the muzzle of an assault rifle settle on the center console of the truck behind us. I was suddenly back in that alley somehow, a gun pointed at my forehead, at my family, the threat that tore so much apart in the blink of an eye. 

I was not going to be the damsel in distress this time. 

I moved my right hand in front of me, pushing more water into the barrier between us and the truck following close behind just as their gun let off a volley of bullets, shattering the windscreen on the front of their truck and sending a good dozen bullets straight for me. 

The first three managed to make it through the water, each narrowly missing me — one even snagged the flannel I had tied around my waist, shredding a hole through the fabric. But as the water caught up with my intentions and became denser, the other bullets stuttered to a stop in their shots, wavering in the water before slowly falling away and onto the road. 

There was a sudden shift in the shadows, a flash in the darkness between street lamps, and Dad was on the roof of their truck, smoke dissipating from his form. He gripped the barrel of the gun sticking out of the truck and pushed some sort of heat into it from his blackened hand, the barrel going red-hot before he bent it to a ninety degree angle. The people in the truck reacted to his presence, shouting, one lifting another gun, but it didn’t stop Dad; he turned back into a plume of smoke and darted into the truck from its shattered windscreen. 

I could only describe what happened next as a movie scene; Dad disappeared and reappeared again and again, choking out someone in the backseat as a cloud of smoke, solidifying to kick the other one in the side of the jaw. He was gone again and suddenly in the front, elbowing the person in the passenger’s seat before grabbing the steering wheel and trying to fight it away from the driver. 

The driver gave him a hard time, managing to land a headbutt that sent Dad reeling back and prompted him to turn to smoke. The embers and ash rushed out of a window and to the top of the vehicle, resettling as Dad on the roof again. 

The smoke didn’t dissipate from him; it stayed close, swirling around him like a twister, pulling in as he stayed crouched, the ash around his arm turning bright red as it shifted to literal fire. Could he control fire? 

The guys on our left swerved suddenly, and pushed into the side of Dad’s truck, throwing me off balance — and making the water shield around us disappear. I had to drop fast in order to not be thrown out of the car, something roughly popping in my side and making me cry out in pain. 

“Jean, get back in the truck!” Brent demanded somewhere behind me. The guys beside us had their own guns, and an entire clip was emptied just over my head. I ducked low, covering my head with my arms, barely able to see Dad through the gaps between them.

He jumped, a plume of ash and red-hot embers as he shot to the sky like rockets, all burning fuel and smog. He was nearly touching the peak of the bridge’s suspension arch when he formed from the ash, suspended in midair for only a moment before turning in the sky, aiming for the truck behind us, and shooting down like a missile, heat on the tail of his form. 

There was this brief half-second of calm that came in the pause of the guy in the truck beside us reloading his gun that gave me the chance to turn into a small wave and flit back into the truck, landing on the cushion of the back seat — and sorta on Dr. Sims’ leg. “Shit, sorry,” I apologized immediately. 

He didn’t care, he wasn’t even paying attention; he was looking out of the back window at Dad’s form as it zeroed in on the hood of the trunk behind us, yelling, “Hold on to something!” before blue light took over his arms. 

I couldn’t really keep track of what happened next. 

Dad slammed into the hood of the truck behind us, his body sinking away into smoke and ash the moment it touched the gloss of the truck. Smoke coupled and pushed out as the truck’s front pushed down into the street under it, axel snapping away. Then there was blue, a wall of hard light as that smoke billowed outward in all directions, a blast force behind it. 

The back of the truck lifted, the smoke hitting the near-opaque wall and pushing around it. Unfortunately, this also pushed the truck around, and before I knew it, I was thrown into the door as it flipped on its side, the steel on it barely doing anything to cushion me. My vision blacked out and I wasn’t sure if that was from the smoke, the rolling, or simply from me. 

The truck skidded some ways before it stopped, Dr. Sims only kept from landing on me by the seat belt around his body. There was no sound outside of the truck. All I could see past the window was the remains of smoke as it dissipated in the air, and smelt nothing but burnt rubber and fumes. I let my head settle, sucking in a shaken breath and coughing out the exhale, lungs screaming for air that didn’t burn. Brent was visible from where I was, head leaned against the steel wall at his side, unmoving and unsteeled. “Brent?” I coughed. 

He didn’t move. 

[pekodayz]

uhhh............. ososan oc infodump but i laser u after u finish reading bc i am... out my comfort zone. vulnerable to everything (cries) I HATE BEING SELF CONSCIOUS . plz... read under the cut.. haha.

So I made three in one go, bc I wanted to have a trio...badly. They were initially just my basic ocs, but I realized it would be funny to change them and put them in hell. (stripped of their powers and forced to be human ??!!) Their og clothes were good (they're cute ashell but I NEEDED them to be in casual clothing). So I was thinking about ososan, then my brain clicked. After like 3 weeks of me losing files, getting petrified. drawing something else to cope, and staring at other ppls stuff... I came up with those designs. I AM SHY PLEASE FORGIVE ME and the grammar idk it's 3am...and im a bit nervous

So there's Aini (she/her..5'2) . "what the hell is that "fufufu~" for??" "..I-It's my signature laugh..shut up..". She has a complex where she thinks she's better than everyone else. Cocky. She's a (squints) a chunibyo...and a tsun___.She finds this world boring and a waste of time. She believes that she is a demon, and that she is surrounded by petty humans. Don't mind her, she's harmless. Unless she gets like flustered, then she pulls out a gun and gets trigger happy. (misses every time). She does know deep down, that she's playing a delusion...but she immediately removes that thought once she spots an unsuspecting victim. I think she just likes making rivals. She does get emotional and will break her act when she is at her most vulnerable state. It's rare, but it happens. She is a walking anime stereotype.

Then there's Molly (she/they..5'7). They are a sweetheart...most of the time. She's a bit of a pushover at times, but she does have another side. They care for their friends very, very much. She's the tallest of the three. Why does she always look afraid? Like they just saw a ghost...what...? Nothing is there, everything is a-okay. She lovesssss anything sweet. They get fraps...every, single, day. They can't help but drop an unusual amount of money on a sweet treat. She shares with Aini and Usiuii, they both r foreva grateful for her kindness.

Usiuii. (she/her..5'3). Stoic. Stop staring at me...why is she getting closer?? I don't know what's going on in her head, but she has some sinister vibe that travels with her every step. (jk she just wants to say hi :3!!!!) ...okay she does have some slightly evil tendencies. Keeps Aini in check by slamming her in the head with her bass. (just imagine Usiuii holding it like a bat and aiming for Aini's legs) She has a shark-toothed smiley face, wishes she can eat gum properly. High pain tolerance. She has a side gig. It's suspicious. If you do find her at that gig, do not approach her. She will spiral if she sees anyone she knows at this place, and will chase you down.

They all love pachinko. Molly thinks it's like Vegas, so she drags Aini and Usiuii with them. Aini loses the most, Usiuii is in the middle, Molly wins the most. Aini goes into a frenzy and starts to violently shake the machine, trying to force those damn silver balls to start pouring out. In the midst of her frenzy, Aini accidentally smacks Usiuii in the face. They both start fighting, looking like idiots. Molly gets her cash and pulls both of them by the collars with a disturbing look. They leave. Aini is quietly sobbing. Usiuii is counting Molly's winnings. Molly is staring at the sunset while pulling the two. (fucking idiots: she thinks while giving them a warm smile)

As for jobs: Molly works in the corporate world. She hates it...but alas, it pays well; they're just gonna have to force a smile and keep going. Every waking moment, her boss keeps giving them more work to do. Pushing her around...Molly silently gets angrier by the day. They are testing me, she smiles through the pain.

