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kaidasdesires · 2 days ago

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“Your Eyes Only.” : Heeseung

☾ grouping: Heeseung x afab reader

☾ rating: 18+, explicit content

☾ wc: 7.6k

☾ content warnings: aphrodisiac, altered state, y/n feels like she's been drugged, explicit sex, wax play, light choking and hair pulling, brief oral

☾ summary: Heeseung calls y/n to the studio to show her a new song he's working on. He thinks y/n is as beautiful as a piece of art and wants to show her what that looks like to him.

Or, Heeseung is a siren and uses his voice to seduce y/n and show her how good he can make her feel.

☾ author note: This story is fiction and does not reflect the personalities or desires of those it is written about. This story has some scenes that may be uncomfortable for some readers, read at your own discretion.

☾ taglist: @who-tf-soddhi , @imnotyizhuo , @deobitifull , @ochaluver , @jakeswifez , @helenngxz , @enhalusional , @d-dilemma , @heerinnie , @qeeun-didi , @capri-cuntz , @strxwbloody , @jungwonloverr , @b3tt7boop , @zara2318 , @simbabyj , @gnvi-eve , @babygirlskz98 , @nshmrarki , @50-husbands , @peonywon , @moonpri , @binneulton , @leeheeso , @roslayy , @tunafishyfishylike , @fancypeacepersona , @irenic-max , comment below to be added! <3

It had been a few weeks since the night you got drunk and Jungwon told you everything. Jungwon had still tried to avoid the conversation when he could so you didn’t get much more information out of him. However, as you predicted, nothing had changed. Even with the confession, all of the boys continued to act the same. Sure maybe a little more handsy or flirty than before but nothing crazy.

It was late in the evening, you had just gotten out of the shower, the steam clinging to your skin as you reached for your phone. A notification lit up the screen, and your heart skipped a beat as you saw the sender's name: Heeseung.

Hey, are you awake?

You cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. It was unusual for Heeseung to text you in the evening like this. He was usually busy with practice or working on new music.

I’m awake. You okay?

As you waited for his response, you dried your hair, a towel wrapped around your head. Your mind raced, contemplating why he would be texting you like this suddenly and at this hour.

A moment later, your phone buzzed again.

Can you come to the studio?

A slight pang of nervousness hit you. Heeseung didn’t answer you if he was okay and normally his messages weren’t so short. Your hair was dry enough so you quickly changed into a tank top with a cardigan and leggings.

I’m on the way.

You texted him back, a sense of urgency hitting you as you left your house and locked the door behind you. The walk was only about 10 minutes and you quickly stopped by the convenience store to get some snacks and coffee for Heeseung. You knew he would appreciate the gesture, as he often spent long nights in the studio working on his music.

Once you got to the building you rang the doorbell and Heeseung buzzed you in. You headed to the elevator and quickly hit the close door button behind you. As you waited for the elevator to arrive on the right floor you thought briefly about how you could cheer Heeseung up if he was having a hard time. Maybe these snacks would help.

You headed down the hallway to the studio door and when you knocked Heeseung let you in.

“Hey!” You said a little bit out of breath from your walk and carrying things. When you sat down on the little couch you noticed that Heeseung was alone in the studio. “Where is everyone? Is everything okay Heeseung?” You asked concern in your voice was evident.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just wanted you to hear something I was working on before I showed it to the rest of the guys.” He responded, closing the door behind you.

“Oh!” You nodded before giving him a sweet smile. “It must be something important to you. I’d be honored.”

He smiled back. His eyes trailed to the bags you brought with you. “What’s this?” He questioned.

“I brought you some coffee and snacks. I was honestly a little worried Hee, you don’t typically text me this late at night.” You responded, pulling the snacks and a canned coffee drink out of the bag.

The studio was a bit cramped. A small couch, a desk that held the music mixing equipment and Heeseung’s computer, a swivel chair, and then the mixing booth. Heeseung sat on the swivel chair in front of you. He took the coffee drink, popped the tab with one hand, and took a sip.

“I’m just fine. Better now that you're here though.” He said. When you met his eyes he was eyeing you up and down before he took another sip.

You couldn’t help but blush as his eyes trailed down your body. Your tank top was exposing your chest more than normal but you had just grabbed something that wouldn’t stick to your damp post-shower body.

Heeseung stood up and pulled a lighter out of his desk before using it to light a few candles around the studio. Heeseung preferred it to be dark when he sang or was working on writing something. You remember he had mentioned before that he didn’t care for artificial light either which is why he opted for candles instead.

“I hope you like it, I wrote it with someone I like in mind,” Heeseung said, a smirk on his face even though he wasn’t looking at you.

“I don’t think you’ve ever shown me something I don’t like Heeseung.” You complimented him in response. Then you sat back on the couch getting more comfortable while Heeseung went into the booth and put on his headphones. You assumed his comment wasn’t about you. He started the music and your ears were met with a slow sensual beat. You closed your eyes and listened as Heeseung sang.

My body is burning up because of you

My heart thirsts because of you

Like a fever, fever, fever, fever

His voice was so beautiful that it seeped into your ears like warm honey. The smell from the candles only heightened your senses as you listened. The smell was something like cedar, a comforting woody smell but with a hint of cinnamon. It was a nice smell. You wished that you could smell this sort of scent all the time.

I want to embracе you

I want to embrace you

Push me away but my firе still burns

Turn to ash but the flame still rises

You opened your eyes to find that Heeseung was looking right at you as if he was singing to you. You blushed, not realizing he had been watching you. A second after your eyes met his you felt your head spin. You leaned forward and clutched onto the couch to help stabilize yourself. You weren’t the type to suddenly get dizzy like this. Maybe the smell from the candles was getting to you. Heeseung continued to sing, the melodic tune washing over you. He was still watching you but he didn’t seem concerned.

Like a fever, fever, fever

I want to ache for you

Your body started feeling hot and tingly. You were worried you were getting sick suddenly, but you didn’t feel bad per se, just a burning sensation against your skin and a bit dizzy. If it wasn’t so sudden you argue that it felt kind of nice in a way. You lifted your head back up, and everything seemed to be moving a little bit slower than before. You looked back to Heeseung, he was still looking at you, watching you.

Don't stop

Yes, all day, all day burn me

Please stop

My sun, stop baby, oh baby

I beg you, do something, anything

His voice was like fire in your veins, every note he sang you felt like an electric pulse through your body. You felt an overwhelming feeling of desire, a craving for touch and closeness. You pulled off your cardigan, the heat becoming too much for you to handle.

You didn’t notice when Heeseung had stopped singing and exited the booth. You were still trying to understand why you suddenly felt so weird. He sat beside you and gently patted your head. His hand coming down to rest on the back of your neck.

“It’s okay, you’ll get used to it soon.” He said, once again glancing over your more exposed skin. “It’s not too much is it darling?” he asked looking at the goosebumps raised on your arms.

“Heeseung– what– what did you do?” you asked, head still spinning. The sudden pet name almost manages to go over your head. You wanted him to be closer, touching you, anything to help ground you. You grabbed onto his sleeve hoping it would help the feeling.

“I know Jungwon told you about us. But I noticed that nobody has had the guts to make a move on you yet. Unsurprising really.” He replied, insinuating that the other boys were weak or scared. “This is… just part of who I am. But you're okay, don’t be afraid.”

“You drugged me?” you asked, feeling even hotter now. That was the only thing that made sense in this situation. Or did it? How could he have possibly drugged you when all he did was light candles and sing to you?

Heeseung laughed before he placed a hand on your chin and pulled your face up to look at him. “I would never do that pretty girl. Don’t you remember what I said? I told you not to worry and that none of us would ever hurt you.” He reassured you, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk.

That voice you had heard in your head at first the other night had been him. Now you felt crazy. A little scared and surprised by the way you couldn’t but help want Heeseung to kiss you. He was so close and you wanted more.

“Come here, you can sit in my lap until I'm done working on this.” He spoke up, obviously aware that you didn’t want to let him go considering you still had a death grip on his sleeve. The older boy pulled your arm gently to get you to let him go before he grabbed both your hands and helped you onto your feet. Your knees threatened to buckle below you as you followed him to the chair.

This wasn’t something you normally would ever do. Of course, you found Heeseung handsome but he was always so calm and mature. You never dared hit on him because all his flirting seemed like just something he’d say to make someone feel good. You were sure he had someone he was seeing or that he wasn’t interested in you. But then again you felt that way about all the boys before Jungwon’s confession. Why would they be interested in you when they could have any girl they wanted?

Heeseung guided you to the chair with care before he sat down. At first, you went to sit in his lap with your back pressed against his chest but he stopped you.

“Turn around.” He said, gently turning you by the waist. His tone was somehow soft but firm at the same time. You knew he wouldn’t tolerate any pushback you gave him, so you obliged his demand. Then he guided you to staddle him and sit in his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and adjusted your hips which resulted in a quiet grunt from the older boy. You couldn’t help but press your face into the crook of his neck. Normally you wouldn’t be this bold but you just wanted to be touching him. The smell of his cologne only fueled the heat you felt as you breathed against his neck.

After a minute of listening to Heeseung clicking on his keyboard, he instead opted for filling the room with the sound of his humming. The vibrations against your face and the sound so much closer to you made you want more of him. Why was his singing making you feel this way?

You felt worked up, and hot. You just wanted him to touch you. It was almost subconscious when you made the slightest shift against Heeseungs hips.

He responded with a quiet “mmm.”, not giving you the response you had hoped for.

You pressed your lips against his neck, giving him a few small kisses. Maybe that would get him to react.

Again, there was almost no response from the older boy. Instead, he just continued to hum.

Your pussy was starting to throb. This whole thing confused you. You didn’t understand why you were so ungodly horny. You didn’t understand why your body was reacting this way. You sat there, contemplating between letting the feeling overtake you or maintaining the image Heeseung had always seen you as. At most, the boys had only ever seen you making out with a guy or in your bathing suit, besides the other night, nothing of this level of intimacy had happened between any of you. You were sure they saw you as a bit modest and shy, which wasn't necessarily true, but that's all you ever showed them.

You pushed your forehead into Heeseung’s collarbone in defeat before using your hips to grind into him.

“Oh, what’s this?” Heeseung teased as he stopped typing and placed his hand on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing small circles on your skin where your tank top had risen on its own.

You huffed a bit. You were desperate for him to do something at this point, but he wasn’t giving you anything. But you were too stubborn to blatantly give up your still somewhat respectable appearance. You did the same action again, except this time, you could feel that he was getting hard underneath you.

“Darling, I’m not done yet.” he cooed, trying to act like your actions weren’t getting to him.

You couldn’t help but let out the smallest little whine. You felt him smile, probably a cocky one. Nonetheless, he continued with his humming and typing while you continued slowly grinding against him. His cock twitched in his sweatpants begging for more friction. You obliged, tightening your arms around his shoulders to get more leverage as you pushed harder against him.

This earned you another quiet grunt, followed by the sound of Heeseung’s laptop being shut suddenly. The noise caused you to jump.

“You’re lucky y/n,” he said, his voice much darker than before. “You’re lucky that I'm going to go easy on you since I’m the first.”

You felt his hand slide up your back and his fingers tangle into your hair before he tugged your head back suddenly. You squeaked, not expecting the sudden action nor the pain tingling across your scalp.

He looked over your face. It was red, flushed with desire. Your eyes were glossy and round, begging him for more. Mouth slightly parted as you processed his actions. He smirked.

“Look at you, so pretty and desperate for me already” Heeseung whispered, leaning into your ear “I should make you ride me right here like this.”

His hot breath tickled against you and sent shivers down your spine. His sudden change in demeanor was intoxicating and his words made you only want more.

Instead, Heeseung reached both hands under your ass and lifted you and himself from the chair before moving you to the couch. You clung onto him, not wanting to lose the feeling of his body against yours. He kept you on his lap, but this was more comfortable for the both of you than the swivel chair.

You looked at him, he too looked a little bit flushed and needy, not that he would admit that.

He reached up to grab the nape of your neck, and he finally gave you the attention you had wanted. He pulled you to him and kissed you. His kiss was much harder than the kiss at the party but it was still slow and drawn out. He kissed you passionately like he was savoring every single movement.

His hands found your lower back again but slowly started to push up the fabric. Then they roamed over your sides leaving trails of tingling heat behind them. The kiss deepened as Heeseung’s tongue licked its way into your mouth and you started to rut against him again.

“Fuck,’ He cursed as your clothed pussy rubbed against him. You could tell he was holding back because of the way his fingers pressed deeply into your sides, almost as if he was trying to ground himself.

You pulled away from him, briefly taking over the lead to reach your fingers under the hem of his shirt and pull it off. You looked over him, his muscles and toned body surprising you. You hadn’t expected his body to be so nice.

“Your turn.” He said after giving you a second to look him over. He lifted your shirt slowly over your head, keeping eye contact with you the entire time until he threw your shirt onto the floor.

Then his hands roamed the softness of your exposed body fingers gliding over your sides and under your breasts. He pulled you back down into the kiss before slowly kissing along your jawline and onto your neck. He sucked and bit on your neck not hard enough to leave any lasting marks but enough to elicit quiet whimpers from you. You ran your fingers through his hair earning a hum of satisfaction. As he continued to kiss your neck, you felt his hand travel up your back until it reached your bra, and in one smooth motion, he unclasped it.

Heeseung pulled back from you, still maintaining eye contact with you. “Can I see you, darling?” He asked, not wanting to do anything that you were uncomfortable with.

You nodded and let the bra fall off your shoulders and into your lap exposing your breasts. Your nipples hardened quickly at the change in temperature earning a smirk from the older boy who was already admiring you.

“Wow y/n, you’re beautiful.” He whispered, reaching out to knead the soft mounds in his hands. You blushed, suddenly feeling shy and exposed.

“Such a pretty girl.” He continued with his compliments, now taking your nipples in between his fingers. He played with them for a minute, rubbing them and pinching them causing you to shiver at the feeling.

He looked over your features once more, and seeing that you maybe felt a little shy or nervous he started to hum again. This time humming quietly while he leaned down to suck on your nipples. The vibrations and the sound cause that dizzying hot feeling to overtake you again. He continued like this for a minute, swapping between his fingers and his mouth before he gently pushed you over to where you were lying back on the couch.

You watched him as he stood up and pulled down his pants. Leaving him in just his underwear. His cock was hard and his underwear was wet where he had already begun to leak. He didn’t seem embarrassed by this and it only made you more aroused, knowing that he was just as worked up as you were.

“Please.” The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“Hmm? Please what darling?” Heeseung replied, leaning down over you and reaching his fingers into the band of your leggings. He kissed down your stomach as he slowly pulled your leggings down. He continued to hum between the kisses, the humming keeping you intoxicated and warm.

He pulled your leggings off, leaving you exposed except for your panties. You were so hot, but also the tiniest bit cold since his body wasn’t touching yours anymore.

“Have you figured it out yet?” Heeseung asked, stepping away from you momentarily to the other side of the room.

You couldn’t see where he had gone since he had disappeared behind your line of sight.

You weren’t sure exactly what he was asking, your mind consumed with just wanting him to fuck you already. “Hee,” you whined, “want you.” The second part came out much quieter than his nickname.

“Oh, I know you do pretty. But you just need to wait a little while longer. There was a pause before he continued.”You know how much I love to make art right?” He asked, voice now coming back closer to you.

You could only nod in response.

“Close your eyes.” He demanded gently. You did what he asked, shifting your thighs back and forth to give yourself some sort of friction, the heat and need unbearable between your legs.

“You’re so breathtaking y/n, that I can’t help but use you as a canvas.” He said, a smirk evident in his voice.

It was hot. Incredibly hot as it trickled down your chest, in between your breasts, and towards your belly button. You yelped, surprised by the sudden pain that quickly turned into pleasure.

And again, burning hot down your thighs, trickling over the edges towards the couch. You fidgeted, unable to hold back the surprised squeaks every time the feeling came.

You opened your eyes to see Heeseung standing over you, the pine and cinnamon candle that he lit earlier in hand. The red wax left hot trails across your body. He tipped the candle again, watching your face as the wax trickled inwards on your thighs towards your heat. He enjoyed watching your face squeeze up in pain followed by a wave of pleasure.

He continued this for a while, trickling hot wax across sensitive parts of your body while admiring you. By the time he was done, red wax that almost looked like a pattern of lightning or tree branches covered your body.

“There, now that I’ve painted my beautiful canvas, it is also up to me to ruin it.” He said, voice laced with a darkness that you hadn’t anticipated.

He placed the candle back on the table before inviting himself between your legs. He was quick to pull off your panties, not giving you a chance to be shy or nervous. It was obvious he couldn’t hold back anymore.

He admired your pussy. Using one finger to trace between your folds and tease your clit before running back down.

You gasped, begging him for more without asking.

He slipped one finger in with no resistance, and then a second. He was lacking the same patience he had had for hours beforehand. His eyes were full of a hungry lust.

You mewled as his fingers pressed into you, the feeling relieving your aching heat just a little bit. “Ah– Heeseung,” you moaned quietly.

He curled his fingers as he pumped them in and out of you, reaching for the spot he knew would have you squirming under him. He leaned forward over you, took one hand, and wrapped it around your throat. He didn’t squeeze enough to really choke you, but enough to make sure your attention was solely focused on him.

“Tell me what you want darling.” He said, speeding up his movements and purposefully hitting the sensitive spot over and over. His dark eyes peered into yours as he waited.

You moaned as your body tensed up to his touch, both hands coming up to grab onto his arm that was still around your throat. You could barely catch your breath with the way your body was tensing up, hips arching off the couch, but you knew he wouldn’t give you any mercy until you gave him what he wanted.

“Heeseung–ah– please,” you whined, little gasps coming out between each thrust of his fingers.

“Ah, so pretty for me honey, but not enough.” he cooed, fingers continuing their assault.

“Nngh– please Heeseung, please fuck me,” you begged, tears pricking at your eyes.

He chuckled, slowing his fingers down and watching you as you panted. He released his hand from your neck before pulling his fingers out and sticking them into his mouth to clean them off.

“Good girl,” he praised, “I thought you'd never ask. All this time you’ve been trying to keep this side of you hidden from me. But look at how good you are, listening to me and doing what I ask. Do any of the other boys know you’re such a slut darling?”

His words overwhelmed you. Sure you weren’t a virgin, but you’d never done anything with the boys. Gotten off to the idea of fucking them before sure, but that was a secret that you kept to yourself. You never wanted to risk harming them by getting caught or hurting the bond that you had with them.

You shook your head, giving Heeseung an honest answer.

“I’m so lucky, getting you all to myself like this, even if it's just for a little while.” Heeseung smiled, the dark glint of desire ever present in his eyes. He pulled away from you again, standing up to take off his underwear. You watched as his cock hit the skin of his stomach. You found yourself surprised once again, his cock was bigger than you anticipated.

He pumped his length in his hand, running a finger over the head to smear the pre cum along his shaft. He looked so good like this.

With a sudden wave of desire and determination to earn more praise you sat up and replaced Heeseungs hands with your own. You stroked him a few times before leaning over and kitten-licking the top. You didn’t hear any reaction from Heeseung, so you decided to push it further. You took a deep breath before taking him into your mouth. When you sunk down on him you finally looked up at him through your eyelashes.

“Fuck–ah fuck,” Heeseung groaned as you took him into your mouth. You had caught him off guard and were rewarded by his surprised reaction. It took him a second to compose himself, his eyes opening to meet yours. He watched you for a moment as you bobbed up and down on his cock slowly. You could tell he was savoring the view and the feeling of your mouth on him.

Then he reached forward to run his fingers through your hair, an affectionate action before his fingers tightened around the strands and pushed you farther down onto his length.

“You’re so pretty like this y/n,” Heeseung cooed as he held you down on his cock, far enough down that you felt your throat starting to spasm around him.

You tried your best to not gag as he held you down. Tears welled in your eyes as you looked up at him. His words were gentle, but his actions were stern and dominant.

“You’re so good darling, showing me how badly you want to please me. But,” he paused before pushing you all the way down onto his length till your nose hit his stomach, “I don’t think you could handle it.” He whispered, before releasing you completely.

You choked as you pulled off of him, followed by a gasp for air and a few tears running across your cheeks. You hadn't been prepared to deep-throat him like that, but the action turned you on tremendously. How his words were so sweet but his actions only made you want to egg him on. To see how rough he would get with you.

Heeseung interrupted your thoughts as he leaned over to kiss your forehead before laying you back on the couch. He got on top of you and your heat clenched around nothing as you felt his cock slide against you.

“I’ve been wanting this for a long time y/n,’ Heeseung whispered into your neck as you felt him reach down. He ran his cock up and down your folds, sliding easily because of how wet you were.

You gasped at the feelings before reaching up to grab onto his shoulders.

He teased you like this for a moment, watching you carefully in between leaving kisses on your neck and jaw.

“Tell me you want me darling,” Heeseung urged, pushing the tip against your entrance.

“God– please Heeseung, I want you… so bad Hee,” you begged, raising your hips in an effort to coax him into you.

With your consent, the older boy groaned, slowly pushing himself into you. He rested a hand on your cheek as he did so, watching carefully for any indication of pain.

You leaned your head back, mouth parted in a silent moan as he bottomed out before slowly pulling back out and repeating.

He continued to fuck you slowly, leaning down to kiss you passionately as he thrust into you. Your fingers entangled into his hair, tugging gently which earned you a moan from Heeseung between kisses. Your tongues fought for dominance, and occasionally Heeseung took your bottom lip in between his teeth.

After a minute of this, Heeseung dipped his head back into your neck before speeding up his thrusts. He fucked into you faster and harder and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His thrusts brought out continuous strings of lewd moans from you.

You opened your eyes in surprise when you felt Heeseungs hand press over your mouth. “Your noises are so beautiful darling, and I so badly want to hear them. In fact, I wish all the boys could hear you moaning for me baby. I wish everyone in this building knew who you belonged to tonight,” he paused, taking a moment to peer into your eyes. “But I can’t have you letting the whole building know what we are doing in here hmm? That might get me in a bit of trouble.” He finished his thought with a quick raise of his eyebrow.

You could only nod in response as he continued his motions, a spring of tension coiling in your stomach with every thrust.

With his hand still over your mouth, you could only listen to the sound of his panting and quiet grunts. His voice was still beautiful even in this situation.

“Oh, by the way,” Heeseung spoke again suddenly, “I’m a siren.”

He removed his hand from your mouth and instead moved to pull your legs up to your chest so he could get a deeper angle. Gasps and whines left you in quick succession, this position only tightening the coil in your stomach further.

You were having trouble processing what Heeseung had just said to you and of course it was hard to believe any of what Jungwon had said was real but the new information gave you clarity on what made you feel so aroused tonight. Heeseung’s voice. It intoxicated you and consumed you and it was all at Heeseung’s will.

You moaned quietly at the idea of this. How he could get you so worked up with just his voice.

After a moment, Heeseung reached down in between the two of you and his fingers found your clit. He rubbed small circles as he continued to fuck into you harshly.

You dug your nails into his back and began to tremble from the overwhelming stimulation. You knew it wouldn’t take you that long to cum considering how worked up you had been. Heeseung knew this too.

“You know what that means?” He asked, sweat causing his hair to stick to his forehead slightly.

You shook your head, giving him a curious look in response.

“It means,” He smirked. “From now on, every time you hear my voice. You’ll be reminded of this moment. You’ll be reminded of how good I made you feel, and how desperate you were for me. How you trembled underneath my fingers darling.”

The idea of this sent you into a spiral of arousal, you heard Heeseung singing all the time. He practically never stopped singing. How would you ever be able to sit in on any of their practices or concerts? Heat rushed to your core at the images and scenarios in your head. You whimpered, a small pathetic noise of desperation.

“Heeseung,” you moaned as his fingers and thrusts continued. You felt his cock twitch inside of you, the sound of you calling his name obviously getting to him.

You couldn’t hold back much longer and you knew he couldn’t either. His thrusts were becoming a bit sloppy and rushed.

His eyes met yours again, neither of you saying anything for a moment before you spoke up. Your orgasm was approaching quickly now.

“Heeseung, please, please don’t stop.” You begged, your head rolling back again as you allowed yourself to be consumed by the feeling of him fucking you.

He picked up speed with determination and he leaned down once more kissing the side of your jaw and then your ear.

“You’re so pretty y/n, I know you want to cum for me.” He said, his voice though not singing, sent that dizzy wave of overwhelming arousal over you again.

“Hee—hee, please.” You cried as you were thrown desperately toward the edge, the coil so tight you could barely breathe.

“Cum for me. Cum nice and hard for me darling. Show me how good you feel.” He all but commanded into your ear, his thrusts and fingers maintaining a slower but consistent speed and motion.

And you did. Unsure if it was from his voice or at your own will but you came hard. You came so hard that no sound escaped your lips, you were breathless, air stolen by the waves of pleasure as they cascaded over you. Heeseung fucked you through your orgasm and kept fucking you until you shook from overstimulation. Once he finally pulled his hand away from between you he was able to focus on his own climax.

His pace quickened, and your body still clenched around him, overstimulation causing tears to brim at your eyes.

“Heeseung,” you moaned, and it was lewd. You sounded almost straight from a porno and that was all he needed.

“Fuck—,” he cursed, surprised by what you had just done. His thrusts became uneven and frantic before he pulled out and came over your stomach. His quiet groans alone were almost enough to get you fired up again.

Your head was floaty as you watched him come down from his own high. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed happily. Then his eyes met yours and he looked so much different than before. He looked at you endearingly and lovingly, any sadistic dominance gone from his eyes.

He was quick to get up, grab tissues, and wipe you off. You looked down and saw the wax that still covered your body. That was going to be a pain to clean up but it was so worth it.

Heeseung helped you back into your clothes before he got back into his own clothes and settled back onto the couch sitting beside you.

There was now somewhat of an awkward silence as you didn’t know what to expect next. You honestly just anticipated that you would go home from here and it would be just like a one-night stand of sorts.

You fiddled with your fingers in your lap, a slight twinge of disappointment at the ideas your head was creating.

Heeseung grabbed your hand and laced his fingers in between yours.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. For being so quiet that is.” He said, obviously having sensed your anxiety. “I’m just honestly speechless. You’re so beautiful and I feel lucky to know you and get to experience and share a friendship and… this…with you.” His other hand motioned vaguely not sure what to consider your relationship at this moment in time.

You couldn’t help but smile at his words and nod in agreement.

The older boy took your hand and pulled you up. He grabbed your cardigan and helped you slip it on before leading you to the door and turning off the lights.

“Let’s go.” He said, hand still entangled in yours.

He grabbed a sweatshirt from a hook by the door and slipped it on pulling up the hood over his head. Then he pulled out two black masks from the pocket and handed one to you before putting on the other one. He looked over to you, his eyes showing a big smile.

“Where are we going?” You asked, having enough comprehension skills to realize that he was taking you somewhere and that’s why you both needed to have your identities covered a bit.

“Home of course,” Heeseung replied, pulling you out the door and closing it behind him. He led you towards the elevator.

“Oh—, Home?” You questioned. It wasn’t often that you went over to the dorms so late at night. Did he mean back to your place? The boys never came over to your place either and it definitely wasn’t in good shape for any guests.

“Mhmm.” He replied as the elevator doors closed. He was still holding your hand tightly, almost as if he was worried you might not want to come with him.

Truth be told, you were still feeling the post orgasm high and you didn’t really care where you went right now as long as it was with him.

He continued leading you outside of the building and when you made it outside he turned to head towards the dorms.

“The dorms?” You questioned. Obviously, you knew this was the likely answer but it somehow still surprised you.

“Yep!” Heeseung replied, not giving you anything more than short answers that way you couldn’t argue or try to change his mind.

“But Heeseung, uhm… why?” You asked. It was late, and coming over just to hang out wasn’t really the best idea. You’d need to leave soon before you got too sleepy.

He chuckled, his fingers squeezing yours for a moment. “I’m not going to just let you go home after that y/n. I’m not a fuck boy.”

“Well, I didn’t say that.” You replied, whacking him on the shoulder with your free hand. He laughed again and you wished you could see his smile instead of the mask.

The rest of the short walk was quiet except for the various sounds of isolated cars or chit-chat of other people walking around. The city truly never slept around here.

Heeseung unlocked the door when you arrived, finally releasing your hand before pushing open the door. The dorm was quiet except for the TV in the living room which was playing some sort of anime. You slipped off your shoes and cardigan welcoming the comforting warmth of the dorm.

Heeseung went into the kitchen to grab you both some water. As you waited you noticed that Jake had fallen asleep on the couch. You smiled and walked over to turn off the lamp that was shining in his face.

When you turned back around you jumped, surprised to be somewhat face to face with Jungwon. He was wearing a tank top and sweatpants. His muscular arms caught you a bit off guard as he normally never wore exposing clothes like that.

“J-Jungwon!” You whispered, trying not to wake up Jake.

“What are you doing here so late?” Jungwon asked, his brows furrowed a bit.

“Oh- I was just-,” you stammered.

Obviously, you weren’t going to tell Jungwon what you had been doing. But coming up with something else was impossible, your brain wasn’t awake enough to come up with anything quick enough.

“She came with me,” Heeseung spoke suddenly from behind you once again causing you to jump.

Jungwon looked at Heeseung, and then to you, and then back to Heeseung. Then Jungwon looked back at you and your skin prickled as you watched him eye you from top to bottom. The look in his eyes changed, but to what you couldn’t tell. His eyes stopped on your chest briefly before he nodded and his facial expression went back to normal. You flushed, Jungwon didn’t normally steal glances at you so obviously like that.

“Ah,” he paused his tone unreadable, “That’s good. I was worried about you y/n, showing up late like this.”

“Don’t worry,” Heeseung replied, “She’s safe with me Jungwon.”

Jungwon nodded again before walking away and into the kitchen himself. Heeseung handed you a glass of water before he took your hand again and pulled to towards his bedroom.

You were surprised, however, when Heeseung stopped and pulled you into the bathroom.

“I’ll grab you some clothes of mine you can wear to sleep in. I can shower with you if you want, or you can shower by yourself if you’d be more comfortable,” he said before turning to head towards his bedroom, “Oh, and use whatever shampoo or body wash you want, everyone has different tastes so there’s a few to choose from.”

You nodded and closed the door behind him. Processing everything that was going on was overwhelming but the idea of staying in the dorm made you feel a little giddy inside. You took a few sips from the glass of water before sitting it down on the counter.

Heeseung’s knock brought you out of your thoughts as he slowly opened the door. In his hand were some sweatpants and a T-shirt. He smiled at you before setting them down on the counter beside the glass of water.

“Do you want me to shower with you?” He asked. Heeseung’s eyes also trailed your bare skin. “You might need some help getting all that off.” He continued pointing to your chest.

You looked down and suddenly your face started to burn. How the fuck did you forget the wax! It’s not that Jungwon was looking at your tits but instead, he was looking at the wax that covered your chest and cleavage in tiny trails.

You looked back at Heeseung, the mischievous look on his face told you that he knew exactly what you were thinking about right now. But it was too late now, there was nothing you could do about it.

“I think that would be nice actually. Thank you, Hee.” You replied.

Heeseung was happy to help. He helped you undress and got the water going for you so you could get in and enjoy it for a moment while he brushed his teeth and undressed himself.

You let the warm water trail down your body washing away any other stress and anxiety you had about the situation.

When Heeseung joined you couldn’t help but admire him once more. The way his bronze skin glistened in the water as it cascaded over him. The older boy took your hand and placed it on his chest.

“Don’t be afraid.” He said quietly. You tilted your head confused but when you looked up and met his eyes you saw they were now bright blue with small slits in them. The blue color was so bright it reminded you of glaciers as they floated in the ocean. His skin twitched under your fingertips as small silvery blue scales pushed through his skin in various places the water was hitting.

“Oh—wow.” You responded, shocked by what you were seeing.

You looked up again and saw small spikey fins that had grown out from the tips his ears. Everything else about him stayed the same.

“Heeseung. You’re stunning.” You said, blown away by what you were seeing. When he released your hand you noticed that his fingers had become webbed too, obviously to help him swim if he was in the water.

He smiled. “You’re not scared right?”

“No not at all just… do you... have a tail fin?” You questioned, giving him an innocent but curious look.

The older boy laughed. “Of course I do. I can just control it better than my scales and fins. It would be quite awkward if I just grew a tail and fell over right now wouldn’t it?” He responded, chuckling again at the image he had created in his head.

You laughed with him at the scenario.

Then he helped you wash and made sure to get all of the wax off your body before also helping you wash your hair. You allowed yourself to be pampered by him even just briefly. You wondered if you’d ever get to see his tail and watch him swim.

After you both finished washing, Heeseung helped you towel dry your hair and get into his clothes before he took you along into his bedroom.

You chuckled as you watched the older boy flop onto the bed and tuck himself under the covers.

“Well, come here darling.” He said, patting the bed beside him and holding up the covers for you to get in.

You got into the bed with him and he opened his arms for you to get comfortable and lay on his chest. You were surprised by how quickly his siren features disappeared after getting out of the water and drying off. It was silent for a moment besides the sound of his heartbeat in your ear

“Are you sure this is okay?” You said, breaking the silence.

“What? Cuddling with me?” He questioned you.

“Well, just all of it.” You replied anxiously.

His arms tightened around you.

“Don’t worry to much y/n. Do what makes you happiest and we will all be happy. You should know that I will— well, we all will do everything in our power to keep you happy.” He replied, his tone a lot more serious now. You could tell he was being genuine.

You nodded, before leaning up to give Heeseung a kiss. Even though it was dark you could tell he was blushing by your sudden action.

When you laid back on his chest, he began to hum once again. Except this time, instead of arousal you just felt warm and fuzzy. His humming enveloped you in a soft blanket of safety and comfort. You felt loved and appreciated and beautiful in his arms, and you weren’t sure you’d ever want to leave them.

The warm cozy feeling Heeseung was creating for you was quick to whisk you to sleep but before you drifted off you wondered briefly how you had gotten so lucky to be sought after by this group of boys. You wondered if this was a dream and if you’d wake up soon. You wondered if you’d figure out what monsters the other boys were, and secretly you hoped you’d find out just like you did with Heeseung tonight.

☾ author note: thank you for reading! this chapter is arguably the tamest out of them all so please look forward to whats to come next! can you guess who is what monster?

chapter two (coming soon)

chapter directory

#kaidasdesires #enha #enhypen #enha x reader #enhypen fic #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #kaidawrites #lee heeseung #heeseung enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x female reader

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threeacttragedy · 2 days ago

Text

Entry 4 – The One About the Red Bag of Chaos

One of the things that never ceases to amaze me about this fandom is that Whenever Something Good Happens it ALWAYS torpedoes into Something Bad Happening.

Every.

Single.

Time.

And, that’s why we can never have nice things.

Case in point: “Brb” and the elusive Red Bag.

On October 4, we were graced with Luke’s Instagram story of luggage with the caption “Brb.” His picture included two pieces of luggage, a small metal carryon case, and a red bag. The red bag was interesting because it appeared to be – let’s face it, we all stereotyped this into being – a woman’s tote bag of some leathery sort. Lukola Sleuths tracked Luke’s image down to the first-class lounge for British Airways. I mean, we even got a not-so-blurry reflection of Luke in the corner of the luggage. We should have been ecstatic, right? Luke had posted two days in a row (with the first post being the cutesy “Mean Girls” reference to October 3), and Nicola had been peppering the trail with Lukola-laced yumminess since early August. I mean, we should have been biting our nails in excitement waiting to see what Luke or Nicola posted next.

But, no, that’s not what happened.

Instead, hysteria struck fast and hard. Why? Because at some point in her relatively short life, Antonia had danced in front of a red bag at – oh my God, wait for it – an airport! Oh, how the Conscientiously Stupid seized this tidbit of outdated information to terrorize the Sincerely Ignorant straight into shark infested waters!

The problem with this plotline was that (a) the video of Antonia was old, possibly even a few years old; and (b) there was absolutely no evidence the red bag Antonia was dancing in front of even belonged to her! The argument that this was Antonia’s red bag was simply one being pushed by assholes who enjoyed riling up the weaker parts of the fandom. And, let me tell you, these assholes succeed every time.

But, what was dismissed and ignored was the fact Nicola had a red bag in the background of her June 15, 2024 Tatcha post. If you need to see it for yourself, the video is still up on her Instagram grid. In the video, there is a shelf full of handbags of all sizes, and on the bottom of that shelf is, what appears to be, a large red bag (we can deduce this by acknowledging (a) it is red; (b) it is on a shelf full of other bags; and (c) it appears so large it needs to be tucked into the shelf). Is it THE red bag? Who the fuck knows? That is not the point. The point is, it is a red bag of some sort, and this fact should have outweighed the argument that the red bag belonged to Antonia.

But, it didn’t?

Why?

Because the fandom enjoys hysteria?

No, I don’t think it does. I’ve spoken to too many people on the verge of a meltdown to believe they enjoy spiraling.

So, what is it that causes good things to go bad so quickly in this fandom?

In my opinion, the answer lies somewhere between (a) the fandom believing that Lukola is too good to be true; (b) the fandom questioning their own intelligence and intuition; and (c) the fandom doubting the two people at the heart of this ship – Luke and Nicola. It’s strange to me that we would rather trust online bullies pushing their own deranged narratives than trust, at the very least, ourselves.

Whenever a Conscientiously Stupid tries to derail you, or an adjacent (ugh, there’s that word I hate again) pops up trying to make waves, take a moment to take a deep breath, roll your eyes, and have a good laugh (because I’m not going to lie, some of the shit that gets put out there is laugh-out-loud funny). But, most importantly, trust yourself and your intelligence because, if you're still in this fandom, your deductive reasoning skills are a chef's kiss.

And, to finish this story about the elusive red bag, just remember that Nicola posted an amazingly happy picture of herself the day after Luke, on an airplane, in first class on Aerlingus, an affiliate of British Airways that shares its first-class lounge. If these weren’t coordinated posts, I may as well say, “Screw it all,” and go live on a deserted island. Alone. With no phone. And no mascara.

Oh, and let me just slip in here that the elusive red bag quite possibly made an intentional reappearance in Nicola’s October 11 Olaplex story. But, I’ll leave any further speculation about that for a different day.

#lukola #luke newton #nicola coughlan #red bag of chaos #my opinion #my thoughts #speculation only

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wonderjanga · 1 day ago

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batman keeps trying to put trackers on marvel's costume, but none of it actually comes off, and the parts he can put trackers on are all like, magical, so they break the trackers and he's so mad about it

Bruce has tried so many ways to track Marvel it’s honestly driven him mad.