Usiuii and Aini work in a convenience store. They both love it, they can be as stupid as they want to be. Huhuhu!~ Pathetic humans in need of MY service?? Hmph. I SUPPOSE I can help you. "....isn't that your job." ".....uh....y-yeah....." (i guess u can imagine Aini leaning over the counter when a customer is about to pay...saying that...plz stop aini, you're being bizarre.) Usiuii gets realllyyyy close and welcomes anyone who comes in, she finds their reactions funny. Takes 15 steps to you: WELCOME...!~ (she gives them a wide smile, then she bursts into laughter)

The three of them would befriend Chibita. ummm bc they pay their tab as soon as they finish. And they love. love eating his oden. like it was a gift sent from the heavens. I guess they would also rant to him about their lives.

Aini thinks the matsus are figments, like how are there that many copies of one person...just there? (this is just her trying to make life a bit more interesting..don't try and school her on sextuplets, she will tune you out. ("I AM NOT A FOOL! I KNOW THEY'RE REAL, IDIOT. DON'T RUIN THIS FOR ME..." teary-eyed) Molly tries to believe they r all good citizens, blah blah blah... sees them in action. ....immediate mood change.

I think the 3 would befriend totty first....bc uh...let's just assume he still works at the cafe, okay? since molly is always getting frappes and stuff. She eventually makes small talk with totty, and yknow yay a friend!11!! They rant to him a lot, considers him a dear friend.

Ummm maybe aini would "befriend" oso at some point but like its a rivalry thing idk. it's funny. to me.. It would prob be over pachinko, aini won for the first time and she rubs it in his face. he wins, he rubs it in her face hahaha (stares at wall) .they find each other slightly annoying, but good company. i think aini would be playing one day, and stumble upon him being there..then stuff insues, omg yay friend. they both knock each other out. idk they prob get drunk one night and kiss but its like ewww cooties!!11!1 then they stare at each other. silence. "....that was gay." "....pardon?" (slams head on counter)

Usiuii hmm would be fwiends with choro bc she finds him funny .,,,looking. got em yeah. okay..fine jk they both love idols. but Usiuii does NOT want anyone to know. she begs choro not to tell a soul, threatening to take his if he dares. usiuii...what. she's supposed to be the cool one, not the one who goes bonkers over idols. but..yknow. they both fangirl over stuffz yeah...

WHAT IS ROMANCE. I DONT KNOW. (I fold on real-time romance…expect goofy shit instead. like in the anime’s!!!1!!)

umm yyahhh im exhausted. thank you for reading. i will work on their ref sheets very soon!!!!`` lhahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha oc brainrot starts......when i wake up in the morning . line up -> infodump -> ref

EDIT: i add stuff as i lay here in bed (steam comes out of head)

They all drink. but in moderation…maybe. then they beat the shit out of _____________ ____________ group attack i think. gag. haha (puts finger down)

who would get drunk (first to last): aini usiuii molly

Molly has warm hands, but when she gets nervous, they have the tendency to fidget them together a bit. Then they catch fire. oh no…..

Usiuii keeps putting her hand in the oden, to take a bite she gets yelled at every time. She says she feels no pain, therefore it’s gonna be okay guys. (she smirks, chibita chucks a hot piece at her)

Aini sometimes wears those anime head wing thingys for fun. but uhhh she plays the role. they’re not real, stop wearing them on the job. (Someone just roleplay with her for a few minutes. Then she won’t have to be so cruel with her words)

I think molly is like retsuko (yknow from aggretsuko) since their job pisses them off. she breaks, and goes on a long winded rant, full of evil. Then it wears off, and she’s all like “oh my god??!! im sososoosossoos sorry..!” then they look like they killed someone. plz forgive her.

okay they love u very much, but they might kill u in a triple attack (hearto)

[liushen-stan]

Liushen Week

(Late) Day 4: Energy/ Tied Up. Or, a rewrite of Shen Yuan saving Liu Qingge in the Lingxi Caves.

Read it under the cut or in AO3.

-

'Why me?!'

Shen Yuan, now in the body of the infamous scum villain Shen Qingqiu, couldn't believe his luck. First, he was stuck with this shit role, and now that he just wanted a few months to strengthen himself to prepare for the future, he was forced to fight! And not one easy level 1 monster or minion, no, but the boss level Bai Zhan War God himself! Who seemed to have a buff called 'qi deviation'! He knew this happened in the story, but why did it have to happen now?

“Liu Qingge, snap out of it!” He shouted as he dodged the crazed Peak Lord. As every time he'd tried, his answer was a wild swing from Cheng Luan which he hastily avoided, thanking all the gods for Shen Qingqiu's reflexes.

It was clear that he couldn't defeat the Liu Qingge in a fair fight, so he didn't even consider it. Mind going a mile a minute, he decided that desperate times needed desperate measures. And so, using the first opening he saw, he struck Liu Qingge's chest with a burst of spiritual energy, sending the man flying to the other side. Swiftly, Shen Yuan ran towards the prone body, who had thankfully dropped his sword-

He shouldn't have underestimated him. Liu Qingge's eyes opened and, in a move that looked more instinctive than anything, took a sharp rock that happened to lay next to him and stabbed it in his left side. The pain nearly made him lose his grip on Liu Qingge but, with gritted teeth, Shen Yuan endured. Thankfully the bust seemed to have burnt away most of the corrupted spiritual energy, and now the Bai Zhan Peak Lord's depleted body was something he could handle.

“Could you just stay still, I'm trying to help you here!” He exclaimed as he tried in vain to take off Liu Qingge's upper robes to have access to his chest, but the man, though weak, still had enough energy to struggle and try to hit him with flying limbs. Fed up, Shen Yuan ripped a strip from his robes (a cultivator's strength was no joke!) and tied Liu Qingge's arms up to a convenient nearby rock.

That took care of one set of limbs, but what to do to avoid the kicks...? Suddenly, an idea occurred to him, and he blushed slightly, but seeing no other option he steeled himself and-

Sat on Liu Qingge's lap, effectively pinning the man down.

“This is just to save you,” he told the struggling man sternly as he finally peeled away the robes and placed his palms on his (warm broad) chest, “so you can't kill me later, okay?”

'Though this position is a bit...'

The sight of Liu Qingge, who even like this was a peerless beauty, tied up and pinned by Shen Yuan's body was- Shaking his head to dispel the sudden thoughts (where did that come from?), he took a deep breath to center himself and began to gently, as carefully as he could, supply a steady stream of qi into Liu Qingge's meridians, untangling them little by little.

Inwardly, Shen Yuan sighed.

This was going to take a while.

-

The first thing Liu Qingge felt when he opened his eyes was warmth. A gentle, warm stream moved through his meridians, bringing him a slow relief from the second sensation he became aware of: the all-encompassing pain in his body.