First he tried looking for the man using CCTV cameras only to realize Fawcett doesn’t have any. Oh no, no no no, he got the grainy, haven’t been used since the 80s, security cameras. So he ends up combing through all of these cameras because of how old they are because he can’t use the software he normally uses to quickly find people. He also had to do this all on his own because Barbara was busy, and none of his other kids wanted to help him because they all like Cap. And then, when he finally finds the Captain…

Batman: *staring at the Batcomputer intently*

Marvel: *standing in an alleyway* “Shazam.”

Batman: *doesn’t understand what he said, because the audio is too crappy to decipher, but doesn’t have enough time to register that as the cameras immediately cut off*

Bruce nearly… What did Tim call it? Ah yes, crashed out. Bruce nearly ended up crashing out over this. But whatever, right? There’s always multiple solutions to a single problem.

So, he then tried a more simple solution: trackers. Small tiny little things no bigger than his pinky finger. He stuck one onto Marvel’s shoulders as the Captain was leaving for the day.

Batman: “Captain. I would like to say that you fought wonderfully today.” *puts hand on Marvel’s shoulder and places the tracker*

Marvel: “You think so? Thanks.” *sunny ahh smile*

Bruce in fact did not think so, but he needed an excuse to touch Marvel’s shoulder. Anyways, the tracker didn’t even last an hour before he got a notification that it was broken, or rather fried, by electricity. Honestly, that might as well have been Bruce’s fault. One of the man’s major powers is electricity for Christ’s sake. So after a bit, he went and upgraded the trackers to now be electrical resistant.

Marvel: *walking to the zetas*

Batman: “Captain, you own a tiger, yes?” *starts walking with him*

Marvel: “Ah, yes, why?”

Batman: “Robin’s been asking about getting a tiger.”

Marvel: “Oh really? You wanna know some tips or something?”

Batman: “If you’d be willing to share, I’d appreciate it.”

Marvel: “Oh, okay then!” *proceeds to yap about tigers the whole was to the zetas*

Batman: *sneakily tacks the electric resistant tracker on him*

Bruce learned a lot about tigers that day. He never seen the man so informative and passionate about a subject other than magic. If only he’d put that same passion into his reports. Seriously, who alternates between their left and right arm on a professional report? At least do it on a piece of scratch paper or something. (This is a reference to post I saw a while ago about Marvel and Billy writing reports together. Because of that, half of the report was in super duper fancy shmancy handwriting and the other was in chicken scratch)

But anyways, back to the second tracker. See, it actually did the opposite of what it was designed to do, which was track and be resistant to electricity. It actually ended up shorting out and therefore losing its ability to track. Bruce now realized he underestimated Marvel’s electricity.

Now onto Bruce’s third attempt. He had the tracker enchanted with magic.

Batman: “Marvel, I’d like to talk to you about Junior.”

Marvel: “Sure? Is he in trouble?” *sounds concerned*

Batman: “No. You see, Robin’s been wanting to have a play date with him.”

Marvel: “Oh uh… I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” *sounds hesitant* “I’ll have to ask him about it:”

Batman: “That’s fine.” *pats his shoulder and plants the tracker* “Get back to me when you’ve both come to a decision.”

Funnily enough, Bruce didn’t even get ten feet away before he got a notification that the tracker was destroyed. Billy felt the magic in the tracker and honest to the gods he thought it was a bug and swatted his shoulder.

Meanwhile, Billy’s confused but happy that Batman has been talking to him so much recently.

Eventually, after much trial and error (47 attempts) Bruce finally got a tracker that worked. He watched on the GPS as Marvel dipped into an alleyway and… dipped off of the face of the earth? He stared at it for a solid minute wondering if he should be concerned. It’s not like Marvel knows he’s been trying to track him. He has no idea how upset the man would be so he waited. Five minutes passed of Bruce waiting for the little dot representing Marvel to reappear. He then couldn’t take it anymore and started spamming Cap’s comm and was about to notify the other JL members until he finally picked up.

Batman: “Captain? Captain, are you there?”

Marvel: “Yeah? Yeah I am Mister Batman Sir? Is something wrong?”

Batman: “The GPS on your comm showed that you disappeared off the map for fifteen minutes.”

Marvel: “Oh really? Well I’m sorry for worrying you, Mister Batman Sir. I just went to the Rock of Eternity. That’s probably why I didn’t appear.

Batman: “What is the Rock of Eternity?”

Marvel: “Oh, it’s this rock that’s the cent- OH SHOOT.” *loud crash comes from his end*

Batman: “Is everything alright?”

Marvel: “Yeah- look I’m sorry but Black Adam’s here and he just threw a building at me. See ya, Mister Batman Sir.”

So yeah. After everything he went through only to come up with no results, Bruce is mad. Rolling in his grave even. The worst part is that he doesn’t even technically have the right to be mad, considering the fact that he was going behind one of his colleagues back’s and trying to track them without their consent. Though to be fair, Bruce did it because you can’t just have somebody that powerful running around and unchecked without a recorded weakness. But what makes him even more mad is that just when he was about to get the slightest semblance of information, a villain ruined it. At least he has a name now. The Rock of Eternity. It’s probably a magic thing that he’ll end up asking Zatanna about. He hates magic.

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics #batman #bruce wayne

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inkedinshadows · 3 days ago

Text

Under the Summer Sun

Pairing: Azriel x Summer Court!reader

Summary: Azriel's mate takes him on a little vacation in the Summer Court, where she introduces him to a shocking tradition of her home court.

Warnings: none

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: I have one thing to say about this one, and it's that I had no idea where I was going when I started writing. I had a general idea, and that was it. Everything else came to me thanks to little sleep, lot of coffee, too many classes, and missing summer. This fic is really silly and I have no idea how it became this long tbh

@azrielappreciationweek

Azriel had been to the Summer Court many times, but never on vacation. He had gone on missions, of course, and to check in with his informants stationed there. Then there was that one time with his family, which had resulted in a wrecked building and Cassian's consequent ban. The last time he'd been here, it was to defend Adriata against Hybern.

And now, he was here with you. Somehow, you had managed to convince him to take a whole week off. Maybe it had something to do with you batting your long lashes at him, knowing he could never say no when you looked so cute. Or perhaps it was because you had already talked to Rhys, who had agreed that his brother needed some time to relax.

Either way, Azriel was glad you had convinced him. You were staying in your family's vacation house in a little town south of Adriata. The first day was spent in bed, cuddling and making love, getting up only to eat—as you had done years ago after accepting the mating bond. On the second day, you showed him the town and the places where you had grown up. But today would be a surprise. You had refused to tell him exactly what you'd be doing, claiming only that it was a common custom in the Summer Court.

“Are you ready, my love?”

Your voice came from behind the bathroom door, and Azriel glanced at his reflection in the mirror one last time. His half-naked self stared back. You had given him a simple piece of clothing to put on, and you’d been very clear about wearing only that.

Azriel was confused.

It looked like underwear, but it was too long, reaching his mid-thigh, and it was a bit looser around his legs. The deep blue fabric was unusual—soft yet a bit thicker than his regular underwear, and elastic. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but he didn’t understand why you wanted him to wear such a thing. It wasn’t alluring or anything like that. At least, he didn’t think it was.

With a sigh, he opened the door. “Sweetheart, I’m not sure—”

His words died on his tongue as his eyes settled on you. Standing in the center of the bedroom, you were wearing a new set of lingerie he had never seen before. The fabric seemed similar to the one he was wearing, but yours was a shade of cerulean blue that complemented your dark skin. It hugged your curves perfectly, tight enough to cover yet revealing in all the right ways.

“So?” you asked with a smile, spinning around so he could see you even better. “What do you think?”

Azriel closed the distance between you in two long strides, and his hands immediately found your exposed waist.

“You're breathtaking, my love,” he murmured, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. He could never get enough of you—your smooth skin, your soft body, your scent. And whenever you surprised him with something like this, his head felt as if it were spinning.

“I'm glad you like it.” You looked down at your body, brushing your fingertips over the hem of your bra. Azriel wanted to kiss the spot where the fabric met your skin. “It's been years since I last got to wear one of these.”

He had to suppress his rising desire to focus on your words. He frowned at the hint of melancholy that laced your tone. “What do you mean? You can wear it whenever you want.” His fingers pressed slightly into your flesh as he leaned down to whisper directly in your ear. “You look ravishing, sweetheart.”

He felt your body react to his words and touch as it always did—relaxing in his hold, leaning imperceptibly closer. But there was a playful smile on your lips when you asked, “What do you think this is, Az?”

Azriel's frown deepened. “New underwear?”

You hummed, amusement glinting in your eyes. But instead of answering, you slipped out of his grasp. “Let me take a good look at you.”

He grew more confused by the second. You studied him, eyes focused on what looked more like short pants than boxers. Yet there was no hint of desire on your face. Your gaze didn't roam over his body with that intensity that made heat bloom in his lower stomach. You didn't bite your bottom lip, didn't reach out to touch the bare muscles of his chest, and your breath didn't catch as it always did when you wanted him.

“You look so handsome,” you said eventually. Your gaze finally met his, and your amused smile widened at his confusion. “We can go now.”

Azriel blinked, but you were already heading for the door, grabbing a bag from the floor on your way out.

He immediately trailed after you, following you downstairs. His shadows swarmed around him, flying over to tangle in the ends of your hair as if trying to coax an answer out of you. But even they couldn't read minds, and you didn't offer an explanation.

“Go where?” he questioned, watching you put your slippers on. What did you even need shoes for?

“The beach,” you answered, as if it were obvious.

Azriel just stared at you. He was waiting for a punchline or a joke, because surely you couldn't be serious. But when you arched a brow, that smirk still playing on your lips, he realized you weren't joking.

“What do you mean?” he asked then.

“This is not underwear, Az,” you finally explained in an amused tone. “They're swimsuits. Mine's called a bikini, and yours are swim trunks.” You lifted the bag in your hand as if to prove your point. “I have beach towels. We're going to the beach.”

He gaped at you. “You really mean to tell me you want to go outside wearing…” He glanced down at himself, then at you. “Just this?” he finished.

“That's exactly what I'm telling you.” You shrugged, as if the thought of walking around with just a scrap of clothing didn't bother you at all.

“There's no way you're going out dressed like that,” he said firmly. “You're basically naked.”

“I'm not naked!” You sounded outraged, but he could see you were trying not to laugh. “I'm wearing a bikini.”

Azriel crossed his arms. He had never once told you what you could or couldn't wear, and he didn't want to start now. But a revealing dress or a plunging neckline were different from… this. The thought of everyone seeing you with nothing more than two small pieces of fabric made his jaw clench.

“How is it any different from going out wearing underwear?” he pressed.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, falling silent for a moment. “I don't know,” you mumbled. “It's just socially acceptable here to go to the beach like this.”

He thought he was getting through to you, that he just needed to push a bit more and then you'd see how inappropriate it was. Instead, you stood straighter again and adjusted the bag on your shoulder.

“Come on, Az,” you said, your voice low and inviting. “It'll be fun. I've done this a thousand times already. I promise you, it's totally normal here.”

Azriel knew what you were doing. You thought that if you used that tone, if you batted your lashes and looked at him with your big doe eyes, he would cave. Normally, he would. He could hardly say no to you. But he couldn't stand the thought of someone else seeing his mate clad only in underwear. Bikini. Whatever it was called.

“Y/N, that's not the point. I—”

Before he could finish, your lips curled into a mischievous smirk, and you suddenly turned and bolted out the front door before he could catch you.

Cursing under his breath, Azriel quickly slipped on his shoes and followed you outside, not caring about his own underdressed state.

You hadn't gone far, not with those slippers that made running nearly impossible. He caught up to you just as you turned the corner, his hand grabbing your arm, his shadows swirling around both of you to hide your indecent state.

You stopped in your tracks and pointed to the beach just at the end of the short street. “Look,” you said simply.

Azriel did, and his eyes widened at what was probably one of the most shocking sights he'd ever seen.

There weren't many people, but you were right. Everyone—males and females, High Fae or lesser faeries, even the few children—was wearing the so-called swimsuits. And no one paid anyone else a second glance. Everyone minded their own business, either lying on towels or swimming. Some of the children were playing in the sand.

His shadows dimmed under the sunlight, halting their swirling around your bodies and disappearing completely soon after.

“Is it really that normal here?” he asked, a hint of surprise still in his voice. His gaze slowly returned to you.

“This is the Summer Court, Az,” you replied with a chuckle. “What kind of people would we be if we didn't enjoy our sea in this heat?” You took his hand, giving it a gentle tug to make him follow as you began walking again. “Come on. You're a big Illyrian. Don't tell me you're shy.”

Despite his lingering shock, Azriel couldn't help the smile spreading across his face. “It's not that.”

He had never had a problem with nakedness. He'd seen plenty over the centuries, enough not to be bothered by it. It was the idea of willingly wearing nothing more than underwear—and he wouldn't let you convince him that it was anything other than that—and going out in public. More specifically, it was the idea of his beautiful mate going out in public like that. It was a sight usually reserved just for him, and he didn't want to share it with anyone.

“Fine.” You playfully rolled your eyes. “If someone looks at me the wrong way, you can bash his teeth out. Is that better?”

He knew you were joking, but the fact that you were aware of his concern and the way you dismissed it so lightheartedly actually helped him relax.

“It is, yes,” he confirmed, only half-joking. He wouldn't actually do it unless it was an extreme situation, and he knew you could hold your own without his help, but still. He couldn't suppress the protective—and possessive, if he was being honest—streak that was only emphasized by your bond.

“See, this is why I didn't tell you what we'd be doing today,” you teased. You had reached the beach now, and you led him to an empty spot away from the others before letting go of his hand. “Because you wouldn't have agreed.”

Azriel couldn't deny that you were right. It would have taken a lot of convincing and persuasion to get him to agree to this.

Or maybe just your smile.

You took off your slippers and buried your bare feet in the white sand, wiggling your toes through the grains. You breathed in the scent of sea and salt in the air, your eyes closed. And the soft, fond smile that graced your lips as you reconnected with your homeland court made him fall in love with you all over again. It was a smile he’d do anything to see, and Azriel made a mental note to bring you to the Summer Court more often.

He followed your lead and slipped off his shoes. The sand was warm under his soles, and the morning sun heated his tanned skin. He even spread his wings a little, basking in the sensation.

“So, what do we do now?” he asked after a moment.

Your eyes opened, and you crouched down to open the bag you’d dropped on the ground. “Now we set the towels down,” you answered, pulling one out and handing it to him. “It’s probably too small for you, but I don’t have a beach towel for overgrown bats, so…”

Azriel shook his head, used to your endless teasing. You chuckled softly, and after you both placed your towels on the sand—his was, indeed, too small—you took his hand again, walking backward toward the shore and pulling him along.

“Now we go swimming,” you declared, then paused, a small frown creasing your brow. “You do know how to swim, right?”

It was Azriel’s turn to chuckle. “Of course I can swim, sweetheart. I just don’t remember the last time I had to.”

“Well, then,” you said with a smile, rising on your toes to kiss him, “let’s go make some memories.”

Without waiting for a response, you ran into the ocean with a delighted squeal and dove in, water splashing around you. Azriel didn’t move immediately, and simply watched as you emerged, eyes bright and smile wide.

You were the picture of joy.

The last time he had seen you this happy was probably at your mating ceremony, when you had appeared in that stunning teal and gold dress, looking like a vision. And now, as you stood in the water, Azriel was suddenly grateful you had brought him here. Droplets trickled down your body, your brown skin glistening in the sunlight as you moved your wet hair out of your face.

You beckoned him with a hand, and his feet moved of their own accord, guiding him toward you. He inhaled sharply as the cold water reached his thighs, sloshing around his wings. He didn't know how you could look so at ease when he was shivering, but you were in your element after all, while he was completely out of his.

“Aw,” you cooed as he reached you. “Is my little bat cold?”

Azriel grimaced, his tone playful as he pulled you closer. “First you call me an overgrown bat, and now I’m a little one?”

Your wet body pressed against his still-dry chest, and your hair dripped water onto his tattooed skin as you looked up at him. “Well, yes,” you confirmed, stating it as if it were an obvious fact. “Illyrians are overgrown bats, but you’re my little bat.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “You know I’m a head taller than you, right? I’m not little.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but then you closed it without saying a word. Azriel could see the wheels turning in your head as you stepped away from him, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

“What is it?” he asked, knowing that expression all too well. “What did you just think?”

“There's this thing my father always did when I was a child,” you explained. “I loved it, and now I want you to do it too.”

After all the crazy ideas you'd hit him with over the years—this beach day being the latest—Azriel wasn't sure he wanted to know what you were talking about now, but he still lifted a brow. “And said thing is…?”

Your smile widened. “Throw me in the water.”

Azriel frowned. He must have heard that wrong. “What?”

But you nodded enthusiastically, grabbing his hands and placing them on your hips. “Pick me up and throw me in the water. You're strong enough to do it, c'mon.”

His fingers tightened on your hips, but he still wasn't convinced. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you love me and I asked nicely?” you tried, batting your lashes at him.

Azriel chuckled. “I do love you, but you did not ask nicely.” He pulled you closer, his fingers brushing the hem of your panties. Gods, it still felt like underwear to him, and all he wanted was to take them off. “You ordered me to do it.”

You laughed with him. “Sorry about that.” Pulling him down, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Love of my life, my mate, my everything, will you please be so kind as to use your beautiful, strong muscles to pick me up and throw me in the water? It's fun, and I’d really appreciate it.”

He knew you were teasing, but his heartbeat quickened with every word of flattery, even after all these years. “You are unbelievable,” he mumbled, stealing another kiss.

Though he still didn't understand how it could be fun, and wasn’t sure if he even liked the idea, his hands slid up to your waist. He lifted you effortlessly, water cascading off your body as he hoisted you out of the ocean. He hesitated for a moment, but when he saw your excited smile, he threw you back into the water, expecting you to twist midair and gracefully dive in. You had the agility and flexibility for it. He knew you could do it.

But you didn’t.

You let yourself plummet straight into the ocean, your laughter swallowed by the water as you plunged in, splashing it all around. The water was so clear he could see you sink for a moment before you kicked your legs and emerged, grinning from ear to ear.

Azriel stopped questioning whether it was fun or not. It didn't matter if it was childish and silly. After all, he still had snowball fights with his brothers.

All that mattered was the joy written on your face, and as he made his way over to you, he found himself wishing he had a place like this—somewhere he cherished returning to, a place filled with memories of a happy childhood.

“You probably think I'm crazy,” you said as you treaded water. He could still touch the seabed here, but it was now too deep for you.

“A little,” he admitted with a smile. “But as long as it makes you happy, love.”

You looped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer as his hands found their way back to your hips. Pressing your body against his, you rubbed the tip of your nose against his. “There’s something else that would make me happy right now,” you murmured, gazing into his eyes.

Azriel’s smile widened as he leaned in for a kiss, but before he knew it, you had pulled him under the surface. He had adjusted to the water’s temperature by now, but the sudden, full submersion still made him shiver. His first instinct was to break the surface and take a deep breath—something he would have done already if only you had told him what you were planning. Before he could, though, you used your magic to create a bubble of oxygen around the two of you, allowing him to breathe.

“So drowning your mate is what makes you happy?” he asked skeptically.

“Sorry about that,” you chuckled, eyes glinting with mischief. “But the surprise on your face was priceless.”

Azriel lifted a brow, readjusting his wings. It had been so long since the last time he was underwater that it took a moment to remember how to position them properly, preventing himself from floating back up.

You laughed, your hair swirling around you like a shimmering, silver crown inside the bubble.

“No, but it was fun,” you answered. You cupped his face, kicking your feet to swim just a little closer to him. “What would really make me happy is something I’ve always wanted to do, but I need to let the bubble disappear. I promise I’ll summon it again as soon as we’re done.”

Azriel frowned slightly, but he had an idea of what you wanted to do. He could only hope he was right, because he had a feeling you wouldn’t explain it if he asked.

He nodded, and with that, you called back your magic. Water rushed around you again, but this time he inhaled deeply before it was too late. And then you proved his suspicions correct.

You pulled him in for a kiss, and he tasted the salty water on your lips. His hands settled gently on the sides of your neck, keeping you close. As you both kicked your legs to stay submerged, Azriel understood why you wanted to do this. It felt intimate, like you were the only two beings in the entire ocean.

It reminded him of the way kissing you felt when he was flying with you cradled in his arms—the world faded away, shrinking until nothing existed but the two of you.

It lasted only a few seconds, but when you parted, both of you were smiling. As promised, you summoned another bubble as soon as your lips left his.

“That was nice,” he murmured, his voice soft.

“Good, because we’ll definitely do it again.” You stole another quick kiss before pointing toward the endless expanse of the ocean. “I want to go swimming. Do you want to come or would you rather head back to the beach?”

Azriel shook his head. “No, I want to come with you.”

“Perfect.” Your smile widened, and you gestured for him to follow as you turned around. “Then I want to show you the reef.”

He couldn’t help but smile to himself as he tucked his wings in tightly, kicking his legs to keep up with you. Never in his long life had he imagined that he’d one day find himself swimming in the Summer Court, wearing little more than a piece of underwear. But life with you was always full of surprises, and he had no doubt this wouldn’t be the last.

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

#azrielappreciationweek2024 #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel appreciation week #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #sjm #sarah j maas #fluff #fanfiction #one shot

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lilia-calderus-pet-goat · 22 hours ago

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In case you forgot just how impressive the acting is in episode seven of agatha all along, let me take you back again.

Lilia is five hundred years old. Four hundred and fifty? Maybe. When we first meet her, she may be kooky, and she may be strange, and forgetful, but she doesn't immediately seem vulnerable, or lost. She's a grown woman, damn it—and a fraud, a liar. She's toughened with the passage of time in her unique isolation.

And in the next episodes, we see her sweeten here and there—and we see more vulnerable moments—but she still stands on her own two legs. In her dynamic with Rio, for example, or whoever else, she exhibits the 'no bullshit' attitude of her maestra. She's softer, of course, more empathetic, less cynical—like in Alice's trial, where she's posed much like s comforting grandma. But even then, she is a grandma. She is the one who does the comforting, or the one who disapprovingly shakes her head at you and judges your life choices.

But when she talks to her Maestra?

Lilia is a little girl. She's childish.

In no other scenario does Lilia speak with herself center-stage. She always thinks of others first, even in her own trial.

But when she talks to her maestra, she acts like a wounded child, a wounded fawn, who can only focus on her own pain. Who has not yet developed mechanisms for processing her emotions—and who just wants—needs—her mother. And she speaks, and she says things she shouldn't say, floods her maestra with her own grief, overwhelms her with information that Lilia has known as fact for hundreds of years, but for her maestra—it's her first time hearing it. Because the little Lilia on the chair is having her first divination lesson. She hasn't predicted the fever yet. But Lilia can't think of that right now—she's overwhelmed, she's hurting, she's visiting her maternal figure after centuries—and so she's snappy and impatient and vulnerable like a child.

And her maestra knows she can't help it. And she knows that right now, she's needed by her child who is hurting. Who has been hurting—so much fear, even now. She must swallow the shocking piece of information that she and her covenmates, her sisters, her students, her children, will be wiped out by a terrible fever—treat it like a given fact, because she's not the focus right now. Because she needs to be a guiding light for Lilia, even centuries later, because she needs her. Centuries later, she needs her. And she's a tough woman, a no-bullshit woman. She's a thick-skinned, old, Sicilian witch, much reminiscent of my own greek grandparents—those who have lived through so much and so nothing affects them, really. Because 'back in their day' they had 'more serious issues,' like war and famine and plague. This woman lived through the dark ages. And she delivers. She's nonchalant. 'Death comes for us all' - It means, this isn't about me. I have to brush it off.

But I still have to wonder where within her she proceeded to bury that piece of information about her own coven's untimely demise. Not only to focus on future Lilia, but also, later, to keep little Lilia calm and focused. To—knowing all the suffering she'll be going through and the state in which she'll visit centuries later—keep her innocent for just a little time longer. Give her time. Until eventually, she predicts the fever herself.

And how beautiful is it that, after all this time, she sought help in her maestra—?

How beautiful is it that—for the second time—Agatha Harkness is saved by a woman whose empathy was bred by a mother's unconditional love? A woman who sacrificed herself just when she found herself, for no other reason than the fact her mother never stopped putting her first, so now, it was her turn to do the the same for her family—?

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #lilia calderu #Lilia's Maestra #agatha all along episode 7 #lilia calderu analysis #agatha all along analysis

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mercy-misrule · 18 hours ago

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mouthwashing spoilers, discussion of fictional sexual assault, fictional abuse of a disabled person, references to real life injury

This is a weird rambling thing, informed by my own experiences. I am a sexual assault survivor, but I am also a survivor of life threatening accident that left me entirely physically dependent on medical staff with a long recovery time. I am aware that this is not a pov a lot of people have, and it means I'm thinking about things a little differently.

If you haven't experienced the healing process from a life threatening injury, its hard to explain. But here are some thoughts.

So one of the things that I think is interesting about the fandom reaction to Curly is an odd thing I've seen. A fanwork thing where people write Curly as a victim of sexual assault by Jimmy where the result is that Curly is a more sympathetic victim, a 'real victim'.

This isn't all fiction exploring this, and this isn't stated in their texts, nevertheless, it's impossible to read otherwise.

And I get it, I get why people are exploring that as an option, as a concept. Maybe its revenge, maybe its more relatable, maybe it's simply because that's a fictional concept that they want to write. And that's a creator's prerogative. This isn't me criticising what people want to explore.

What bewilders me is that it makes me feel like people missed the hugely sexual implications of Jimmy's assault and continued violation of Curly's bodily autonomy. It's like, folks are you reading this right?

So Mouthwashing has textual sexual assault, it's right there, Anya is the victim of Jimmy's violence. He attempts to take away her life by crashing the ship, he attempts to remove any choice she has in what happens to her body after she reveals she is pregnant.

He does not care about her, it is pointed what a non-person she is in his eyes. He only cares about his reputation, his control over the situation, what people say about him. His job, his prospects, all of which are dependent on Curly.

And Mouthwashing has textual violation of a disabled person's bodily autonomy. Jimmy hurts Curly when forcing him to take his meds, beating him at one point, where in the end Curly is weeping.

A man who wants nothing but control, couldn't control Anya or Swansea or Daisuke despite his best(worst) efforts, but he has absolute control over everything with Curly. Curly is moved without his consent, touched without his consent, treated like an object, like food, tortured, and finally 'saved'...without his consent.

Without a voice other than cries of pain, or hissing laughter, Jimmy has the control he needs.

And look how his attitude changes towards Curly the more control he has over his body. When Anya is still around, he's swearing at him, beating him into needless submission. As the game progresses, Jimmy starts to hold Curly up as this object of salvation, as this vessel through which all of Jimmy's faults and guilt are washed away.

This focus, this obsession, the alternating between berating and violence and idolisation is subtextual in its sexuality. But it's there. Even when you move past the obvious mirror of violence of Jimmy standing over a helpless Curly in bed, hurting him, putting his hands on him.

We already know that Jimmy assaulted Anya while in her bed, she tells Curly this implicitly when she asks about the lack of locks on bedrooms.

What I find interesting about this all is that we do not see the violence Jimmy inflicted on Anya. We see the aftermath, we hear his words, and we see her reactions, but we do not see the act.

And its a very good and frank piece of storytelling, about the mundane horror of day-to-day life living with your abuser. We don't need to see the instigating act, the central piece of violence, because we are seeing everything else.

Whereas, this game is all about witnessing exactly the violence Jimmy inflicts on Curly, and contrasting it with the absolute indifference he has for Anya, his other victim. He fixates on Curly, he's got nothing in his head but Curly, and any other thought that tries to creep in, we watch turn into nightmares that he's desperate to run away from.

It's almost like watching Curly be brutalised is a stand in for the brutality that Anya experiences. Not as a revenge or anything, but as a story beat reminding you that this is happening, has happened, will happen again. Jimmy will always be hurting someone.

But what I think is fascinating is that there is this (I am not talking about shipping. This is not meta about shipping) almost romantic displacement of affection from Jimmy to Curly, shocking in its intensity to the same level of his disdain and apathy towards Anya.

It's a mirror of how Jimmy feels about himself. He views Anya as a failure, not competent, and that's how he is in reality. He puts all his failings on her, he lashes out at her, blames her for Curly's suffering, for his potential punishment.

He praises and berates Curly because he wants to be what Curly was. A respected captain, a person that people are happy to be around. But he berates Curly because Curly isn't what he views as his ideal self. Curly doesn't throw his weight around like Jimmy wants to, Curly is passive and a people pleaser. Jimmy doesn't respect him, even as he wants to be him. He doesn't respect Curly because of the the way Curly gives into him, supports him.

There are so many moments of desperate horror in this story but I keep being drawn back into the unending nightmare of Curly being dependant on people disintegrating around him

Anya withholds treatment, not maliciously, but she does, because it's too triggering for her. And then Jimmy steps in and it's always bad, even when he's not trying to make it so.

Curly lays there and sees the ramifications of his inaction, his cowardice and then is revictimised over and over, humiliated over and over.

The best chance of care he's got is a woman he fundamentally failed, harmed in unbelievable ways and is now being terrorised by the man who hurts them both and she keeps asking Jimmy to hurt him.

And he has to sit there as she does, as she eats the only things that are making his existence survivable, and he's responsible for it! He gets to watch the consequences of his inaction, he gets to lay there and watch a woman die and he doesn't get to do anything else except exist until Jimmy appears again , which is worst of all.

You don't get to pick your carers, at some point. Sometimes it's people you feel a burden too, or people you've hurt, in a hundred different ways. And sometimes it's people who've hurt you and still tell you how much you mean to them, how important you are to them, how much they love you. And they don't stop hurting you or other people and you. Cannot. Stop. Them.

#mouthwashing #captain curly #anya mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing

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jetspikepub · 2 days ago

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No one ever really talks about it in the fandom and it NEEDS to be discussed because it's hilarious to me. I have to ask where all the crazed spike x julia fans come from 😭 like say one thing negative about the ship or ship spike with someone else and there's this one person (who I think owns multiple spikexjulia accounts snd pretends to be different people😭😭) that starts sending their "CAnoN aNd facTuAL eviDencE" with so much hostility

I've also noticed that Julia fans either always hate Faye and/or don't give a damn about Spike's well-being and just want him paired up with Julia even if that costed him his life, which I don't even think Julia herself wanted for him to do in the end lol. It's a little disturbing

Oh trust me, this is a looong story. It's not like we don't see it, we just got tired of it. You're not alone, I give you a warm hug🫂

This user has been terrorising Bebop fandom across multiple platforms since 2022, I think. If you ever see this bitch harassing someone just flag the account or ban it. A collective appeal could do the trick, but it's gonna be like chopping off Hydra's heads. This pain in the ass keeps posting weird commissions on X (Twitter), Deviantart, Reddit, Pixiv (for Christ's sake, please DO NOT search Bebop tag on Pixiv, it's a total disaster in there right now) and edited Bebop wiki, describing Faye as Spike's no 1 enemy and Julia as a goddess of doves and roses 🤢 It's hard to track down every account, the only way to stay safe is to not interact with them and blacklist. "If I ignore it, maybe it will go away" tactics is the best in this situation, don't let them take away your time and emotions, they cannot be reasoned with.

Another thing that bothers me is that stupid localisation of guide books with SpikeJulia nonsence the translators added just because they wanted to and ruined the original idea that implies multiple ways of story perception. I've aready dispelled that "truest lover ever" myth by presenting the original texts from my collection of Japanese books. They fucked up with "love" kanji meaning in Eng and this changed a lot (I did some analysis here and here). Now we can see what happens when these love stories fall into the wrong hands: haters cite it like a Bible in each and every thread about SpikeFaye😩 Also there was a post about some Julia's love letter to Spike (wtf?) written on the back cover of the vol. 6.

I wanted to make a post about it and took pictures of a Japanese edition but forgot. Now it's the right time to dispel another myth.

According to quick translation results, this guide was made to inform fans about some Bebop episodes which weren't aired on regular TV and appeared later on WOWOW (premuim satellite broadcasting) because of censorship.

There was no mention of Julia writing letters to Spike in the original series. It was Spike who gave her a note describing rendezvous point or whatever and she tore it to pieces🤷🏼‍♀️

Just remember: Spike's well-being is up to the viewer. Noone can convince you otherwise if you don't want to and noone has right to insult you. Spike is for everyone 🌸

The situation is so annoying, those who loved SpikeJulia or didn't give a damn about them now hate this. If someone is going to use "SpikeJulia" as a safeword I will understand 🤣

#asks #see you space cowboy

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sunderingstars · 2 days ago

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.✦ ── ✦.

mundanite assembly

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what the stars reveal: interpretative analysis, theory crafting, elation!sampo and erudition!sampo, coining ma!sampo (short for mundanite assembly!sampo) as we speak, and printed!sampo too, small breakdown over windup world (iii), okay just hear me out, post-analysis clarity made me open my third eye for this one

word count: 10.8k

overview: a breakdown of all six mundanite assembly (unknowable domain) stories — “the great lie,” “those remembered,” “resleeved,” “dousing flames,” “printed truths,” and “windup world” — in the context of sampo koski’s potential backstory & identity.

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Introduction

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In terms of Sampo Koski as a character, I’m still not entirely confident that Mundanite Assembly (MA for short) applies to him. Although I detail a lot — and I mean a lot — of similarities between these stories and what we know about Sampo in this analysis, the truth is that his past is shrouded in so much mystery that it could have literally nothing to do with the Unknowable Domain.

That being said, I do hope I can put forward a solid thesis here: Mundanite Assembly may, in a chronological sense, provide information on Sampo Koski’s origins, identity, and backstory through the exploration of small moments in time across different, likely reincarnating, “copied,” or transferable, lives.

(Mundanite Assembly is a relatively new piece of evidence for Sampo theories, so I apologize if I miss any details or lore implications. I’m not too familiar with the Scholars’ Strife or the Second Emperor’s War, so feel free to let me know about any extra information I miss.

Also, a big shoutout to @/ricochetlovebombs and @/anothermtroubls for pointing me in the direction of Rubert and Rubert II!)

I will be referring to the second person “you” perspective of each story sometimes by who the protagonist is (a professor, a memory device, etc.) and sometimes by “Sampo” directly. This doesn’t mean I think the MA!Sampo theory is 100% true, only that using Sampo’s name gets my point across more clearly.

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General Observations

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— Chronology. The Great Lie ➜ Those Remembered ➜ Resleeved ➜ Dousing Flames ➜ Printed Truths ➜ Windup World. There are a few exceptions I’ll explain when we get to them, but this is the general chronology I see these stories taking (as it is the order they appear on screen).

— Chapters of Note. Resleeved (II) and (III), Printed Truths (I), and Windup World (III) are the most important parts for my understanding of Sampo as he relates to MA. Resleeved (II) and (III) deal with experimentation and creation themes, as well as “breaking,” abandonment, and Organic Heart, while Printed Truths (I) sheds some light on the “cell printing” process of copying individuals. Windup World (III), on the other hand, is likely Sampo’s first or near-first interaction with the Tavern, centering on Elation, being used as a puppet, cruel jokes, and the origin of some of Sampo’s current worldviews.

— General Themes and Events. The reason Mundanite Assembly comes across as a giant Sampo lore drop to me is because of the themes and events it includes. Here are a few:

— Focus on truth and lies; being “created,” brought into the world, and/or stolen; being abandoned, discarded, and “broken” multiple times; advanced awareness; inhumane and dehumanizing experiments; Organic Heart; rage, anger, and vengeance, sometimes carried out in full; technological and mechanical links to Curio Hacker; Nihility, Erudition, and Elation imagery; slow shift in worldview to accommodate Elation-aligned vocabulary; focus on money, wealth, and knowledge; entire sub-section about being a thief; explicit interaction with the Tavern, as well as being literally puppeted around for a cruel joke.

— Elation. While this analysis is a departure from my previous, solely Elation-focused theories, I do still believe the Elation has been a large part of Sampo’s life. Just because Mundanite Assembly focuses on a time where Sampo had more to do with the Erudition, it doesn’t mean that Elation isn’t important as well — in fact, there is a pretty strong shift from Erudition to Elation by the end of Windup World (III).

— The time gap after the Tavern is not detailed in MA, but likely includes most of his experiences with the Elation, including how he became so close with the Masked Fools and potentially an Elation Emanator himself.

— Existence. After looking at the stories individually and as a whole, I’ve come to think Sampo has a sort of “curse” on him, a byproduct of his existence that leads him to repeat equally painful and doomed narratives through paradox. While each story may be completely unrelated, they share uncanny similarities in violence, betrayal, and “breaking.” It makes me think, despite certain outside presences, that Sampo is trapped in a “loop” of inevitability, which would be what the Masked Fool is divining in Windup World (III). There is also the chance that he is the “copy” of someone else, like in Printed Truths (I).

— Perspective. While I want to believe each story’s “you” is talking about the same, repeating protagonist due to thematic throughlines and narrative similarities, there are likely multiple perspectives at play here. Resleeved and Windup World for sure feel like Sampo to me, as well as Those Remembered and certain parts of Printed Truths, but Dousing Flames especially seems “outside” the perspective of whoever Sampo is or will become. I will detail what I think the perspective of each section is when I get to them!

— Rubert. Rubert is an interesting case, mostly due to the fact he canonically has a successor — Rubert II — who inherited his memories. I do believe the original Rubert is dead, as per what is mentioned in-game, but Rubert II has a lot more mystery surrounding him. It’s entirely possible that the “copying” mentioned in Printed Truths (I) has to do with copying Rubert himself, and Sampo is the resulting clone. Also, who knows, there could even be a “Rubert III” out there that no one knows about! There are a few incongruences I’ll talk about when I get to each part, and it does mess with the perspective of things a bit, but it’s a theory worth considering.

— Cover Art. The Great Lie is red with a jellyfish hidden within, and is cracked. (Interestingly enough, this reminds me of the Enigmata, and since it links to Sampo’s breaking, it makes me think maybe the Enigmata is why he’s so confusing! Keyword: Lie.) Those Remembered is a locked box with a keyhole opening. (Perhaps meant to symbolize both the Memory Unit and opening of “Pandora’s Box,” so to speak. Key word for “copying” memories: Remembered.) Resleeved features blue — a very notable color — leaves encasing metal insides. (Reminds me of Organic Heart, points towards a new form or “outward appearance” masking the circuitry underneath. Keyword for “reforging” or new forms: Resleeved.)