Slowly, his mind muddled, he became aware of a third sensation: a warm weight in his legs. Opening his eyes with great effort, it took a few blinks for what he was seeing to focus, and then a few more to process it because-

Shen Qingqiu. Seated on his legs, his hands on his bare chest, those deep green eyes staring at it with a strange intensity.

Liu Qingge recoiled.

“Shen Qingqiu! You- what-” He moved to shove him away, but to his horror he found his hands bound above his head, and his body too weak to do something about it.

“Stop moving,” came the command from the man above him. “This is delicate enough without you disturbing my concentration.”

“What are you-”

“Trying to save your life.”

That made Liu Qingge pause, even if it was due to incredulity. Did Shen Qingqiu think he was going to fall for that?

But then, blurry memories started to appear in his mind. Of him meditating, noticing something was wrong too late to do anything, his mind clouding as his meridians started to scream in pain...

A voice. Flashes of green robes fluttering away from the glare of his sword. A sudden torrent of energy impacting on his chest. A splash of blood.

“I... had a qi deviation,” Liu Qingge murmured, his eyes on the bleeding wound on Shen Qingqiu's side. Which he'd caused.

“En.”

“You're... trying to save me?”

“Obviously.”

“Hm.” He wasn't lying. The qi Shen Qingqiu was supplying him with was gentle, smoothing his meridians mangled by the qi deviation. Not knowing what else to say, and slightly ashamed of having suspected Shen Qingqiu of trying to kill him (though not regretful, his caution was justified as the man had tried to kill him in the past), Liu Qingge tried to stay still and let the man work, through a few minutes later he couldn't help but as to be untied as his arms were starting to feel numb.

“I'm almost finished,” was the answer he got. Liu Qingge huffed but didn't protest anymore.

It was... strange, to be so vulnerable with someone he didn't trust. His body, though still, was tense, prepared to defend himself the second the man above him made any foul move. Though with his body feeling as weak as a kitten, he knew that, realistically, there wasn't much he could do, and that only made him tense even more.

“Whatever you're thinking about, stop. You're making this difficult.” Liu Qingge glared, and Shen Qingqiu seemed to contemplate him for a few seconds before letting out a sigh.

“I'm not going to do anything to you,” he stated. “I would swear, but you don't trust my word, do you?” Qingge's glare was more than enough answer. “Then trust this: if I came out of here and you did not, everyone would suspect me of murder. And I'm not stupid enough to put myself in that position, especially since our martial siblings already dislike me. Can you trust that?”

The answer was yes. Liu Qingge could trust Shen Qingqiu to act in his own self-interest, and as he had said, if he walked out and Liu Qingge was found dead, everyone would know who would have been the culprit, so it was in his best interest to keep Qingge alive.

Now assured, Liu Qingge let himself relax slightly, enduring the tense silence that seemed to go on forever before finally, Shen Qingqiu took his hands from his chest.

“I did everything I could,” he said, eyes cold. “You should go to Mu-shidi-” he stopped and the look in his eyes changed... was that concern? “You're bleeding.”

Without moving from where he sat, Shen Qingqiu leaned forward, and in front of Liu Qingge's astonished gaze, he brushed a gentle hand through his head, though the jolt of pain he felt told him why Shen Qingqiu had done that.

“I will be fine,” he grunted.

“Head wounds can be dangerous, even to cultivators. Here, let me check there aren't anymore.”

And this was the moment Liu Qingge started to think this was all a hallucination caused by his qi deviation. Because Shen Qingqiu's eyes, while still intense, softened somehow as he carded through his hair, and Liu Qingge... didn't know how he felt.

It was... strange. With the assurance that Shen Qingqiu wasn't going to hurt him, his guard had lowered, and now Liu Qingge didn't know how to react to the sudden awareness of his body. The soft cloth around his wrists, the warm weight pinning him, the focused gaze, and the gentle hands carding through his hair, making his shiver slightly every time they brushed against his scalp... all these sensations mixed together and it was... it was...

Their gazes met, and Shen Qingqiu must've realized what position they were in, because he suddenly jumped away and off Liu Qingge with- was that a blush?!

“It seems there aren't any more wounds,” Shen Qingqiu said after clearing his throat a few times, and yes that was definitely a blush staining his cheeks a soft shade of red. He then untied Liu Qingge, rubbing his wrists absentmindedly for a few seconds before snatching his hands away as if burnt.

“Well, as this master said earlier, I recommend Liu-shidi to go to Mu Qingfan for treatment,” and the words that followed, about wanting to forget the past and for their relationship to improve from now on made Liu Qingge even more sure this was a hallucination. And then, after telling him he would only be a few caves away in case he needed assistance, the man finally left, leaving a bewildered Liu Qingge staring for a few minutes at the entrance of the cave, trying to reconcile reality with everything that had just happened.

[twilightmalachite]

Altered - Epilogue 6

Author: Akira

Characters: Natsume, Wataru

Translator: Mika Enstars

"That’s all there is to iT. You compared the two scripts and chose the better oNE, Niisan."

Season: Winter

Location: OO Stage (Altered)

⚠️ This is an import from a unproofed Twitter Livetweet!

Wataru: That day, I stood on the stage because it was what I desired.

A stage that made me shine as the greatest villain.

And I did so whilst taking no chances with the proposal my cute “littlest brother”, who admired me as his mentor, presented to me.

I was to choose a script that day.

Between a script where I fight against fine and is defeated as a villain and a script where the Five Eccentrics work together to defeat fine in a huge comeback.

And I chose the former.

Does that need to be explained why, Natsume-kun?

Natsume: …At that tiME, I lost years off my life desperately working to create a plan for a comebaCK. I was stubboRN, and there was nothing else I could dO.

As a way to heal my own huRT, I wanted thEM—student council to taste the same feelings of misery that we hAD.

I wrote that script out of desperatiON.

Natsume: BuT, you were nothing but a performer back thEN, Wataru-niisan.

To the worLD, I was nothing but a half-baked high schoolER, but you were a professional worth recognitiON.

So it doesn’t matter how hard the author workED. You judged the performance of the script calmly and impartially as a performER.

And you chose the stage on which you would staND.

That’s all there is to iT. You compared the two scripts and chose the better oNE, Niisan.

At that time, my script was a pipe dream that wouldn’t work in realiTY.

It would’ve been a failure no matter whAT.

The script didn’t take into account the enemy nor those around uS. It assumed my niisans felt the same wAY, it was all written as convenient for mE.

If the Five Eccentrics teamed uP, there’d be no way we could lose to the student councIL… An easy victoRY, and those around uS—everyone would celebrate the resuLT.

Everyone would celebrate our victory and our glory, and we’d have a bright road ahead.

As if that would have even happenED, thouGH.

All I had done at that time was with only myself in miND.

Wataru: Isn't that what makes us the Five Eccentrics?

Natsume: I suppoSE. On the other haND, I had been looking down on those around mE.

I was stupID, incompeteNT, and an idiOT.

Yet I felt discontent because I was being scornED, looked down upON, and belittled as a problem child by those around mE.

Natsume: “Each and every one of these idiotic snobs should know better to speak up against us geniusES. I’ll show yOU. LoOK, this is what should happen to mere ordinary peopLE—”

“If you are so incompeteNT, then you should stay incompetENT. Just serve and admire uS, the great Five Eccentrics, insteAD.