— Cover Art (Cont.). Dousing Flames looks like a miniature galaxy. (Representative of the discussions of quantum mechanics and theory, as well as the almost vast, unexplainable nature of Sampo’s potential copying and reincarnation. Keyword for hatred, fire feather on day five of the shop event, or the fire in “Cloud of Doubt”: Flames.) Printed Truths is a round puzzle with the last piece fitting into place. (Indicative of the “puzzle” of copying higher existence, as well as Sampo likely trying to gain knowledge about himself and the universe as well. Keyword for money: Printed.) Lastly, Windup World features a clock with its hands and time slots in oddly-sized and placed positions. (Similar to the strange way time and life seems to distort around Sampo, as well as the Masked Fool talking about divining his “future.” Keyword for doll or puppet status: Windup.)

— Repeating Lives. This is a tricky one, because not much of Sampo’s character implies the sort of “life cycles” I end up talking about here — it’s pretty new territory as far as Sampo theories are concerned. However, this lack of hinting could make sense if Sampo himself is confused or unaware about it; especially if, perhaps, this is a byproduct of his existence that is doomed to repeat over and over unbeknownst to him.

— In terms of what does make sense,though, repeating lives or some kind of “cycle” would explain why all MA stories have similar threads and themes despite occupying different times, characters, and biology, as well as why they all end in the same kind of breaking or misfortune. It also explains why the Masked Fool in Windup World (III) is so deliberately taunting about Sampo’s “future” and “divination.”

— There is also the possibility that he, as a memory storage device or “copied” being, is simply simulating or remembering these lives in his memory, with the memories originating from different sources before all finding their way to the same place — him.

— Personally, I believe the Masked Fool’s prophetic “joke” in Windup World (III) may be meant to simulate Sampo’s existence; a cycle doomed to repeat, the way he returns “unharmed” to his seat after delivering what should’ve been a killing blow, and the “nihilistic” nature of not truly having a choice in any of it. The only question is if he remembers all the lives he’s lived or not. (*Cough* Whatever the AetherTurbo Bookmark from the Shop Event symbolizes may be helping him retrieve these memories, likely given to him by the Elation. *cough*)

— If I could sum up all of this, every iteration, every cycle, as one word, it would be: misfortune.

Now, let’s get into the specifics of each part! (I will be formatting them as a bulleted list with some extra explanations.)

.✦ ── ✦.

The Great Lie

.✦ ── ✦.

“The Great Lie” focuses on a professor who, after their students and school turn on them believing Synesthesia Beacons and general knowledge to be evil, finds themself shuttled through a series of academic conflicts that result in an unemployed, broken, and lonely life begging outside the gates of their former workplace. (Notably, this mental brokenness includes repeating the lines “I am a liar” over and over again.)

— The first paragraph mentions the “Enigmata,” which is an interesting choice if we’re viewing MA as chronological and even cyclical. Even more interesting is that it isn’t mentioned again after The Great Lie, becoming too obscured by other forces like Erudition and Elation.

— Takes place at Palonglek University. “You” can be assumed to be a professor there teaching Basic Aeonic Theory.

— Introduces a core discussion about the Synesthesia Beacon, and how “original knowledge” often cannot be accessed, instead being found through the filter of the Beacon.

— “The only thing there was no room for, was knowledge.”

— Starts “in the cold darkness,” a running theme with a few of these sub-sections. This may be able to be interpreted as how Sampo’s life always begins — in a cold or dark place.

— School of Relative Cognition; very Erudition-coded.

— The professor — “you” — stands strong in their use of the Synesthesia Beacon, even when being threatened with dismissal. In the end, they give over their copper ring, either willingly or by force depending on what dialogue is chosen. They are replaced immediately after.

— Despite the “Erudition” front of the school, it seems to be veering into the Enigmata more than anything else, talking about how the Synesthesia Beacon is “evil” and implying the glorification of knowledge is dangerous.

— Some running themes to note: cold darkness, Erudition, Synesthesia Beacons, lack of choice (all options leading to the same outcome), and being abandoned, discarded, or replaced.

— This new situation of dismissal is compared to “a precious flower being uprooted from a greenhouse.”

— The theme of discarding and abandonment continues: the government halts their educational stipend, students cut off contact, and their family leaves.

— Now “you are all alone, forced to become an elementary school math teacher in a small town to survive.” This seems to mirror how Sampo, the lonely character that he is, finds himself in Belobog, a relatively small planet occupying a relatively specific niche.

— Arguments start up among students again, this time over simple, easy information. “You” lose your job once again, and even though there are two choices — write a letter of complaint or accept the fate silently — they both lead to the same end. Nothing changes.

— “Fools” are mentioned in both dialogue options: “Even an ant has a more objective view of reality than this army of fools.” Foreshadowing, perhaps?

— Interestingly enough, even though the immediate situation doesn’t change, the movement of Relative Cognition eventually wanes, but not without leaving its scars. The former professor, now unemployed, without a family, and potentially homeless, is found begging outside the Academy, repeating two significant lines.

— “Aeons are a lie. I am a liar, I am a liar…”

— By the end, the protagonist is not only broken materially and mentally, but spiritually.

— The repetition of lying and “I am a liar” is interesting, as Sampo is often referred to as a “liar,” if not by implication then by occurrences like Ship of Fools that position him outright as “a liar with negative credit.”

Conclusions:

— I am not sure where this fits chronologically — although I am tempted to say it is at the “beginning” of MA since it’s the first one on the screen, “Those Remembered” does seem like a more solid origin to me; of course, it could all be part of the cycle, and perhaps “The Great Lie” really is the first glimpse we see of a repeating “life” since things tend to be reset so often.

— Despite where and when it may fall, this chapter introduces several running themes, especially the cyclical nature of conflict, the illusion of “choice,” and most importantly, being abandoned, discarded, or broken.

— “I am a liar” definitely sticks out to me as well!

— I’m not sure where Rubert fits in here, as this professor seems to carry the same thematic “cycle” as the rest of the stories, but without any solid evidence as to being Rubert. It definitely seems to be the odd one out here, but maybe I’m missing something.

— Thus begins what I posit is Sampo’s repeating “life cycle”: cold darkness to awareness, the seeking or teaching of knowledge, separate “choices” made under the illusion of free will, and a series of conflicts or misfortunes that lead to being abandoned, discarded, or “broken” — either metaphorically or quite literally being killed. (In this case, it is the situational “brokenness” of the former professor’s material, spiritual, and psychological situation.)

.✦ ── ✦.

Those Remembered

.✦ ── ✦.

“Those Remembered” sees a T500 Quantum Memory Device buried and forgotten by the Candelographos in an attempt to save it from being destroyed by the History Fictionologists (affiliated with the Enigmata). In its time deep below the earth, it runs through the entire history of civilization, becoming extremely empathetic towards “humanity” and “civilization.” It is excited to be rediscovered.

— “Your race believes in a legend, that all things are born from chaos.” Reminds me of the Elation, the idea of “chaos” and “creation” having significant overlap!

— Nous is explicitly mentioned, creating this cycle’s link to Erudition.

— “You have waited endlessly in the chaos” — another point for the Elation.

— Once again, we begin in darkness. “Creation” is also present.

— The protagonist assumes the woman who appears is Nous, but she is later identified as Xiaoya, a scribe and student of a teacher who is also present.

— We are also given an explicit statement of identity for this protagonist; they are a “machine,” specifically a T500 Quantum Memory Device.

— Note: I am a bit unclear on the talk of Scepters here. I’m inclined to say the device is implied to be a Scepter, but the way things are worded is a bit weird, so it might not be one after all.

— “It is a life without love…” Although this is talking about the Candelagraphos, I do find the emotion of it interesting. In a way, it could also be applied to machines, to the stereotypes even in HSR’s present day that mechanical beings (like Intellitrons) are cold and unfeeling.

— The perspective warps when the memory device takes in its reflection: it becomes more distant. It’s not that it looks at itself and says “You are a square machine,” but rather that “You see a square machine,” almost as if having difficulty processing its identity as “not a person.”

— This is further supported by the “sudden realization” of identity, with one dialogue option even being to say it’s “A person that looks like a memory storage device.” If you pick that option, the Simulated Universe says it is incorrect.

— Either way, devoid of choice or free will, the machine is a machine, the “most powerful memory storage device to exist to date.” It can record all information on the planet.

— The setting for the first part is specified: The Candelographos research institute on Freya. Our protagonist has been sorting documents for ten years, before Xiaoya and her teacher ran away with it.

— “Your footsteps” is an intriguing phrase. It may be referring to the “group,” which includes Xiaoya and her teacher who are human, but the perspective means it could also be the device’s understanding of itself — still unwilling to believe it is purely a machine despite having no feet to walk on.

— Searching and running away are depicted as similar actions.

— Xiaoya and her teacher plan to bury T500 due to an ongoing hunt by the History Fictionologists; since the device can store all of the planet’s history, they want it to survive.

— “Plus, it’s the only one that exists.” Points to being “one-of-a-kind” (hehe, shop event reference!) and the uniqueness of a mechanical wonder or wonder of creation.

— “Having dug out a crater deeper than the height of a man.” Hmmmm. Makes me think some details are being talked around, so to speak. Footsteps, a human-height hole; despite the “smallness” of the original device, it almost seems as if it has some kind of human form now. It’s not explicitly mentioned, but the implications might just be there.

— Despite whatever dialogue you choose — “Bye” or “I don’t want to leave you” — they leave anyways. There is no choice in the matter, only fate, only inevitability. Once again, the protagonist is abandoned deep in the darkness, waiting and waiting and waiting for a reunion that will never come.

— Starting off in the dark again! (Although it is still a continuation of this “life”.)

— The memory device, spurred by a desire to understand a remark made in the last part, begins to pour over civilizational records, spending ten Amber Eras slowly learning the entire history of the planet, from stone tablets to the rise and fall of entire civilizations.

— Eventually, it reaches the names of Xiaoya and her teacher, realizing that they are long dead and only their names remain.

— “Humanity” and “civilization” are the answers to the question, and the device begins to harbor a deep compassion for them.

— (Note: “fools” is once again mentioned near the end.)

— Naïve excitement at the prospect of becoming known to the universe again.

Conclusions:

— The cycle starts anew: darkness, the illusion of choice, being abandoned. This time, it is advantageous, as the memory device is able to learn and develop compassion for humanity. (Perhaps this is where Sampo’s love for humanity comes from.)

— Due to the time spent underground, I feel like the next story, Resleeved, may be a continuation where the device is “found.” Or, it may be another cycle of life. There are no specific years or times given, so these events could be extremely far apart or incredibly close together. Who knows.

— I am not too familiar with the Scepters as a whole, but from what I can find on the wiki, the context seems to track as a chronological interpretation of MA!Sampo. (I’m still not sure about The Great Lie? Unless it is a prologue or takes place after Those Remembered in time.)

— Here, we see a device be “unboxed” during the time of the Scepters, then sealed deep underground to avoid destruction. As such, instead of being caught up in the conflicts of the time, it is given space to develop empathy, kindness, and enlightenment. I think it would be cool if Sampo is a Scepter (it would explain some of his powers and strange qualities), but the wording in the text is still unclear to me.

— Either way, there’s a large chunk of time where the device is able to sit and develop advanced awareness, much like in the “Ace Trash Digger” occurrence.

— Perhaps this is one of many “lives,” or just an advancing, singular consciousness that goes through a lot. It is also possible that these different events and stories could be simulated existences, things that are a part of Sampo yet aren’t. At the end of the day, my main point is that it’s all cyclical. (Even… Ouroboros in nature… (Sampo outfit and snake reference!))

— As for Rubert, I think this fits in as the “computer dumped in a trash pile” that became self-aware and, eventually, Rubert. Its memory storage very much matches the kind of intelligence that would interest Nous, although the “emotion” of everything doesn’t track. As far as what I’m interpreting, it seems the memory device grew fond for humanity — and by extension, organic life — committing itself to sharing the history of civilization with others. That doesn’t track with Rubert’s motive behind the Mechanical Emperor’s War; in fact, it almost seems to be the opposite. Still, I can’t ignore the thematic similarities. Maybe something happened along the way that drastically changed Rubert’s worldview.

.✦ ── ✦.

Resleeved

.✦ ── ✦.

“Resleeved” documents a thought-consciousness experiment carried out on an unknown participant wherein the subject is assimilated into different species’ biology. After being “broken” beyond repair due to the nature of the experiments, they are discarded, only to be met with yet another experiment — this time a transplant of Organic Heart — that also ends in failure. They presumably die after being shot through the chest.

— This is one of those exceptions where I don’t think the perspective is Sampo’s; instead, it seems to come from an outside storekeeper that has a conversation with (most likely) the doctor that carries out the experiments in Resleeved II and III.

— “… truth lies…” Cool way to include opposites in a grammatically correct sentence!

�� “Fool” mention again. (This is getting to be a lot — I think this is the third time?)

— A scent compared to an “empty, lifeless ocean” is similar to darkness or the cold.

— Heavy themes of experimentation on a cosmic level.

— “How could there ever be truth born from foolishness?” Truth and fools once again.

— The idea of knowledge and wisdom being a “curse.”

— “An equivalent exchange cannot be reversed” also feels potentially pertinent to whatever Sampo has going on with Aha / the Elation.

— School of Evolutionary Perfection links to the perfectionism in The *Perfect* Grand Challenge.

— Generally, it seems that this doctor orchestrated a biological contamination outbreak that resulted in the conditions needed to have access to experimental patients.

— “127th awakening” implies a cyclical nature, potentially the ability to traverse different forms or lives.

— “A new character awaits every time you awake~” feels like it might be meant to represent Sampo’s situation — there are certainly many different situations at play in these stories, yet so many of them seem to carry the same cycle of darkness, experimentation, brokenness, and abandonment. These thematic elements would make sense if, similar to what this doctor is implying, Sampo has the ability to “reset” or occupy different lives in succession. In this way, the cycle would be inescapable, an ouroboros of tragedy he is forced to experience over and over no matter how many times he becomes someone “new.” (Also, this line is repeated several times, giving it some extra weight.)

— The experiment’s name is F0078. This could go back to the idea of Sampo having multiple names; it’s possible that, if Sampo isn’t one of the townspeople from part one, the memory device from Those Remembered was found by some… unsavory people.

— “Scholar, I am so cold” links to darkness and the cold.

— “I can take your thoughts from this experiment to use as the wick for the flames. Next time, I will be able to insert you into the Imperial Fragment.” I feel like this might shed some light on Sampo’s situation. There’s a good chance he personally hasn’t gone through all of these events himself, but rather remembers them as the result of thought combination or “copying.” Similar to the AetherTurbo Bookmark from his shop event, it gives the feeling of having done something without actually doing it. In truth, he might be an amalgamation of all these different perspectives having been used (or fused) into one, compact form.

— The next parts are blanked out, and I find this a little suspicious. It’s simulating the now-broken nature of the experiment — how they cannot process language properly anymore — but that also means we the reader do not get to see what “target species” they have turned into or what the results of the experiment were. If anything, this could be the cloning of Rubert, or even how Sampo got his humanoid form.

— “Endless silence” and darkness.

— “It is as if you have operated for ___ Amber Eras and been once again deleted by every ___.” Again, the blank spots are noticeable here. How many Amber Eras? If it’s ten, that would track with the “ten Amber Eras” the memory device spent processing in Those Remembered. “Once again deleted” could also refer to Rubert’s demise.

— Fortune versus tragedy — in the end, neither matter, because the ending is the same.

— “In the world of ___, emotions and judgments of value are merely absurd.” (The blank here could be Nous, or it could not.) This may also explain the difference between the “compassion” of the device in Those Remembered versus the emotional distance of Rubert and Rubert II. If, somehow, the memory device was the one cloned into Rubert II, then inheriting those memories may have been enough for a drastic emotional shift towards pure logic.

— (While it is possible this experiment is a townsperson, the cover art of Resleeved very much focuses on machinery being covered by an “organic” something, so I am leaning towards the memory device interpretation.)

— “Thought conduit ruptured” makes me think of the memory device too, as I don’t see the doctor wording it in this way if the subject was organic!

— “No longer fit for use” and “I suggest abandoning ___ and destroying all samples of this experimental batch if necessary” links to themes of abandonment, discarding, and brokenness. (Also, interesting how the name is blanked out. Wonder what it could be?)

— The mentions of time, space, and the strange limbo of shattered thought remind me of the Nihility, especially the “Liquid Flame in Void” Curio from the shop event talking about the abyss.

— Overall, in terms of Sampo, I see this as being one of the major experiments that turned him into who he is today; likely the “resleeving” of mechanical parts into an organic form. Whether this has anything to do with Rubert or not is up for interpretation. (Meaning, this “form” could have been how Rubert II inherited Rubert’s memories, or it could be a separate entity entirely.)

— The crying family and strange visitors that the protagonist doesn’t recognize could be the results of the experiment. If Sampo, potentially starting as the memory device, was combined with many different forms or consciousnesses, it’s possible the body he ended up with had a family — or even one of the merged consciousnesses could have one. This could explain why the family is there, but also why there’s no recognition to be had.

— However, “the little blood you have remaining still burns in your heart” feels more organic, but that could also be because he now has an organic form as a result of the experiments.

— Now that I think about it, Those Remembered’s memory device could have been Rubert, while Resleeved could have been a human or other townsperson being combined with said memory device, with the combination resulting in Sampo as Rubert II. 🤔

— “Death is my inevitable fate” seems very cycle-oriented to me, like no matter how many times a loop is repeated, it will always end the same.

— “My longing to survive still burns strong” may also point towards how, despite inevitability, Sampo will always try to keep going (i.e. rewards and costs and deals to survive).

— “A little cardiac burning is not sufficient to halt your progress towards evolutionary perfection” also points towards the mechanical merged with the organic, as if the subject was previously a machine (and one preoccupied with “perfection,” which tracks with Rubert) but now finds themself in an organic form with “cardiac burning” — i.e. a heart.

—The fangs and rust-scented claws could point towards a borisin? I’m not sure how many other intelligent creatures we’ve met would match that description.

— Organic Heart (beating fruit) baby let’s go!!!!!

— For those that don’t know, Organic Heart is a Curio that the mysterious blue-haired entity offers us in the Curio Hacker occurrence; I’ve talked about it in my Simulated Universe Analysis, but Organic Heart here is basically a direct link to Sampo for me! (Which is why I’m quite sure, regardless of any perspectives beforehand, that Resleeved II and III’s perspective is Sampo’s.)

— After having the heart transplanted, the protagonist begins to recover, eventually feeling “too strong.” Plus their blood literally begins to boil, ouch!

— At first, I thought the “Mock Crimson Moon” reference may imply the subject’s new body is borisin, or at least affected in similar ways, but Mock Crimson Moon is actually a Weighted Curio in Divergent Universe that causes enemies to receive Fire DoT “Necrosis” after being attacked by Abundance characters. Due to the subject’s fits of madness under the moon, it is very much still possible there’s some borisin biology going on, but it’s also possible that “Mock Crimson Moon”s specific reference could be due to the blood boiling or the Necrosis of being used in experiments. I’m not entirely sure where to draw the line, but these are my thoughts!

— When the experiment, once again, is concluded to be a failure, the figure from the beginning shoots the subject through the chest. Death is implied.

— I’m not sure what the reference to the Intelligentsia Guild means either, it feels somewhat vague.

— Resleeved (III) may be meant to show a one-off experiment that really did die, but it seems strange that Organic Heart is present given that Sampo’s Curio Hacker occurrence has it too.

— Plus, the allusions to perfection, experimentation, and the melding of mechanical and organic very much line up with some of my Sampo theories.

— Who knows, maybe this was just another perspective added to the consciousness mashup that is Sampo Koski?

Conclusions:

— Heavy themes of perfection, experimentation, and being discarded remind me of Sampo.

— Additionally, the cycle repeats again: darkness, misfortune, abandonment, breaking.

— Resleeved (I) seems to be from an outside perspective, while (II) and (III) are likely the same subject.

— The subject’s disorientation in Resleeved (III) seems to imply that whatever happened in (II) messed with their consciousness so bad they can’t remember the people in the room with them — this may be because of the resulting thought combination between species.

— Many details are omitted at the end of (II), which may imply a connection with the memory device (potentially Rubert) from Those Remembered.

— If the subject really did die at the end of (III), in order for them to continue into the rest of Mundanite Assembly’s parts, they either didn’t really die, started another “cycle” or life, or were assimilated into the growing amalgamation of consciousness that is Sampo Koski.

— I also did want to note that Resleeved very much reminds me of the mythological Sampo, especially pertaining to creation, abandonment, and breaking.

.✦ ── ✦.

Dousing Flames

.✦ ── ✦.

In “Dousing Flames,” Scholar Cholkov and our protagonist are in proximity to the Perpetual Motion Project, which takes place during the Interstellar Energy War and, despite having promise on the outset, is eventually destroyed because it can’t keep up with the costs.

— The setting is Pier Point’s technological research and development department.

— “Research into the possibility of infinite energy sources” reminds me of quantum energy and the Ship of Fools occurrence, where the “broken mask” is mentioned to have made the Kuvida Nebula a dead zone after offering a solution for its energy problem.

— “Honesty just so happens to be a prerequisite for truth” reminds me a lot of the way Sampo handles truth and lies.

— “Another boring line that makes you yearn for sleep,” a little bit Elation-aligned.

— The perspective is of an engineer, specifically one that has made “innovations in the area of material engineering,” even developing a product based on an ultra nanocloth they invented. Someone selling products… sounds familiar.

— Also, the original purpose of the nanocloth was for advertisement printing, specifically to plaster billboards in the sky so people could look up to see them. Also sounds… very familiar……

— However, the product was never truly produced because the higher-ups said, and I quote, “The costs outweigh the benefits.” This may be where Sampo began to become preoccupied with risk and reward, cost and benefit. The sentiment very much mirrors his own in that regard.

— “Permanently solving an energy crisis” again reminds me of “Kuvida’s energy.”

— “It’s time to go to the canteen and recharge” is a specific combination of mechanical and organic, much like the previous experiments in Resleeved. “Canteen” implies drinking (something we know Sampo likes to do), an organic activity, while “recharge” is generally associated more with mechanical devices and electricity.

— The only thing is: I’m not sure how he got from point A (the end of Resleeved, being shot) and point B (here in Dousing Flames, working as an engineer). Perhaps that isn’t something we’re supposed to know yet, though, since all six of these Mundanite Assembly “chapters” are simply small blips in a potentially very long state of consciousness.

— The first paragraph is extremely Nihility-aligned, even reminding me directly of the Horizon of Existence with its monochrome color scheme, infinite expanse, and “boundary line.”

— Despite being clarified as the Technology Department’s “Perpetual Motion Project,” the resemblance is uncanny.

— A Scepter is mentioned, meaning these events are still taking place around when they would be active.

— “But, there shall come a day when the stars will be extinguished.” Very ominous and Finality-aligned!

— The Interstellar Energy War is mentioned, also placing it in proximity to Rubert; according to the wiki, this seems to be around the time right after Rubert’s death.

— You have two dialogue options here, either to express optimism or pessimism for the future of the technology. Notably, the pessimism option heavily features how the Intelligentsia Guild is only focused on profit, as most ideas are ruled “garbage inventions” and likely discarded.

— Already, we have themes of experimentation, abandonment, and, interestingly enough, profit thrown into the mix as well.

— Eventually, the Perpetual Motion Project is declared a failure, and the formerly constructed sails are destroyed since the plan wasn’t worth the costs.

— In this case, the protagonist is the one destroying the sails, although one dialogue option reads “They forced me.”

— In the end, Scholar Cholkov passes away, and the protagonist leaves a flower wrapped in their ultra nanocloth invention in front of his grave.

— Notably, both our perspective “you” and Cholkov are described to have grey hair and wrinkled faces, meaning they’ve both aged considerably. I’m not sure what to make of this; it’s possible that if Sampo is subject to repeating or resetting “life cycles,” then this would be just another one nearing its end, ready to start anew. However, other options are that this is simply another consciousness in the “soup,” a different perspective entirely, or a metaphor meant to show a similar cycle as it happens to a different individual.

— Either way, the focus on profit and “costs versus benefit” is not lost on me!

Conclusions:

— I really want to say I see connections to MA!Sampo here (especially since it takes place during the Interstellar Energy War and ties to him have been present in so many other parts of MA), but it really is possible that this is an entirely different perspective.

— There is, however, still quite a running theme of abandonment, destruction, and even some Nihility in here.

— If this does have something to do with Sampo, I can see his emphasis on profit and risk forming during this time!

— Overall, I don’t see any huge implications for his backstory, other than a potential reference to the “energy” mentioned in relation to the Kuvida Nebula in Ship of Fools.

.✦ ── ✦.

Printed Truths

.✦ ── ✦.

“Printed Truths” introduces the idea of a “printing” project, wherein individuals are copied or cloned into identical forms. When issues of Path power arise, a scholar sets out to find an Emanator to (assumedly) copy. Later, a thief eats a synthetic Curio apple and is sentenced to death. The school that housed the original project moves into a new era of working with the Council of Mundanites (or an association of bright minds).

— Printed Truths (I) is another exception where I feel the perspective is not directly related to Sampo; instead, it seems to come from an outside committee of scholars discussing (more like arguing) over a “printing” project.

— Essentially, this project is meant to “copy” the Path power and memories of specific individuals through cell printing. Most of this text is discussion over how Path powers may (or may not) carry over, mainly attempting to figure out how to get them to match up as they need to.

— Several solutions are proposed as to why this certain copy doesn’t have Path power, like “because the original is still present,” “the problem lies in their memories,” and “perhaps you need to deceive the Aeon.”

— This leads to talk of eliminating “the original,” getting the Garden of Recollection’s help, and even working with The Riddlers. (Keep in mind The Riddlers for later.)

— (Also, note: If I remember correctly, the original Rubert’s death has some mystery surrounding it, as there are a few different ideas as to what happened. Since this grey area seems to be present, perhaps these scholars really did find a way to “eliminate the original.” Just speculation!)

— Eventually, the project is terminated, but not without the scholar in charge of it having an epiphany and realizing she needs to find an Emanator (potentially to copy).

— This scholar does disappear at the end, leading me to wonder if she really did go on a search for that Emanator — perhaps she also found one, and perhaps Sampo is the resulting copy? (Since Rubert was part of the Genius Society, I would also assume he might have been an Emanator as well. 👀)

— This is for sure a Sampo perspective if there ever was one. With how Printed Truths (I) ended, I am tempted to say this might be him as a copy of someone else (likely an Emanator, potentially Rubert). Also, this is a bit of a crack theory, but I do find it really funny that Aha Themself might’ve let Themself be copied.

— Our protagonist is a thief breaking into the farm of a wealthy resident.

— “Bringing the moonlight with you” reminds me of the moon in Resleeved (III).

— Interestingly, fruit is present here, with the thief attempting to steal it and being forced to kill the old man holding it before the old man could fire his gun. The thief then eats it.

— Apparently, this fruit was a synthetic Curio, and when the thief is arrested, the court eventually decides to kill them because of all the research they destroyed in the process of eating it.

— The only way out would’ve been to prove some legitimate change occurred after ingesting the fruit, but the dialogue offers no such option.

— “My digestive system has run smoothly” reminds me of a machine “running” or “processing.”

— It also reminds me of Sampo mentioning how to complain about your dinner in the shop event, as “complaining” about the apple may have saved the thief’s life in this instance by producing worthwhile information.

— “… comically murdered by you.” Elation is beginning to seep in to these stories more and more.

— The time is implied to be around the Scholars’ Strife.

— The thief is then shot through the head, and synthetic Curio technology remains unavailable. I find this interesting because in Sampo’s pop-up event, we are literally helping him create synthetic Curios. A little irony, if you will.

— My main confusion is that, although the thief is not explicitly said to have died, getting shot in the head with a bullet sure implies it. Once again, I’m not sure how Point A connects to Point B. This has Sampo written all over it, yet the thief still dies at the end. The only explanation is that either Sampo has a way of coming back to life, “resetting,” or something similar.

— Or, perhaps since Organic Heart has been involved in all of these experiments (like in Resleeved and this section of Printed Truths), if it somehow found its way to Sampo maybe he got the memories of everyone involved. Just an idea!

— In this section, a young scholar named Chrystella attempts to get older scholars to listen to her thoughts on age, passion, knowledge, and “research pragmatism.”

— These dialogue options stick out to me: “The mysteries of infinite space-time?” “True ultimate intelligence?” “The engine of a perfect society?” I don’t have many deep thoughts, but I just wanted to point these out.

— She also mentions how the scholars once “chased Arblad out,” which means this is the same setting as Printed Truths (I) but at a later time. Presumably, the chronology goes in sequence: (I) shows Arblad discussing the printing project, (II) likely shows a resulting creation disrupting the Curio process, and (III) shows the School of Pure Creation moving into a “new era.”

— “Perhaps we do not need to completely drain this school of its blood. Maybe we just need a little transfusion.” Reminds me of Resleeved’s experiments, especially (III) when it specifically mentions blood. Might be a mirror to what happened in those experiments, “transfusion” of consciousness rather than complete draining, or maybe it’s nothing.

— The Council of Mundanites is also mentioned by name, which also links to the name of the entire Unknowable Domain section “Mundanite Assembly.” Essentially, the Council, and especially the name of Mundanite Assembly, is likely meant to convey the converging of the brightest minds in the Guild. On a larger scale, perhaps all six of these “chapters” are meant to represent the wonders of creation that occurred during this time period, complete with Rubert, the Scepters, and whatever or whoever Sampo ends up being.

Conclusions:

— Printed Truths (I) and (III) are likely outside perspectives of scholars in the School of Pure Creation, relating specifically to events surrounding “copying,” cell printing, and the creation of individuals who share the same physiological functions. I believe Printed Truths (II) to be the perspective of a resulting creation, perhaps the copy of an Emanator or even Aeon Arblad was able to make after she left in Printed Truths (I). With this perspective explicitly being a thief, as well as the “comical” aspects of the situation, I believe this perspective to be related to Sampo if not Sampo himself.

— The only thing that doesn’t make sense is the death at the end of Printed Truths (II), but I suppose that could be explained by Path, Emanator, or otherwise experimental power. It could also be explained by Organic Heart, which may have memory-storing or transferring properties.

— Printed Truths (II) also takes place at night (darkness), and through a series of ironic misfortunes leads to death or otherwise “breaking.”

— I am not sure how this all stacks up to the Sampo we know today, but I do think the similarities are there. (Again, large gaps of time and all.)

.✦ ── ✦.

Windup World

.✦ ── ✦.

“Windup World” chronicles a butterfly effect death that occurs during an attempt at revenge, where the protagonist is burned alive while watching and waiting to see what happens to their nemesis, then into a “paradox” of code during an experiment where a Scepter tries to predict the end of a miniature civilization. Eventually, a Masked Fool at the Tavern uses our protagonist for an “opening act,” making them divine their future as a wooden puppet in the palm of the Fool’s hand, then eventually “kill” themself in front of a live audience.

— This is where we get a bit “red-string-board”y, so buckle up!

— This is another perspective I see as being Sampo, and here is where I think things start to come together.

— First, my thesis: Despite all the deaths that occur throughout Mundanite Assembly, I believe the protagonist (Sampo, in this case), has memories of Resleeved, which causes him to enact revenge on the doctor who subjected him (or who he remembers to be him) to those experiments.

— This revenge could, in all actuality, be towards someone else or a random different plot point, but this is what I feel connects Mundanite Assembly’s different parts the best.

— As for the story itself, it details the protagonist approaching an old scholar (potentially one we’ve seen in another part) and asking for help with revenge.

— The old scholar refers to himself as a “relic of a past generation,” which implies he might be the older scholar from Dousing Flames (III) — in this case, Dousing Flames may not be Sampo’s perspective at all, but rather the one of the scholar he eventually comes to for revenge. Just speculation!

— However, the man is also implied to be… more than human, in a way? The butterfly effect is heavily referenced here (as it has stood in the background for most of these stories), and the man seems to know exactly what to do to help our protagonist start the fire that eventually engulfs both them and the target.

— “Expanding and contracting, taking in a releasing, like the wings of a butterfly or the spinning of a loom.” This doesn’t seem very “normal” to me, so it’s possible this old man is a special case or even someone with Path or Emanator power.

— “With faith, the removal of a single nail can topple an entire empire.” Very big implications, perhaps speaking from experience? I feel like it’s referencing Rubert’s empire, but not exactly from the perspective of Rubert himself.

— A crow is nestled on the windowsill; reminds me of the bird from Everlasting Hatred.

— “A perfect assassination” occurs, and through the butterfly effect the protagonist’s nemesis is burned alive, though not before the flames reach the protagonist and burn them alive too.

— Again, death occurs, but it still feels very… Sampo to me? So much of his character revolves around hidden hatred, betrayal, and implications of revenge that it seems strange to me that, if Sampo is involved in MA, this wouldn’t be at least tangentially related to him. Perhaps the old man really was him instead? Or again, if he can “reset,” perhaps he is just moving onto his next “life.”

— Once again with inevitability, as no matter what you do or what you choose, it all leads back to the butterfly effect, back to the flames and death.

— Interestingly enough, the “Cloud of Doubt” Clown’s Item shows a door burning, similar to the protagonist burning alive here.

— It also seems to say something about how this protagonist went so far to achieve revenge that it destroyed them too, much like Icarus flying too close to the sun.

— If this isn’t Sampo, I feel like it is at least a warning he should heed in the future.

— This part deals mainly with “predicting” the end of a miniature civilization (Sandpit Civilization 013) with the help of a Scepter.

— “You think that this so-called legacy is enough to filter clarity from chaos?” What is the legacy here? It reminds me a bit of “Rubert’s Legacy” that Rubert II inherited.

— “The trigger of this great war is the death of a governor’s concubine in the Second Empire, who drinks poison. The war ends 17 years later as it is proven that her cup was never poisoned. The source of the poisoning was a copper label that was inside the barrel that dyed the entire barrel’s content jade green.”

— This is a particularly notable quote because the dialogue options are either, “What an absurd story” or “It’s like looking in a mirror.” Assuming that our perspective here may yet again be Sampo (or someone directly related), we now know that something about this story is connected. In the protagonist’s eyes, this “fake poisoning” due to misdirection — or rather, false assumptions made based on appearance — is relatable to their own situation.

— For Sampo, I wonder if this means he has been mistaken for someone horrible before, despite the fact it’s all on the surface. Appearance-wise, this could be because he shares an appearance with Rubert or even Aha Themself, leading people to assume the worst of him despite the fact the majority of what he shares is in harmless appearance (or what he perceives to be so).

— It is also possible that this is meant to imply certain conflicts or wars were not always what they seemed, and who may have been deemed the “bad guy” may have only been based on false assumptions.

— Additionally, when the protagonist specifically attempts to use the Scepter to predict the future of Civilization 013, it malfunctions and extrapolates out into a “mess of code” that, if deciphered, would cause a “paradoxical loop.” Again, hear me out, but what if our protagonist (Sampo) is meant to be referenced by this code and “paradoxical loop.”

— I’m starting to think that maybe, as a result of the cloning process or something similar, he created a paradox within the universe simply by existing, causing him to loop over and over (potentially like Resleeved’s experiments, the thief’s death, and the “revenge” death). This could also explain the thematic commonalities of misfortune, butterfly effect, and breaking — no matter what he does, the paradox is inevitable.

— Things also go back to normal when the other person present, Prados, intervenes. Although he does things a bit differently and the gist is that there is some interference with the Scepter itself, it still interests me that the “paradox” exists for our protagonist only.

— “This is editing” also implies messing with the base function of the device itself. (A bit similar to “printing,” might I add.)

— The “answer” is also implied to be linked to Terminus, and yeah, I haven’t mentioned it much yet but the Finality is definitely at play throughout all these stories. It makes me wonder how it works into everything.

— The edited version is published, and Civilization 014 begins.

— I do want to note the numbers here; they could mean nothing, but it also makes me think of “loops.” Leaving out The Great Lie as a potential prologue, there are thirteen stories from Those Remembered (I) to Windup World (I). Windup World (III) is number fourteen. Again, it could be nothing, but it just makes me think of cycles, and stories, and how the paradox of 013 is ignored in favor of marching straight on to 014. Just something to think about!

— Finally, we have reached the main course! If I had to pick only one story I thought was directly from Sampo’s perspective, it would be Windup World (III) without a shadow of a doubt. Actually, when viewing it through the lens of MA!Sampo, it ties up things quite nicely (at least for Star Rail, who loves being cryptic).

— Generally, here is what I’m picking up: Masked Fools, World’s End Tavern specifically, potentially Sampo’s first time at the Tavern, being puppeted around for a joke, death and “breaking,” divination and predicting the future.

— We start off in what can reasonably be assumed as the World’s End Tavern, watching a Masked Fool introduce a new comedy. Given the “confusing and bewildering” qualities of their voice, as well as the confusion expressed by our protagonist throughout this section, I also believe it may be their first time here.

— The Fool also mentions they have retrieved “a lost period of The Riddlers’ history and edited it into a miniature comedy” for the Tavern’s entertainment. I find this intriguing because The Riddlers have been mentioned all throughout MA, especially in Those Remembered when the memory device was hidden from History Fictionologists.

— Additionally, Printed Truths (I) sees the team wonder about working with The Riddlers on the cell printing project; I wonder if that part actually ended up happening.

— “Lost period” of history also catches me, because it again reminds me of how the memory device and potential resulting copies seem to be left behind, discarded, or lost for large periods of time. “Edited” also goes back to the idea of cell editing and prediction editing.

— It almost makes me think Sampo is meant to be the subject of this; that, despite being the opening act, the comedy was always implicating him in a way. He was always the main attraction. Or, perhaps, he was simply meant to “open” for it in the way that period of time blossomed into its own “butterfly effect” of tangentially-related events like the rise of Nanook far beyond the original war.

— Dialogue options: “I want to glimpse the foul deeds to the Gods,” “I wish to admire the folly of a genius,” “I wish to taste the rage of an actor.” All of this seems to be present throughout MA, and I feel like it relies on general themes — wonders and unnatural experiments, genius taken too far, projects created and fought over and discarded, revenge and rage from hurt parties.