Even if it weren’t written as suCH, my script from back then thoroughly reflected that mindsET.

It was an egotistical and unpleasant scriPT.

That is why you didn’t accept iT, Niisan.

I understand that nOW.

Wataru: Egotistical? But isn’t that wonderful!

That’s what makes us the Five Eccentrics! I know I am repeating myself, but we each had our very own way of doing things back then!

Natsume-kun tried to press a script on us to relieve his own despair. I did not accept it, so I could stand on the stage the way I wanted to.

Rei, Shu, and Kanata too. We all acted on our own will.

Nobody forced us to do it. We thought for ourselves, and the futures we wanted.

Natsume: And I was not chosEN. My script at the time was noT.

Wataru: You had mentioned the script’s shortcomings earlier yourself, Natsume-kun, but it was the timing that was wrong in the first place.

We were exhausted, then. All the while beginning a new life in the wake of our defeat.

Valkyrie was disintegrating in mid-air, and Shu was searching around for new art in anguish.

Kanata too found an ideal through an incident he experienced. One other than being God, which he had always been trying to embody.

And Rei also has stripped what he had been clad in for so long that he had forgotten how to take it off, and has begun from scratch—Or rather, has begun discovering his new identity from zero.[1]

We were trying to become stronger through our defeat.

As geniuses who had only won up until then, it was an important breakthrough, one we had never experienced before!

It was an opportunity to bring out a new, more lovable me!

Natsume-kun. You and the pipe dream you drew up, would ruin such a new encounter—

And frankly, it was also a disagreeable script that would force us to return back to “who we were before” again, which we had gotten sick and tired of.

It was like meeting and moving in with the love of your life, enamored, only to have your parents grab you by the scruff of your neck and slam you back into their house.

Natsume: That metaphor just makes it more difficult to understaND.

AnywaYS, that’s enouGH. I’ve figured that out alreaDY. You don’t have to keep telling me just how bad my script wAS.

If the person I’m speaking to doesn’t wish to understaND, then no amount of careful explanation will get through to thEM.

If that’s the caSE, then I guess there’s no point in explaining to you in detaIL.

People believe only what they want to belieVE, after aLL.

Wataru: You sound like Eichi saying something like that.

Natsume: He said that when you hold a grudge aginst an enemy, you think about them so much that the boundary between you and they will blur... We might have assimilated a bIT.

Natsume: « Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process, he does not become a monster. »

In order to defeat us, the Five Eccentrics, Tenshouin Eichi became a monster himself.

I’m similar to hiM. UnknowingLY, I’m going down the same path as he dID.

← prev | story directory | next →

Rei’s name (零) means “zero” in Japanese.

[dadddybangtan]

Suck Torture | 22

Back Table of Contents Next

cw: slight gore, mentions of statutory r*pe/incest, angry beomgyu, mentions of non consensual situations, mentions of childbirth

word count: 1.7k

a.n. this chapter fucks me up bro.. and this is the final beomgyu centered chapter of this book <3

Spending the night at Hyunjin's house wasn't my plan at all. I didn't feel comfortable staying there, but at least I had Taehyun. I secretly wished he hadn't been so nice to Hyunjin, picking out his clothes and immediately admitting that he was right about us staying. He could've at least pretended to be on my side.

The guest room Hyunjin directed us to was quiet and decorated similarly to his. It was dark with crimson accents and curtained windows. Only the bed was a bit smaller, probably a queen instead of a king. I didn't complain. It was bigger than Taehyun's bed and the couch in our living room.

"Beomgyu," Taehyun said, staying at the closed door and watching me pace, "Are you- okay?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You just seem really upset and agitated."

"I am."

Taehyun swallowed hard, crossing his arms over his chest before saying, "It's making it hard to be next to you when you're so worked up."

"I'm sorry, but can you blame me? I don't wanna be in the same house with the person who turned me for longer than I have to. And I can't go home because his fucking brother is breaking the spell and if I go out at night, they'll find me and do whatever the fuck they do with vampires they find."

"I just think if you really loved Hyunjin," He sighed, collecting his thoughts, "You'd be a little more understanding of why he turned you."

"And if you really loved me, you'd understand how violated that makes me feel."

"Don't you realize that everything he's ever done has been to protect you?" He yelled.

I'd never really heard him raise his voice at me that way until then. It caught me off guard, totally silencing me and freezing me in place.

"Of course I know that," I breathed out, finally sitting on the bed, "I just wish he would've asked me before literally stripping me of my humanity."

Taehyun's eyes became intense and his heart rate slowed down a bit.

"Would you have said 'yes?'"

That was a question I didn't know the answer to. On one hand, the human experience is meant to be lived by those born to do so. Right? On the other hand, humanity has little rewards.

That's not to say that I thought Hyunjin's life was better than mine because he was a vampire. I thought it was better than mine because he was rich. But I quickly learned that he had problems too. Complicated, generational, inescapable problems. Unlike mine, that were as simple as bigotry and homelessness. Both of which were resolved rather conveniently with me running away and finding a new home in the same day.

The more complex problems, like losing a friend to murder and someone trying to murder me as well, weren't present until vampires came into my life.

"I don't know," I answered honestly, "Either way, it really sucks to be alive."

Three hard knocks were heard on the door, making Taehyun jump in shock. He turned around and opened the door.

"Hi," Hyunjin's mother said softly, "Would you two like to come down for dinner? We're having gore infused noodles and pork."

"No." I said sternly.

I didn't want to be a vampire nor did I want to eat like one. And I really didn't want to sit near Hyunjin at a dinner table. I would rather have starved.

Taehyun whipped his head to me, pulling his eyebrows together in frustration.

"Please," She continued, "I lost my family and we have a lot of room down there. Please, it's just dinner."

"We'd love to." Taehyun said.

"Thanks, love... We'll see you downstairs in a quarter to six."

Taehyun softly closed the door.

"Would you stop acting like a child?" He scorned, "If you're gonna be this bitter and stubborn, I'll find another guest room."

"I can be bitter and stubborn all I want."

"Then that's a sad life you're gonna live, Beomgyu," He said coldly, "A long, sad life."

My stomach was growling and I struggled to admit that the food in front of me looked delicious. Hyunjin's mother ate so gracefully at the head of the tae that it made it look even more appealing. Across from me was Hyunjin, who wasn't eating at all, and next to me was Taehyun, who was eating just fine. So why was I having such a hard time?

It wasn't a hard question to answer. I was fighting the instincts that were recently forced upon me.

"Is it okay, Taehyun," Hyunjin's mom asked politely, "I asked the chef to make yours a little less gory."

"I can tell, thank you. It's great."

I huffed at his demeanor. It annoyed me how nice he was acting.

"Hyunjin, just take a bite," She whispered, "It'll help with the... It'll help you feel better. You too, Beomgyu."

"Can I have what Taehyun is having?"

"As a newly turned vampire, it's normal to–."

"Normal? You think you're normal?"

"Don't interrupt me," She said, voice gaining power and assertion, "And don't disrespect my kind. Many people don't know this, but I was a human before my husband turned me. I remember having trouble adjusting to this lifestyle too. But after thousands of years and three beautiful kids, I claim it proudly. There's nothing else I'd rather be."