— (It is possible that when the masked man says, “your requests shall be no challenge,” the resulting actions are simply meant to be just that: a recreation of the general themes of Mundanite Assembly’s timeline. However, I feel things are rarely that simple with Star Rail, and much of the specific wording and implications of this scene are… a lot for Sampo, so I think it may be a double-meaning kind of situation. As Sampo loves to so often do, there’s a good chance that this scene is meant to be symbolic of something he maybe doesn’t even know about himself.)

— A beam of light puts him in the spotlight; the main attraction, if you will.

— “Shocked, you realize that you have been transformed into a wooden puppet in the palm of his hands.” Links to Sparkle’s light cone where Sampo is a puppet, as well as all of *gestures vaguely* everything Sampo has going on with Doll Theory. Simply put, he has many implications of lack of agency and being “puppeted” around, so this situation makes a lot of sense in that regard.

— “You are a scholar who firmly believes that the future is a code that can be calculated.” Beyond the general ties to the MA time period’s obsession with knowledge, this also connects to Curio Hacker and the pop-up shop’s day seven Curio with code in the background. This line may also be alluding to Sampo as someone who is or used to be someone with a similar mindset.

— “Why can it not be a drink glass or a star chart?” The drink glass is notable due to Sampo’s habit of liking to drink.

— The protagonist then goes from a “scholar” to a “babbling, eccentric diviner,” and the Fool mentions how it’s a little “heavy-handed” but better than that “old pedant.” Could be nothing, or heavy-handed could be a double reference to Sampo’s identity and old pedant could be a reference to Rubert or the other, specific scholars we’ve seen. In fact, it could even be a way of saying Sampo, as a copy or clone, may be “better” or more “fun” than the original.

— Here comes the big part.

— “Divine your own future,” the Fool says.

— In the context of the “joke,” this could be a shallow pretension, but it could also be an order. If this Fool possesses Aeonic, Emanator, or even Path power, they may have the ability to genuinely have someone see into their own future. Everything from here on out could, conceivably, be Sampo genuinely predicting his future.

— So, what is divined? Death, as always. The star chart says the protagonist will die in the Tavern in one minute, by their own hand.

— The Fool asks what our protagonist will do. The dialogue options are: “I will take my own life,” “I have to take my own life,” or “Why don’t I get a choice?”

— “You,” apparently, have been drawn into the trap of Finality. After strangling themself and exploding into a colorful burst of stars in front of everyone, the protagonist returns to their seat, unharmed.

— “Though a healer can heal themselves, a diviner cannot tell their own future. If our universe is but a great diviner, once they glance their own destiny, would they not simply end their own lives?”

— The Fool then introduces “The Decline of Quantum History.”

— Man, that’s a lot! In terms of Sampo, if we are interpreting this as a potential, true divination of his own future, here is what I think this is saying: he is trapped in a cyclical loop — or “paradox” — of misfortune, death, and “breaking.” He does not have a choice in this. Despite, for the first time in MA, actually asking in awareness, “Why don’t I have a choice?” there is still no choice to be had. He hurts himself, simply by means of existing. It is visceral, and inescapable. He may have the ability to “reset” or “heal,” but telling his own future is a different ballpark, and knowing — truly knowing — the extent of his repeating fate would cause nothing but depression and despair. His end will likely happen due to his own “butterfly effect” decisions.

— It is also possible that, if Sampo really has nothing to do with this, he is instead the Masked Fool playing the joke, although there is no way to know for sure.

— I am still leaning towards our perspective as Sampo, though, if not just because of the being turned into a literal wooden puppet.

— Perhaps this puppet is itself a symbol of prophecy, as Doll!Sampo could still be a very real thing in the (potentially large) time gap between Windup World (III) and present day. In that case, Sampo being turned into a doll (or doll equivalent) by Aha could be similar to him being “stolen” or even “reset.”

— Overall, yeah, there’s a lot to be had here! Also, I just want to say how fucked up that joke was. It makes me think Sampo’s view of treating everyone with dignity and looking sideways at the Fools may have to do with this event, or something close to it. After all, if he was used for a joke like this — literally made to kill himself (approximately) for the entertainment of others — I feel that would shift his views quite a bit. (Though, we still don’t know how he felt after: Traumatized? Angry? Elated? Free? Maybe all at once. Sure makes for a compelling soup of emotions to convince him to keep coming back to the Tavern.)

Conclusions:

— Windup World (III) may be Sampo’s first time at the Tavern, being puppeted around for a joke having, potentially, to do with his identity or previous identities intertwined with the events of Mundanite Assembly as a whole.

— The “joke” itself may even have a double, prophetic meaning for a cycle he finds himself trapped in or actions he will take in the future, such as being treated as a toy or dying by his own hand.

.✦ ── ✦.

Extra

.✦ ── ✦.

— “Pusuit’s End” is what you get after completing all of Mundanite Asembly. It’s a key, and can be used to increase heat in the Workbench of Creation. Personally, I think it could refer to several different things (like Polka Kakamond or other members of the Intelligentsia Guild / Erudition), but if we’re talking about what’s most relevant to MA, I have a feeling it could reference Arblad’s “printing” experiment.

— “The infinite layers of nutshells encase the ruler of the universe, yet even so, she continues to turn the key, opening the next door indefinitely.” This sounds similar to Arblad’s determination to copy Path power in Printed Truths (I). “Pursuit’s End” may hint at her finding a way to achieve what she wanted, and increasing the heat at the Workbench of Creation could further strengthen the connection between this item and “creation.”

— In the case of Arblad, Sampo might have been this “creation” that finally achieved what she wanted — or, simply one in a long line of attempts.

— “Imperfect Scholar” is the achievement you get for completing Mundanite Assembly. I think it moreso deals with the general themes of the era, but “imperfect” also reminds me of The *Perfect* Grand Challenge’s focus on perfection!

— Just wanted to make a note of this!

.✦ ── ✦.

Conclusion

.✦ ── ✦.

Overall, what do I take away from all this?

— Perspective. I believe, at the least, Windup World (III) is from Sampo’s perspective. If we’re going with a “copying” or printing theory beyond that, I would say Those Remembered, Resleeved (II) and (III), Printed Truths (II), and Windup World (I) are his perspective. This would account for the memory device’s (potentially Rubert, an Emanator Sampo could have been copied from) experiences, as well as the experiments with species changing and Organic Heart’s transplantation, the thief’s consumption of (assumedly) Organic Heart and their eventual death, and the butterfly effect “revenge” death of being burned alive. Windup World (III) would bring things together into a more present-day situation, where Sampo may or may not have these spliced memories.

— I am also inclined to believe Windup World (II) could be his perspective because of the paradox code.

— This means The Great Lie (which I am still not 100% sure on), Resleeved (I), Dousing Flames, and Printed Truths (I) and (III) are outside, non-Sampo-related perspectives taking place as context for the events of the experiments going on at the time. Arblad especially is notable, since she presumably left to find an Emanator to copy.

— Timeline. If we are going with the most robust theory for MA!Sampo, I would say that he, in this form now, was created in between Printed Truths (I) and (II) when Arblad likely found someone to copy. If this someone was Rubert, then Sampo — again, Printed Truths (II) — would have the memories of Those Remembered and Resleeved (II) and (III). Going forward, he would die after eating the apple, but, perhaps due to some kind of paradoxical existence, find himself back in the loop of consciousness for Windup World (I). He would be burned alive, then returned for either Windup World (II) or Windup World (III), depending on how much (II) might actually apply to him. Then, Windup World (III) would be his first time at the Tavern. In the time after, he likely became more familiar with the Fools, leaving room for Elation-centered events like gaining his mask, becoming an Emanator, or even potentially being turned into or treated as a doll by Aha.

— Themes. Generally, MA sets up Sampo with a horribly tragic cycle of mistreatment. Abandonment, loneliness, hopelessness, darkness, dehumanization, death, and “breaking.” It’s all there. The worst part is he can’t even seem to escape it, much less understand it. The butterfly effect prevents him from finding a different path to take, inevitability chains him down, and the loop of it all makes sure it happens over and over and over again. No wonder that Fool remarks how the universe would kill itself if it knew its own future. If MA!Sampo, Printed!Sampo, or Rubert!Sampo (RubertII!Sampo? RII!Sampo? R.II!Sampo? What’s a good name for this? LOL.) ends up being true, then his story is incredibly bleak. His future is incredibly bleak. Perhaps that’s why he’s with the Elation — potentially with Aha Themself. He just wants to find a way out.

— Thanks for reading this far, I hope this made more sense than my Pop-Up Shop Analysis (I felt like I had a clearer head writing this)! Hopefully it’s also been able to put some things in perspective. I’m not completely sold on this (or any) theory because of how much wiggle room there is, but I feel like it could at least be a solid one to add to the more popular theories! Anyways, I’ll leave you with some key questions to think about!

.✦ ── ✦.

Key Questions

.✦ ── ✦.

— Who is Sampo? Is he a cell printed copy of an Emanator or Aeon (potentially Rubert or Aha)? Is he a mesh of mechanical and organic creation, doomed to repeat loops of misfortune due to the paradox of his existence? Is he an experiment gone wrong?

— How does Sampo’s “consciousness” work? Has he inherited the memories of past experiments or copies? Does he have partial or full amnesia?

— Which parts of Mundanite Assembly might be memories Sampo has? Those Remembered? Resleeved (II) and (III)? Printed Truths (II)? Windup World? If so, which might be memories simply “copied” over, and which are memories he himself has experienced?

— Are the Masked Fools helping or hurting him? (Or, perhaps both?) Are they helping him free himself and release the bottled up despair of being trapped in a horrible loop? Or are they leading him further into a cycle of self-harm that can only end horribly?

— What might have happened “in between gaps” of time, especially after Windup World (III)? Was he noticed by Aha afterwards? Has he since become a “doll,” or even been stolen?

— How does the Finality play into things? It’s mentioned quite a bit in MA, but how does it slot in with the Erudition, Elation, or even Sampo’s specific situation?

— thanks for reading to the end !! :)

— an extra meme i couldn’t fit in this post!

#⌞ ✎ sunder.writes ⌝#⌞ ✧ super.nova ⌝#⌞ 🎭 ⌝#hsr #honkai: star rail #sampo #sampo koski #sampo hsr #hsr sampo #sampo honkai star rail #hsr analysis #hsr theory #honkai star rail

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plaest2k · 2 days ago

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hey, im a young nz artist too and i like making comics/want to do something bigger when im older, and i think your stuff is genuinely so fucking cool. i love it so much. i was wondering how you pursued art after highschool, like did you go to art school? if so, where and what was that like, and if not, how’d you find the time to continue doing it? its always felt like my opportunities for a career in art specifically seem smaller living in nz, but idk your stuff inspires me to think otherwise. thank you :)

kia ora!!

thanks so much for asking, it's truly so flattering that a young nz artist would ask me for advice! <3 sadly i might not necessarily be the best person to ask...

First of all, it's been a loooooong time since i've been a young artist hahaha I'm 32. After high school, I studied architecture at university because, as you're probably aware, we don't really have art schools like our peers do overseas. But after studying for a few years, I had a major depressive episode and dropped out. After that, I ran away to Korea to teach english for a year before coming back to work in cafes for about 6 years. Back then I was pursuing a career in editorial illustration cause that's what all my favourite artists were doing but I didn't realise that it was a dying industry at the time and there weren't exactly lot of full-time professional artists here who could have warned me...

So after about 10 years of trying to piece together some kind of profession in illustration, I ended up looking for a tattoo apprenticeship which was looking pretty promising but my bosses turned out to be not-so-great people. I tried to keep tattooing on my own but that was around the time COVID hit which wasn't (and still isn't) great for a job that requires you meet face-to-face with a lot of people. So, since the pandemic began, I've just been subsisting off of jobseeker, chipping away at comics and the occasional illustration gig.

The whole experience had me perpetually burnt out for the past ~15 years and made me realise that art as a career really just shouldn't be a thing. Under capitalism, it requires either an embarrassing level of compromise, privilege or luck to pursue. All the household-name artists you know in NZ either come from privilege or got unbelievably lucky. I don't say this as a value judgment or anything, most of them are truly wonderful people, it's just what I've learned about them as colleagues who've worked together a few times over the years.

I don't fault anyone for wanting to pursue that, but if you want to make uncompromising art that makes you feel fulfilled, you can't stake your livelihood on it. Art is supposed to be a by-product of life well lived, not content to be sold.

It's why I'm making plans to go back to uni next year to switch careers into a cushy office job because, as you've observed, even if you still want to pursue this as a full-time career, opportunities for artists in Aotearoa is extremely limited.

Having said all that, there's still a lot of nuance to this whole thing that would take me too long to cover in a tumblr post, so if you'd like me to elaborate or anything or have more questions, you're more than welcome to contact me through my email: [email protected]!

And this offer extends to literally anyone who might be looking for advice or just wants to talk about art <3

Final thing: the thought of studying something else at college/ university and keeping your art as a hobby might sound bleak when you're young, but life is so much longer than you think. You might feel like you have limitless creativity and ideas at the moment but when it becomes your entire life, you burn through it all faster than you'd think. It's because you need fuel to inform what you make and you can't get that from just making art. Like I always say, art is a by-product of a life well lived; You need life-experiences; You need to love, hate, care, be hated and loved to make art and you can't do that if you're too busy to do any of that. Those 3 years you spend on a bachelors is nothing in comparison to a lifetime of staring at a blank page, agonizing over what to make next.

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shaunamilfman · 11 hours ago

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the ghost you dressed up as [7]

pairing: Jackie Taylor x Shauna Shipman x r summary: "Things may have gotten a little out of control. Time to deal with a few loose ends." note: GRAPHIC depictions of violence. I'm backkkkkkkk masterlist

You really hadn't intended for things to go as far as they did. It hadn't even been a thought in your mind when you made that snarky little comment about Travis, but before you knew it, the whole school was repeating it. The words had been twisted, exaggerated, and shared through so many mouths that they barely resembled what you'd initially said, but they were undeniably your words.

Mari was definitely to blame for a lot of it–she was always the first to start gossiping, to spread a rumor. You should have known she'd spread that little piece of information all over the school by the end of the next day, but you hadn't been thinking clearly. It was almost impressive the way she stirred the pot just to watch it boil over. You'd handed the ammunition right to her. You shouldn't be surprised at what she's done with it.

It was a knee-jerk response, an irritated quip in response to his stupid little comment. Yet, in just two weeks, he's effectively taken your place as the school pariah. Not that he's seemed to notice much, in all honesty. He walks around with that same broody expression he always does, sneering at all the same people. Maybe he didn't care, in truth. It finally gave some credence to the way he walked around the school like nobody understood him. He finally got that isolation he'd obviously been so desperate for.

You wouldn't wish that on anyone, but he's certainly one of the people that you wouldn't go out of your way to stand up for. You wouldn't say he deserved it, no one did, but you certainly weren't losing sleep over it. You've had more than your fair share of unfortunate run-ins with him while he waited for Coach Martinez to be done with practice.

Then there was Jackie. Your wonderful, conniving girlfriend who jumped on the chance to turn the blame away from you. Shauna was a driving factor in it, but you suspect her involvement has as much to do with protecting you as it does with making Travis pay for insinuating only a man could be the killer. As the one who'd done the majority of the kills, she'd taken personal offense to that comment. So now Travis would have to as well.

You're sure it had started with Shauna simply losing her temper, but Jackie had turned it into something devious. They'd made sure to be overheard talking just a little too loudly about it while waiting for you to get out of class. Everyone knew Shauna tended to stay out of gossip if she could, which didn't bode well for Travis. If even Shauna Shipman was saying something–if she was getting involved in it–then it had to be true, right?

Poor Travis had no idea what was coming for him until it was too late.

You can't find it in yourself to be too concerned about him, especially as Shauna starts to climb over the center console into the backseat with you. The car rocks back with her movements, nearly causing her to face-plant into the floorboards before she manages an ungraceful crash onto your lap instead.

Shauna glares at you, half sprawled across your lap, as you can't help but laugh. She mutters curses under her breath until she fully settles onto your lap.

“Shut up,” She mutters, her usual venom softened by the faint blush on her cheeks and the way her hair falls messily around her face. Her eyes burn with the slightest hint of embarrassment, softening slightly as you reach forward to brush the hair out of her face.

“You good, Shauna?” You tease, resting a hand on the small of her back to keep her from leaving. Sure enough, she almost immediately starts to pull away as the words hit her ears. She rolls her eyes, another irritated huff leaving her lips.

“Do I look good?“ She snaps, but there's no real heat behind it. Especially as she makes no move to try to leave your lap again, how she makes no move to brush your hand away. She stays in place, her head tilting slightly as she weighs the benefits of allowing you to keep her like this.

Shauna's all embarrassed. You grin. The sharp edge of her glare starts to lessen as she watches you.

“You always look good.”

Shauna opens her mouth before promptly closing it, clearing her throat slightly as she looks out the window over your shoulder instead of replying. Sometimes, it's easy to forget that this is the same girl who gutted several teenagers when she acts like this–soft, almost unsure of herself.

You love when she gets all shy when it's just the two of you. You're sure she probably does the same thing with Jackie, but you don't often get to catch Shauna alone. Waiting in the car for Jackie to finally finish getting ready makes up a lot of those times.

She's just Shauna, staring out the window at a loss for how to respond to something as simple as a compliment.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks finally.

You shrug playfully. “You.”

Shauna looks pleased at the answer but quickly shakes her head. “Before, I mean. You were thinking too hard.” The way she says it almost makes it sound like an accusation. Her fingers trail down your arm, stopping by your hand as her thumb strokes across your wrist. It was one of her favorite places to touch you, to feel the fluttering of your pulse just beneath the skin.

You're guilty of something in her eyes, but you can't help but enjoy her intensity. You almost want to laugh–Shauna Shipman, accusing you of thinking too much? Now you've seen everything. She’s so intense as she looks at you, as if she’s trying to read the answer off your face before you even attempt to answer her.

“Was I?” You definitely were, not that you'd admit it. Your mind was racing thinking about everything going on, everything you were going to do tonight. Everything had been happening so quickly lately, and it was a struggle for you to keep it all straight in your head. You wonder if Jackie or Shauna ever had that problem, but you quickly shake the thought off. Shauna wouldn’t care enough to dwell on it, and Jackie wouldn’t think to.

“Maybe I was just wondering when you were finally going to get around to kissing me,” You add.

She watches you for a moment, like she’s debating making you wait. You note the surprised twitch of her lip, the way her eyes flicker down to your lips before she forces them away. There’s something about the way she pretends that it hadn’t been her intention the whole time that makes you feel unspeakably fond of her. Shauna can try to hide it behind jealous accusations, but you know what she really wants. She just wants to watch you squirm first.

“You're lucky Jackie's taking so long.” Her voice is dry, almost amused, but she shifts enough in your lap that it gives her intention away long before she leans in. Shauna’s lips ghost against yours, her warm breath brushing against your skin, before her lips finally meet yours. The kiss is firm, as grounding as always. Her hand cups the back of your neck, holding you in place while simultaneously daring you to look at anyone else besides her, to think of anything besides the way her fingers curl into your skin. She digs her nails in–not enough to hurt, but enough for you to feel the claim she’s leaving.

There’s a surety to her in moments like this that doesn’t often surface in other facets of her life. A calmness so unlike her usual intensity that it’s almost a little jarring to look at. Jackie hadn’t seemed all that different from who she presented as and who she was when you first befriended her–what you saw was what you got–but Shauna was something else entirely. A puzzle that she didn’t want solved. You live for those moments when that all-consuming fire within her is just warming to the touch instead of burning, letting you get close enough to really look at her.