"Father turned you?" Hyunjin asked quietly.

It didn't surprise me that he never knew. Their family seemed to keep a lot of secrets from each other.

"Yes. He married me as a human. And I wanted to have his kids. But I would've died if I tried to birth twin dhampirs. So..." She paused, silently recalling the memory, "He turned me. And I love him for that."

"Your story sounds a lot more romantic than mine," I muttered, "More consensual too."

Hyunjin eyed me. Don't tell her.

"What do you mean by more consensual?"

"Hyunjin turned me without asking me."

"Hyunjin?"

"Yeah and had the audacity to be surprised when I was upset."

"I did it to protect you."

"I'd rather die tomorrow than live the way you live." My voice echoed off of the walls.

"How could you do this, Hyunjin," She cried, "How could you be so selfish?"

"I-I'm sorry."

"You don't understand. That's against the laws of the treaty."

"The treaty said not to kill humans, that's it."

"Fine print, Hyunjin. You cannot turn a human without their consent," She yelled, "What is wrong with the men in this family? The spell will be completely broken any day now and it's all our family's fault... Pack your bags. We're leaving and going into hiding tomorrow."

Hyunjin's face went even paler, shame and guilt finally catching up to him.

"And, Beomgyu, on behalf of my son, I sincerely apologize." She said, beginning to stand up and leave.

"Since you're apologizing for your sons, I should let you know that your other son, Niki, killed our friend on Christmas."

"My deepest apologies," She stammered, "For the trauma my family has cause you and your friend. I promise this is the last you'll see of us."

She walked away quietly, leaving Hyunjin and Taehyun speechless.

"Do you see why I was so upset now," I asked Taehyun, but all he could do was stare at Hyunjin, "Do you?"

"Beomgyu, my love–."

"Don't you dare say that to me now."

"I know you're upset, but don't take it out on Taehyun," He said, "It hurts enough for you to hate me, but I can't watch you hate him too, he did nothing wrong."

"God, Hyunjin, I don't hate you." I admitted weakly.

"You don't?"

"No," I said, tears welling up in my eyes, "I love you. I hate what you did... And now you're leaving me like this. In a body I don't understand. Forever."

"Come with me. Both of you, come with me. Create a new family with me, build a new treaty with us."

"I want to. And I want to because I love you, but," A single tear traced down my cheek, "I can't. I don't trust you."

I grabbed the fork and the plate and stood up to leave.

"I'm really sorry, Beomgyu. But I'm grateful that I can go into hiding again knowing that you love me."

I left without another word and Taehyun followed me to the guest room. I sat at the desk on the far end of the room. I looked at the gore infused dish in front of me. My mouth watered involuntarily. My body wanted it more than my brain did, but I fought it.

"Beomgyu," Taehyun said from the bed, "I know what it's like to love someone you can't trust. And what it's like to have something taken from you without your permission..."

"What do you mean?" I asked without having the heart to look at him. I wanted him to tell me without me reading him.

"My mom did some fucked up things to keep custody over my sister and I after the divorce," He grumbled, "Mom always get a leg up, but she knew my dad had enough reasons to take us. Enough to take to court... So she planted bruises on me to frame my dad. I haven't seen him since I was thirteen."

"Fuck." I whispered to myself, closing my eyes and holding back more tears.

"And when she won, she used me. Every other day until she died of an overdose."

"She used you?"

"She took my virginity."

Suddenly I couldn't breathe. And the smell of the food became foul. I turned around to look at him, surprised to see him so collected and confident. If I were retelling that, I would've broken down.

"T-Taehyun."

"So, I'm sorry I defended Hyunjin... I just wish someone could've protected me like that. Even if it was something as drastic and permanent as turning me into a vampire."

"I have a question that might be a little invasive."

"Okay."

"Is that why you don't have sex with me?"

His face remained expressionless as he nodded his head. I finally understood and it filled my body with overwhelming passion. And the powers I possessed had finally resonated with me. Hyunjin would be leaving, so he wouldn't be protecting me anymore. He cursed me to protect myself. But he blessed me to protect Taehyun.

"I'm sorry, Taehyun," I choked, meeting him on the bed and holding him in my chest, "When I get the chance to protect you, I will. I promise I will."

[horta-in-charge]

Content Warning: Contains 18+ content MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, Spoilers for Star Trek Deep Space Nine S7, references to my earlier one-shot called Rainbow Rider, Weyoun 6 is alive, mentions of inadequacy, Klingons, trauma, death, medical content, Dr. Pulaski, possible Librarians references (no need to watch the show to understand), Sisko being (nearly) at his wit's end, swearing.

Author's Note: I did try to list everything I could for warnings, if I missed something please let me know. This is much shorter than the others, only 5 pages, there's worldbuilding for my OC, some mentions of Klingon OC's, in space six degrees of separation is still valid. This is my first time writing in a while, so it's not my best, but I think it's okay. The telepathic communication isn't marked with anything special, it's just italicized. Other than at the beginning, all italization is her private thoughts. I have a lot of worldbuilding I haven't been putting anywhere but my own head, but I really do intend to put it somewhere. Dr. Pulaski is one of those things, so she does get mentioned. Once again, I am stealing one of @deepspacedukat 's gifs. If I use a gif and you would like it removed, please tell me.

X Minus 1

Dad?

Telepathic communication required no booking time on subspace which was highly convenient. Conveniency comes with a cost however, and in this case, it was more than sleep. The Breen had attacked Earth and Starfleet Headquarters. 

We are safe. We lost no one. How much comfort was it to know none of their own had been lost when there were so many families who could not say the same. Hereford wants to recall you from Starfleet service. Would it be a willing recall was the unstated question. 

Tell them to contact Starfleet Medical immediately, but do not expect me to be awake until 1000 hours station time. Could this be luck? To go home now after feeling so unneeded? Unwanted? Useless? Perhaps in the morning she could say, but now, she was too tired to think and too tired to sleep; that did not prevent her from closing her eyes and lying quietly during the artificial night.

How usual the morning routine felt in the wake of so much death. Then again, when had her morning routine not been accompanied by the knowledge that new casualty reports would be displayed in the ward room? It seemed so long ago. Food still had taste, her Hereford uniform still fit snugly, but now she had no need to wear the Starfleet uniform over it. Freedom was reading a data PADD and knowing that there would be few more she needed to look at before she was home. Before she was working at Hereford again and never needed to look at one. She ran her fingers over the combadge resting in her palm, PADD resting in the other, and left her quarters. 

Ops was a lovely place. It was like walking into a sales booth at a horrible, off-market replica of an opera house, except the staff didn’t have matching uniforms and those stupid, paper boat-looking hats. They didn’t bat an eyelash at her, but then she was still technically off-duty. Permanently off-duty. The doors to Sisko’s office made that soft air compressor sound and slid open, revealing the beleaguered Captain. He will need to deal with more than this today. We are losing terribly. I hope he doesn’t put up a fight about this. 

“Captain, I’ve come to deliver my resignation and my badge.” He sat in the chair facing the window, looking out at the stars. The silence became intense quickly, as it was prone to do in the presence of any commanding officer. This silence was deeper than any other.

“Doctor, under the circumstances, I wish I could decline it.” She walked up to his desk and set both the PADD and combadge down on it, as he turned around slowly and got out of his chair. “Stay. The station needs you. Starfleet needs you.”