She’d hate it if she realized you noticed. It’s a secret that you have to keep, only ever spoken in soft voices when you and Jackie are sure she won’t be able to hear.

Her thumb strokes a spot behind the back of your ear that you hadn’t realized was sensitive until this very moment, and you can’t help but shiver under the touch. The corner of her mouth twitches up as she pulls away, a hint of a smirk replacing her desire as she revels in the effect she’s having on you. It’s maddening, the way she always seems to know just what to do with you. You want to respond, maybe to say something smart in return, but she leaves no thoughts for anything in your brain besides her. It makes you feel so dumb–she always does–but she certainly doesn’t mind.

“Yeah,” Shauna murmurs. “Not thinking about Jackie anymore, are you?”

Was that what she thought you were doing? Poor Shauna, convinced you were daydreaming about Jackie in the backseat of her car. You’re charmed by the thought of her climbing all the way back here just to reclaim your attention. As if she wasn’t sitting up there in the front seat, presumably complaining about the two of you in her little journal in the first place.

“Who’s Jackie?” You ask, almost too innocent. Just enough to tease.

She breathes out a laugh, resting her head against your shoulder to hide her smile before pressing a kiss against the side of your neck. “Cute,” She whispers, barely audible. Shauna lingers there, breath hot against your skin as her hand slides up the back of your neck to fist in your hair as she tugs your head back to look at her. “Say her name again.”

“Jackie,” You say slowly, in that same breathy tone you’d use to encourage her.

Shauna scoffs, tugging at your hair in reproach, but you don’t miss the way she shifts against you as it leaves your lips. She tips her head, her nose brushing against your jaw before her lips start trailing a path down your neck. It’s gentle at first, small little kisses that soon turn into nips, leaving a trail that feels like a brand across your skin. She tilts your head back however she pleases, silently urging you this way or that with a burst of pain. Her other hand slides up your chest to rest against your heart, fingers splayed out possessively as if to claim it for herself.

She nips at a spot just above your collarbone, soothing it with her tongue for a moment before biting down even harder. Shauna squeezes your legs tightly with hers as you try to jerk away, using every bit of her leverage to hold you back against that seat.

“Again?” Shauna asks, but the hint of anticipation in her voice betrays her intentions. She wants it so bad. Wants you to give her a reason to do this, just so she has a reason to sink her teeth in a little deeper, to hold you tight enough to border on bruising.

“Jackie–”

A knock on the window interrupts you, the two of you almost jumping as both look over to see Jackie leaning down against the car, one hand braced beside the window as she gives you a little wave with the other. Shauna immediately starts to pull away, climbing back over into the driver's seat as she unlocks Jackie’s door for her.

Jackie climbs in the car with a wide grin, clearly enjoying the leftover tension as the two of you try not to even look in the other’s direction. She almost kneels in the passenger seat as she leans over to give you a kiss, pouting until you finally lean forward to close the distance. After a moment she pulls away, brushing a stray hair out of your face before she turns around in her seat. Shauna looks over at her expectantly, and Jackie just shrugs.

“Oh, did you want one too, Jackie?” Jackie teases. Shauna goes bright red, turning the key in the engine and starting the car just so she can pretend nothing happened. Jackie goes scrambling for her seat belt, knowing better than anyone that Shauna was about to peel out of here.

…

You sigh as Jackie's lips brush your jaw teasingly, her fingers ghosting over a small mark Shauna's left on your collarbone. You already knew you'd probably end up with a matching mark before the night ended, neither of them completely able to treat marking you as anything other than a competition.

It's not like it's a game you don't enjoy playing–the way Shauna had looked at you when you left a mark on Jackie's thigh on top of hers had featured front and center in your mind for days. That dark, simmering anger–along with a begrudging respect–was enough to tempt you to provoke her a hundred more times.

But you don't have time to think about that right now.

You don't really have time to indulge Jackie either, but you'll make do with what you have. Still, as excited and raised voices sound from downstairs, even Jackie starts to pull away. You can just barely make out the sounds of garbled voices through the floorboards.

“Coach Martinez… dead…”

A flicker of a grin passes across Jackie's face, eyes widening with a delight she can't quite contain.

“... head on a soccer ball…”

She grabs your wrist tightly–whether to ground you or herself, you aren't sure. She squeezes tightly in her excitement, her breathing speeding up as she lets herself get absorbed in the moment.

“…let's go before…”

You barely have time to adjust before Jackie leaves your lap, pressing her ear up against the door to try to make out more of the conversation.

You look over at Jackie with wide eyes at the sound of pounding footsteps and then the door slamming closed behind them. Instead of reflecting your shock, Jackie just looks intrigued and a little flustered.

Freak, you think fondly.

Jackie grins over at you in the cramped closet you're hiding out in, reaching over to grab your mask and slip it over your head. Her fingers linger along your jaw much longer than strictly necessarily. She adjusts it with care, straightening it out till it sits just perfectly before pulling away. You don't have the heart to point out how quickly it'll get messed up when you get down to business tonight.

She slowly opens the door, keeping to a crouch as she peeks her head around to look down from the top of the stairs.

“They're all gone,” She confirms, giving you a thumbs up. The silence of the house seems louder than ever now that the two of you are mostly alone.

Shauna's idea of a distraction had worked wonders, you had to hand it to her. The second it had reached the ears of Jeff's little party, the last of his friends had cleared out to go see the carnage before the police could get it all cleaned up. Just like Shauna said it would. She was probably almost here by now with how long the news presumably took to reach them, but Jeff was left up to you and Jackie to kill. Shauna was mostly the getaway driver in this one.

Jeff was alone up in his house now, having passed out on the couch at least an hour ago from your estimate. You weren't quite sure, but that was about when his obnoxiously loud voice stopped echoing up the stairs. It was a little disappointing after everything to have it be this easy to kill him. He was asleep on the couch, mouth slack and probably drooling. He wouldn't even be able to put up a fight, completely oblivious to everything the three of you had planned for him.

Shauna would've found a way to wake him, you knew. Would've knocked a lamp off of a side table just to get his attention or bumped into a chair just to make the leg screech against the wood flooring. The hunt was so much better than the act itself, at least as far as Shauna's concerned.

Jackie would've too, but that's not surprising: they tend to be more similar than they are different. She likes to taunt them, likes to beat them to all the exits, and watch as the hope leaves their eyes. It's an almost playful cruelty to it all, a slight hint of a smile tugging at her lips while her eyes shine with malice.

Aren't they dreamy?

You had no qualms about killing Jeff in his sleep. Anything to get it over with, to get back home for the celebration. The way they practically fell over themselves to get you into bed after was your favorite part. They're always their most violent right after a kill, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't love that predatory gleam in their eyes as they backed you up against the nearest surface. You're simple like that.

Jackie's hand brushes across your knuckles, quickly drawing your attention back to the moment. Back to her. You know her well enough to catch the look of disappointment on her face, one that you're quick to mirror behind your mask. You know what she's thinking as she glances back out of the closet door without her even needing to say anything.

“Jackie-” You start.

“Please,” She draws out, lingering on the e long enough that you start to get irritated. She squeezes your hand imploringly, her thumb gently caressing your skin. God, you hate when she does that.

“Jackie, no.” You shake your head in an almost pitiful attempt at being firm, but even you can hear the way your voice wavers. It was just so hard to tell either of them no. Usually Jackie would jump on the weakness you've so obviously presented her, but this time is different. Jackie seems to feel bad enough, pity maybe, that she relents.

“Fine,” She mutters with a sigh, not looking at all happy about it. Almost like a child that's just been denied a cookie before dinner. Jackie tilts her head in contemplation, and you can almost see the gears turning in her head. That rarely spells good news for you outside of a soccer field. It means she's found a loophole, or a small chink in the armor she can exploit.

“Jackie…” You warn, but you can already feel your resolve cracking.

“I'll be right back. Don't worry, you've got this!” Jackie plants a quick kiss on the cheek side of your head through the fabric before starting to pull away, like she’s leaving you to finish a group project she never cared about.

I'll be right back? What the fuck does that mean?

“Where are you going?” You hiss, grabbing at her arm. Jackie looks back at you with a feigned innocence that makes you want to shake her.

“Relax,” Jackie says confidently. “I just have a little something I need to do.”

“A little something?” You ask frustratedly.

She just grins, shaking her head. “I have a plan. Jeff’s asleep.” Jackie gestures vaguely toward the downstairs living room. “Just a quick little addition. You’ll be fine!”

“Jackie,” You plead, more exasperated than you feel comfortable admitting. She always has to go and do stupid stunts at the last moment. More likely than not they worked out, at least when it came to this, but it frustrated you the way she set her mind toward things sometimes. You didn’t bother to argue with her, knowing that any real fight wouldn’t stop her anyway.

“I know, I know,” She placates, but she’s already rising to her feet and out the door before you can raise another argument. You grip the knife tighter in your hand, trying to quell your rising irritation before you finally make your way to your feet.

“Un-fucking-believable,” You mutter. At least you could channel that anger into something productive–killing Jeff. The thought of him still lying prone and unresponsive on that couch does little to soothe your nerves. Part of you wanted to watch the realization in his eyes as you sunk the knife into his chest, but it was too late for that now. Shauna has her distraction at the soccer field, Jackie has her addition, and you have Jeff asleep on the couch.

Teamwork with the two of them often felt like trying to domesticate feral cats.

Only, as you make your way down the stairs, Jeff doesn't seem to be on the couch any longer. You couldn't see Jackie anywhere, but part of you already knew it was entirely her fault. You have to take each step down the stairs carefully now, cautiously testing it for a squeaky floorboard that could be your undoing. Your frustration is sharper now, mind racing with every way Jackie could've botched this by waking Jeff up on her way out. She wouldn't have left you here alone with him if she was aware she'd stirred him awake, but that was little comfort now that you were left to complete the job by yourself.

You half expect Jackie to jump out from behind every shadow in the corner of the room, the coat rack looming large in the back of your mind, but you know better. Still, your nerves are high enough that even the mundane feels threatening. You can't help but let your mind wander for a moment, wondering if that was the last thing people felt before Shauna was on them. The thought shouldn't be as exciting as it is.

There wouldn't be a call for this one, you knew. Jackie had told you as such earlier, but you hadn't thought to ask her why. Even now it felt more like their thing than yours, even if Shauna would roll her eyes at you saying such. They wanted Jeff's death to be noticeably different from the others, something to do with making it stand out. You suspected it was probably something to do with setting Travis up now that he made such an easy target for it, so you appreciated being left out of it. You weren't his biggest fan by far, but it left a bad taste in your mouth to think about ruining his life like this.

Oh, you realize suddenly. Jackie was probably off planting evidence or some stupid shit like that.

It wasn't anger, exactly, that struck you at the realization–just a maddening sense that you'd once again been left to pick up the pieces when one of their plans went off the rails. Their thrill-seeking would be the death of you one day. Sooner rather than later at this rate.

You hear the pantry door slam closed, then bumbling hands dropping something to the ground with a loud thud. Jeff curses under his breath, barely loud enough to be heard from the kitchen in the echoing silence of his house. You wonder what's going through his mind as you sneak across his living room. Has he noticed that everyone's left? Or has he just assumed he passed out long enough to miss his party?

He probably did. Always one to accept the simplest excuse.

You wait for him to turn his back–wait for him to present you with an easy target. You'll embellish the story when the two of them ask about it, tell them about the way you valiantly chased him across the house. Maybe you'd give yourself a bruise or two before Jackie returned, just in case. His waking up could be to your benefit if you played it correctly, remembering how disappointed Jackie had been by an unmoving target. It could be fun to guilt trip her just a little about leaving you alone with him. She would certainly do it to you, after all.

Jeff's got his head resting in his hands as he leans against the counter with a groan, disoriented and still more than a little drunk after his nap. You carefully step closer, knife raised above your head in mocking imitation of Shauna. You've only seen her in her element twice now, but there was something a little absurd about watching her move when you weren't the one running for your life. An undeniable grace, but an intense focus that makes her unaware of just how wild she looks.

Jeff turns around suddenly, eyes widening as he catches sight of you looking large behind him. He almost drops the bottle he's loosely holding in one hand, mouth agape. You're both frozen in this moment, his eyes focused on the small holes in the mask where your eyes are. His reaction isn't anything like you were expecting–not fear, not shock, not even anger. There's an almost thrilled amusement on his face that you're not sure what to do with. He's grinning like an idiot, either oblivious or unconcerned by the knife in your hand.

He laughs suddenly, relaxing back against the counter as he gives your shoulder a little shove. It isn't that hard of a push, not something that would usually move you at all, but in your shock it's enough to send you stumbling back into the kitchen island.

Your back hits the edge of the counter hard enough that it takes a concentrated effort not to cry out in pain, already aware of the beginning of a bruise forming from the dull ache pulsing through you. Well, at least you wouldn't have to give it to yourself. One less thing you'd have to lie about when you tell the story. You're definitely leaving this part out. It's getting embarrassing.

“Dude,” Jeff says, eyes alight with excitement. “Where did you get that? I thought they stopped selling the costume after–” He waves his hand around vaguely. “You know, everything.”

You shrug, almost comically, making a show out of holding the knife loosely in your hand.

“God, people would go nuts if they saw you walking around like that,” He says, waving the bottle around to emphasize his words. Jeff laughs again, clearly entertaining himself even if no one else. “Oh shit, wait! Is everyone else still here? You were all in on it, right? Scaring me?”

You watch him for a moment, almost in disbelief, before nodding. The ease at which he's accepted this surprised even you. Whether he's still pretty drunk, or just that stupid, you're not sure. Either way, you have no complaints. The part where he was too thick to realize he was in danger? You'd definitely be leaving that out in your recounting of the night.

You slowly raise the knife before pointing the tip of it in the vague direction of upstairs. Jeff nods eagerly, almost looking like a bobble head as he starts stumbling to the stairs. “Hiding in my room? Smart.”

He stops, hand on the banister as he turns around to look at you with narrowed eyes. Your heart starts to race, beating rapidly in your chest. Is this it? Is this when he finally realizes–

“Someone's going to jump out at me when I get to my room, huh?” He accuses smugly, like he guessed the punch line to your joke before you could finish it. Your jaw clenches beneath your mask in irritation, but you stay quiet. You didn't want to risk him hearing your voice. With your luck he'd immediately catch on. You feel your shoulders relax as the tension leaves as quickly as it came.

You glance down at the ground, as if you were embarrassed, giving him exactly what he wants to see. He just laughs.

“Don't worry, man. I'll pretend I didn't know.” He gives you an encouraging look and a quick thumbs-up, chuckling as he heads up the stairs.

You tighten your grip on the knife as you follow silently up the stairs after him, steps light enough that he keeps glancing behind him to see if you're still following. You wave the knife encouragingly as he turns around again right before his bedroom. A thrill washes over you as he reaches for the door handle, an almost giddy feeling rising in your chest as he pushes the door open to find no one in there.

He glances back at you with a frown, then his face lights up as he reaches for the light switch and walks inside. You stand in the doorway behind him, watching as he slams open the closet door–as if to catch someone by surprise.

“Dude? Where are they?” He whispers, shifting almost anxiously at your continued silence.

“What are you…” He trails off, almost disappointed as you don't take the mask off.

His smile fades as he catches on–finally–just a little. Just enough that his body starts to close off, that he starts to shift to stand just a little steadier as he turns around. Not quick enough, however, to stop the knife from sinking into his back as you lunge forward. He cries out, hand reflexively trying to reach back for you, but you manage to sink the knife into his back another two times before he hits you hard enough with a desperate swing of his arm to send you stumbling back.

Gasping, he stumbles too, hand clutching uselessly at his back where blood seeps out of his wounds. His shirt is already darkening where the blood stains it, the fabric already beginning to stick to his skin. There’s the look of disbelief on his face as he catches sight of his fingertips, his face ghostly as he tears his eyes away from it. Jeff takes a step forward, as if to strike out at you again, but collapses down to his knees as his legs give out beneath him.

Your hands are still raised, knife gripped tightly between your fingers as you wait to see if he'll stand again. The adrenaline pumps heavily through your veins, almost daring you to make a stupid mistake, but you dig your feet in, muscles poised.

His eyes are unfocused, dilated and hazy as he looks up at you. The look of betrayal on his face is shocking, up and until you realize he still thinks you're one of his friends. You're fine to let him think that, in all honesty. His breath comes out in wheezy, pathetic gasps as he leans heavily against the wall behind him. You watch the way his chest moves as he breathes, slower and slower as the blood loss starts to catch up to him.

You tense up as he starts to slump over, but still you wait, watching as it dawns on him that he’s going to die here. This is the end. His lips part uselessly, like he’s trying to form words that will never come to him. It looks like it takes all he has in him to let out a sound barely above a whisper, lost beneath the gurgling of his throat. Jeff’s shoulders slump slowly, whether in exhaustion or resignation you’re not sure, as his head droops forward enough to brush against his chest.

His face slackens, recognition fading in a way that has you sure he’s either gone or close enough that it wouldn’t matter. Still, the hollow look in his eyes catches your attention even as you try to look away. The utter emptiness looking back at you reminds you suddenly of Allie. It had only been a few months ago that you had first looked upon death, but it feels like years ago now as you look back at Jeff with a detachment you never could have predicted.

You wonder if this is how Shauna felt looking down at Allie, but quickly decide it wasn’t. You can’t imagine Shauna not being exuberant as she stares down at the results of her hunt. It’s not that you were upset, but it was something different than the looks you’d seen on either of your girlfriend’s faces.

If he was ever afraid it was fleeting–you try not to focus on how strangely disappointing that realization is. A part of you wants him to cry out one last time, anything to feed that growing numbness inside you, but he remains silent. You’re almost insulted, in a way. Blood pools around him on the floor, slowly spreading out, almost crawling across the floor in a way that’s nothing short of mesmerizing. For a brief moment it looks alive in a way that it could never be.

You cross the distance between you, grabbing a fist full of his hair as you drag his head up. He moves far too easily, limp as you expose his neck. With a deliberate slowness, you drag the knife across his throat, feeling the skin give way beneath the sharp steel. The blood pours down his neck, soaking into the front of his shirt to match with bloodstains already marking his torso.

The metallic scent of blood fills the room as you let go, his body collapsing in on itself like a puppet who’s had its strings cut. It might have been overkill, but that’s something you couldn’t care less about. You could never be too careful, no matter what Shauna would have thought about the subject. The emptiness remains even now that it’s done–a dull ache that staring down at his corpse doesn’t quite fix.

Your head shoots up at the sound of footsteps approaching from the hallway, the knife in your hand raising defensively until you catch sight of the swishing robe in the doorway. Those empty eyes stare back at you through the slits in the mask as she stares down at the body at your feet before giving you an approving nod. You can’t help but grin despite how silly it makes you feel.

Her head turns to the closet, as if half-expecting someone to jump out of it, but it stays empty. She takes a few cautious steps forward, looking around the room searchingly. Finally, she just sighs. She reaches up, as if to pinch the bridge of her nose in exasperation, before stopping suddenly as she remembers the mask. It’s more charming than you wish it was.

“Where’s Jackie?” Shauna asks, her voice a mixture of irritation and inevitability. You just shrug.

“That sounds about right,” She continues dryly, an ever present fondness underlying her exasperation.

#yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets x reader #shauna shipman x reader #jackie taylor x reader

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