“If I stay Hereford will strip my medical degree. They have that right.” Her tone was flat and low, stating facts the Captain already knew.

“Starfleet Medical will recertify you. They only need a signature.”

“You expect me to sign away everything I’ve worked for, for a measly holocertificate? So that I can practice medicine for Starfleet? So I can stay here, and work swing shift? The worst of all? What do I do all day but paperwork for other doctors or lab tests? Do you know the last time I treated something that wasn’t a work sprain? You have plenty of doctors here Captain, seven, not including me. You can manage. You’ll survive.” Her voice carried through the doors to those working closest in Ops, she was sure of it. 

“Stay, and Starfleet has agreed to promote you.” His words were of a desperate man, but there were many desperate men now, and pity was scarce.

“A promotion I more than earned on Starbase 375 treating survivors with half of their bodies missing. To give me one now? To try and barter to keep me? When I have more experience than your CMO? When Starfleet Medical wouldn’t take me in the first place because I had just as many linguistic credits as science? I wouldn’t even be here now if Pulaski wouldn’t have gone over the rejected candidates when she became head of Medical! I know her, and she would never suggest that. In fact, I know she’d deny your request even if I wanted to stay. I do not belong here. You can keep your promotion, your credits, and your pride- in fact, I suggest you shove them up your ass because that’s what you’re talking out of. Have a good day, sir.”  She turned and walked towards the doors, who made their normal air compressor sound and slid open.

“Doctor!” She continued to walk away, towards the turbolift, not giving a damn if anyone had heard her. 

In her quarters, she began packing, putting things back into her trunks and that lovely set of Mary Poppins carpet bags, one of which actually belonged to Mary Poppins. She giggled at the thought of stuffing a floor lamp in there. Right now it was full of underwear. Her door chimed. It took little focus to tell it was Weyoun. 

“Come in!” He did. His diplomatic walk was genetic and did not suit the occasion at all. She turned to look at him, and he was doing his best not to look pathetic, holding the copy of The Hobbit she’d lent him. 

“Why are you leaving?” He knew exactly why she was leaving, but that’s not what he really wanted to know. He had no friends here, or at least he wouldn’t anymore, if he considered her a friend. She liked six, even if he did annoy her nearly incessantly. Good arguments were hard to come by at times like these. He held the book out to her, and she took it, carefully setting it on the table.

“Surely you heard what I said to the Captain.” 

“Yes. But that isn’t why you’re leaving.” She sighed, looking at the shorter Vortan man. He was nearly close enough to hug. Maybe I should hug him… but then I’d have to hug Quark. I like him, but I’m not sure I like him that much. 

“I came here because I thought I could prove myself to everyone that thought I hadn’t earned what I got. That I could actually do something of value. I came because I wanted to be worthy of the job I always wanted. The sheer hubris of thinking I could go to space and be so incredible that when I came home no one would snicker behind my back. What have I done? Nothing. I am going home where I belong, with my people, who need me. I can do something there.” I mattered to my patients on 375, but that was the last time I felt wanted out here. Not needed, not just another pair of hands or eyes, but wanted. 

She was not expecting Weyoun to hug her. He wasn’t exactly the hugging type, but she hugged him back, because this was special for him. Had he ever hugged before? Been hugged? The top of his hair tickled her nose a little, but she leaned into it a little. Poor Vorta, if I could take you with me, I would. 

When he shifted and pulled away, his eyes were glossy. She pretended not to notice, but grabbed his shoulder gently.

“Be careful Weyoun.” 

“Have a safe trip, Doctor.” She watched him turn and leave before resuming her packing. There was a lot to do before the Klingon Bird-of-Prey left for one of their outposts, and that was her ride home. Or at least, her ride off the station. 

The Klingon Captain looked at her and made a non-committal hissing noise. He was unhappy about carrying a passenger to the outpost, which was understandable because none of his crew looked like they even remembered what a break was. Meanwhile, she was leaving the war effort, and she could feel the stares as she maneuvered her things into the hold and sat on one of the trunks. At least it would only be six hours, maybe less, before they reached the outpost. It was commanded by a friend of the House of Grelnak, which her aunt had married into. From there, she could return home under her own power and no one would be the wiser. After all, the commander would remove her name from the manifest, and it would be like she never boarded the ship. However, as much as she liked Klingons, the smell of this ship would never leave her nose. Rotten targ, rotten targ, wafting through the vents. 

She was the last off the ship, and her belongings had been piled in the hallway. At least the trunks were on top of each other. She moved her bags on top and sat down, holding onto them, and waited. The Commander strode through the hallway like he was his own warhorse. The power radiated off of him, even in the dingy, darkened outpost. 

“Screaming Fish?” He stopped and looked at her. Clearly, she did not live up to his expectations for her species’ name. 

“Doctor Screaming Fish, niece to the head Bellringer of the House of Grelnak.” He was still unimpressed, but at this point she didn’t really care. She could deal with Klingon honor and reputation after the war ended. 

“You do not look like one. I doubt you really are of that house.” She stood up from the trunks and got directly into the Commander’s personal space, staring him in the eyes. 

“If your eyes were not in perfect order I would say that you are blind, clearly you are stupid, if you think you have ever seen a Screaming Fish before. I doubt you have been to Earth and you have never joined my Uncle in a feast while I accepted his hospitality on Qo'noS. Your higher right kidney is infected, you should get that looked at, Commander.” She went back to her trunks and sat down, grabbing her bags, and willed herself off the station. 

The connection was immediate, but moving through that amount of space feels like an eternity. She, and her belongings, gracefully appeared in the front hall of her family home on Earth. Of course, she was tackled immediately by her niece and nephew into hugs, and then pulled around by everyone home into several as well. The telepathic conversation would have been a cacophony to a human, perhaps even a Betazoid, but for her it was warm, comforting, and easy to separate. She was home. 

[chronicparagon]

“You’re pregnant?” from Jun please~

Send “You’re pregnant?” for my muse to announce their pregnancy to yours.

It was bound to happen. There were condoms on hand, but protection was not one hundred percent guaranteed. Access to other forms of birth control was difficult for Harmony to obtain. She wasn't very wealthy, nevermind that availability was limited. They tried to be careful and as much as Harmony wanted a family, she and Junsui never talked about it. They weren't in a rush either.

But fate had other plans for them.

The signs have been there since they began just a few weeks ago. Intense changes in emotions coupled with random cravings that may have unnerved Junsui when they were together. It became too much on the previous night. It was a peaceful slumber disrupted by her frantically running off for the bathroom with bouts of nausea.

That was that! It was the last straw. Harmony knew something was wrong, and she needed to find out and fast!

One quick trip to the nearest convenience shop later, Harmony came home with the test. Harmony's bated breath left her lungs, but it was not of relief. When she saw that line fade in the strip after the control's line's appearance, reality shattered. Everything familiar and comfortable became frightening. She fought the swirling emotions as fears and thoughts clashed in her mind.

Junsui had to know. He needs to know. But...what would he do? How would the lawyer feel? Would Junsui be scared? Angry? Would he leave her behind?

These worries made her blood turn ice cold. Her apartment seems much smaller as she left the bathroom. Wall seems to be slowly closing in. It's so hard to breathe.

Why is it so hard to breathe?!

How could she mess up so bad? Junsui doesn't deserve to be forced to deal with the responsibility. She was so careless. So foolish.

Stupid, her mind repeated.

Stupid, stupid...

Harmony's hands shook when she scheduled an appointment to confirm the result. Then, she did what she dreaded: Harmony's hands felt heavy as lead when she sent that text message to him. She apologized to Junsui because he's working, but when he's done, she needs him to come to her place. It's urgent.

She couldn't tell him by text. To her, it wouldn't be right. Even if this will destroy what she and Junsui had, she needs to tell him face to face.

Hours dragged during that terrible wait. She sat on the sofa with her head hung low. She waits.

She waits as the remnants of the world fade and float away.

Harmony fretted as she lost track of time. How can someone be so lost in despair that the sun has moved much closer to the west? When he came, Harmony couldn't force a smile. The fear keeps her in place, her eyes staring at her feet.

Harmony tilts her head back to see him. She stuttered as she greeted him, fighting to find the right words as she silently pleaded.

Please don't leave.

Please don't leave.

Please, please, please don't leave! Dear God! Don't go!

It was harder to speak and didn't get to the point just yet. It started with Harmony saying she loved him but was scared because of the news. But he beat her to it by asking.

As soon as those two words left Junsui's mouth, Harmony felt moisture brim her eyes just before the dam broke. She burst into tears as waves of raw emotions hit her without warning. Fingers curl into her hair as hands reach for the sides of her head. Her body leans forward as tears stream down her flushed face. Eyes shut tight, not wanting to see fear or anger on his face.

She wants to scream.

She wants to run away from this. God, she wants to throw up! It hurts so, so bad!

Moments pass before she uses all her might to force herself to talk.

"I-I-I don't kno-wha-w-what you wanna do, b-b-but-" She says between sobs and hiccups. "I-I wa-want to..." She sniffs with her red, tearful eyes which return to seeing him. "I want t-t-to keep it." Coughs break up her words before she can catch her breath. "I-I don't want you-to go. I don't wa-wanna lose y-you...But...b...but...I don't-" Harmony hiccups between the terrible sobs. Another deep breath, and she speaks once more.

"I-I don't..."

Heavens above, her heart is breaking. It hurts! It hurts so bad!

"I don't wa-want to force y-you...to stay. I can...s-set you free if it's what...you want."

@pocket-sized-lawyer

[themineknight]

Not at all, I'm mostly currently just learning where exactly you stand. What exactly you feel like I'm saying.

Yes, I am invoking a feeling of nostalgia from within myself, I suppose, but it's for a time much more recent than most of what you're describing. Going back in History: Yeah, there's better, and worse societies. Both globally, and locally. It's also not exactly a sense of loss in me, more that, when I listen to the stories my parents, and my older friends tell, it all ends up coming down to similar things.

Yes: No-Fault Divorce being illegal, or "We'll just live here because it's all we can do" kinds of community aren't great. I also have nowhere near enough experience with them, or memory of anything even closely resembling that, to want it back. What I feel like I want back is a sense of integrity.

When I was younger, News sources actually mattered. If a source of information wasn't verifiable, it wasn't generally believed. This was before the commercially viable/available internet. Honestly, you could probably even dial it up to before mainstream social media, and make it shorter ago. But nothing feels REAL anymore. Reality goes as far as what people say it is... and it terrifies me that it really is that easy.

Sure, Needing to make a community for yourself because any other way sucks is terrible... but we seem to be back there, in some ways. Reproductive rights for Women are scaled back in a lot of places. Trans and LGBTQ+ rights are being stripped down. People starve, when across the world, billions of tons of food are wasted every year. Money rules the world, but fewer people are getting enough of it to even just scrape by. Hatred for people who are different, in whatever for that takes, has become readily available. Misinformation is rampant, and there's enough people who don't care that it's becoming more and more difficult to even understand what is happening anywhere that might matter.

And then there's the other things I mentioned: While many things from the past century were necessary at the time to make survival easier, those things should not have been left. Knowledge of herbs and normal plants, both medicinal and edible, has eroded to a point that most people don't know it ever existed, despite these things still being in the books of some of the people that yet live.

I wasn't implying you might be tearing into my argument with what I said before. I have simply grown tired of telling people that there is simply too much. We ask for more convenience, and give up tangible things. We ask for security, and give up freedoms. We ask that things stay affordable, and yet fewer people can afford to have their own sanctuary that cannot be taken from them than there's been in my entire lifetime. More and more people live in fear of the same things that caused so many to die not even a century ago.

And I'm just... tired. Tired of being Afraid. Tired of knowing I may never have what my parents had, even if I should work harder than they did. Tired of not being able to turn my head without a sensationalized headline, that boils down to absolutely nothing but hate, or only a grain of truth that may not even matter.

Society is alive. Humanity as a species is thriving, with numbers that could not have been possible without all the advances we have made over the many many centuries. With an understanding of physics, mathematics, engineering, agriculture, and every kind of science under the sun and stars... but it all feels hollow. We aren't changing anything to affect our climate. We aren't making sure that every person can live a dignified life. We aren't taking care of the people that got us here, nor the people of the future. We aren't exploring further into the cosmos, the Moon was all we ever saw. And while we may not be stagnant, it feels like division is winning, and communities as a whole are losing.

Honestly, it's an emotional argument more than anything, and as such barely even really matters on the grand scale of society as a whole... but in the decades I've been alive, I've felt like more and more hate is seeping from the pores of society. Like truth is something that has ceased to matter. Like helping one's neighbours is further and further from people's minds. And it scares me. Because I don't know what the future holds anymore. I can only watch it get made.

A thing I love to do is telling prepper dudes that one of my disaster readiness skills is making stuffed animals. They never get it. Like, my dude, when things get very bad and we're all sharing overcrowded shelters, you're gonna want the power to comfort children. Trust me.

[orcelito]

My Taco Bell... is getting demolished..

My convenience store, my Many Other Things........

Bc of Land Development >:|

[peanutpmingib]

boyfriend!sunwoo headcanons

 presenting ur college bf sunwoo <3

word count : 1.1K+

watch it : suggestive content, skinny dipping, mildly illegal actions (sneaking into public pool after hours), if I missed anything feel free to let me know !

a/n : this series is rly fun, hopefully ill get to all the boys soon (hah the boys, get it ?) this one got a way more actual fic like then the other little headcanons in this series and thats okay I rly like it. I hope u do too !

_———————-_

-ah sunwoo, the neighborhood headache

-works at a tiny convenience store in front of a community pool, don't ask, he doesn't have any answers. Only conspiracies

-hates his job but its all worth it when he meets you there

-you come stumbling in during finals week, long after most ppl should be up n about

-He sees u n doesn't think much, another late night finals studier, could be way worse

-that is until he loses track of you in the tiny store and finds you passed out leaning on the cheese puffs, halfway to dream land and drooling. Kinda cute, kinda annoying

-He wakes you up, helps you get home and scores your number in the proces. Just in case you pass out in strange places again he tells you

-The rest is history

-U stop by the little store any chance u get.  Eager to taste any and all sweetness sunwoo gives you. Hes full energy and sugary words

-it becomes routine, you finish your classes for the day, check ur phone for ur daily “at the store today” or the rare “not at the store today”. And swing by the cozy little building, well more of a crack in the wall than anything but a store nonetheless  

-he always greets u with a smile, quickly followed by some dumb remark

“Don't fall asleep in the snack aisle again” “Unfortunately we just ran out of in isle beds sorry”

“I'm not gonna wake u up this time”

“You drool in your sleep you know it's so grossss”

-he's truly a headache, the reasons as to why u always choose to come back remains a mystery to u and the general population

(you know the reason but that doesnt mean youll admit it. Your crush on him will die with you dammit)

-there's one day where he tells you he'll be working the latest shift okay so he won't be there at your usual time. So instead u wear ur comfiest pjs, bring a few blankets and show up about 20 mins into his shift. Long after the streets have cleared of ppl. It reminds you of your first meeting all those nights ago

It's almost like you're the only 2 ppl in the world, and you let yourself believe it. Even for only the time shared together

-He pretends like the gesture doesn't make him blush and instead goes back to teasing

Its okay hes cute, you'll let it slide

-About another 30 mins in does he decide to ditch the job and take u to the infamous community pool. There have been 0 customers is his excuse

The pool is in fact right behind the store, the back staff room leads right out to the warm summer night illuminated by a single street light in the far corner of the property. Just enough to be able to walk without dying.

There begins a little strip of mangled concrete that separates the two. And from that a wired fence to the back end of the pool that looks like it's seen much better days

-He's teasing about it, per usual

Lots of “come on it isnt even that cold”

“Barely anyone uses it when it's light out what makes u think there's gonna be an influx in users at 2 am”

He starts the climb up the fence, looping a foot in one of the larger holes between the wire. It doesn't take him much time to scale it, landing with a smirk on the other side

-You eventually give in, rolling your eyes while attempting to do the same. Embarrassingly enough you end up needing his help getting over it.

‘You're such a baby”

“Just such up and help me woo”

He laughs but helps you anyway. Climbing back over to help you get your footing. The gentle hold he has on your ankle makes this seem like a far more intimate activity. Until he all but throws you the rest of the way over

“God i hate you”

Laughs bubble from his mouth faster than he can stop them, clutching his stomach and wiping tears,,“That was fun tho come on you have to admit that much”

“Yeah yeah whatever. “ you huff, letting him lead you the rest of the way to the dark water.

He gives you a look before you shake your head, “I'm not swimming tho!! I have no extra clothes and i'm not gonna let these get all wet and gross” you sigh

“So swim without them” he shrugs

“No you idiot i don't have any other-”

“I know, just swim without clothes? Live a little”

You can feel the blush slowly span your face at that, you hope he cant tell in the dark

“You live too much” is all you have to say back

He just laughs, not wasting time to peel his own clothes off and wiggling into the water. You try not to stare you really really do but holy hell does he make it hard. It's almost like he's taunting you with how slow he’s walking into the water

He turns to you after the water is up to his navel, motioning with a hand for you to join.

Really the problem isn't the situation at hand, skinny dipping seems like great fun rly, the problem lies with the man who you're in this predicament with. He's all but invaded your heart and mind at this point. He's just, so, everything you've ever wanted and more. Sweet smiles and even sweeter words, teasing but still kind, always making room for you in his life. Hard working to his core.

the way he looks at you while you tell him the most mundane things about your day makes your head spin, the care he takes into looking out for you is unmatched by anyone. you are so gone for him

fuck it.

you toss your clothes to the side faster than you can change your mind about it and slide your way into the freezing water

“it’s fucking freezing what the hell “

he only strides closer to u, gently lacing your hands together and pulling you further in, where the water now comes to your collar bones.

“I got you” he murmurs

you shiver and shake at the water,”m still cold”

but he only presses himself impossible close to under the water

“well, let me warm u up then” he barely whispers while your chests are flush together, his hands on either side of your face

that night is the first time you kiss, and the night he confesses

-your new found relationship is filled with many more happy moments and endless teases

-loving sunwoo is as easy as simply existing near him. He pulls you into his orbit, never intending to let you so much as slip from within. An anchor of sorts, internally destined to lie within the invisible force that drives the both of u together

his laugh is infectious his smile brighter than the sun, always putting you first and scheming of new ways to make u blush

he’s a keeper, treat him well

[skopostheorie]

I think what I mean to say is that, while I'm not necessarily immune to it, I generally have little interest in Astérix things that treat it like a franchise or general pop culture icon rather than literature. I don't think I'd consider Astérix literature - not even because of the can-comics-be-literature debate but rather just because it relies so heavily on its visuals for the humorous delivery that it cannot be divorced from its status as visual art. However, just because it's popular doesn't mean it has to be treated like you'd treat Mario, like Spiderman, like Dragon Ball. Where much of the appreciation as a fan is about owning the action figures or shirts or any spin off in which they happen to appear; themes becoming irrelevant.

Astérix is already unique in that in lieu of being a face to which anything can be attached, the core of his identity is tied to three things: the apolitical yet satirical faire-rire, the homely simplicity of his life and its pleasures, and successful resistance to unnecessary change, adversity and oppression, despite looking tiny and unimposing - all the while taking pride in the very things for which you are persecuted.

To say nothing of how Astérix can be seen as a critique of the post WWII modernisation France faced to the detriment of the more basic and human underbelly of its culture, this means that general franchise shenanigans such as merchandise and games and theme parks which otherwise have nothing to say lose their inherent Astérix-ness by default. The entire reason Astérix is so popular and so brilliant is gone, and as such, the reason anyone should want to buy it is also gone. You could reply that even if all of this were true it is still enjoyable to appreciate the world of Astérix purely for affinity's sake, but to that I say : what world? Besides some very basic plot points which stay somewhat consistent, everything within Astérix is malleable to keep the pacing convenient and to align it with whatever's funny. Details that might render Astérix more grounded and unchanging are disregarded the moment it is more productive for them to be different. Those fandom-type discussions are wholly unproductive for Astérix because you will never get anywhere; those things were never the point. And that's probably why it doesn't have a fandom (again it's literally just me with an active dedicated Astérix account because I'm weird).

It's easy to not realise this because so many people grew up with Astérix, and hence don't necessarily appreciate it for its brilliance but rather just because it's What Was There in their childhood. Most pop culture is somewhat like that. But Astérix isn't selling a combined 200 million just because kids have it read to them at bedtime; it is genuinely stunning as a series. It's why parents speak fondly of it rather than "that stupid book you always read". Sure, other pop culture icons have their genuine merits, but I think you can get away with ignoring this the majority of the time. Like, Pikachu doesn't suddenly lose what makes him so iconic because you're wearing him on a t shirt as opposed to rewatching the scenes where he refused to get in the Pokéball. When you really get down to it, it's because he's cute and everyone knows who he is. Contrarily, what even is Astérix stripped of the series' context and humour? What reason does anyone have to appreciate him divorced of what made him rise to worldwide success in the first place?

This might appear like a You Need A Very High IQ To Understand Astérix sort of argument but I don't mean that. It is true that, in my humble opinion, Astérix is special and has more depth than most pop culture icons; but even assuming I did not believe that, I think it's just a matter of recognising the series has a very particular tone that cannot be translated into mass production.