#I think im going to explore utter depravity !

[sweetangelanon]

It's been so long since I wrote gore of any kind and now im jsut left here like okay what what piecee of flesh could william cut off from your body that that won't kill you instantly he has to eat a part of you it has to happen but i don't want the reader to die and like i know this is aa story i could say whatever the fuck i want and have reader still be alive but also relizum and im soo it haunts me it haunts my steps when i go to write it and i keep thinking maybe he cuts a cunk of muscle from the thigh? thigh feels like a safe place to go for tBUT THEN AGAIN THE ARTIRIES THE BLOOD VEL IM NOT A DOCTOR BUT I KNOW THOSE BITCHES CAN BLEED OUT FASTER AND WE CAN'T HE HAS TO BE ABLE TO PLAY WITH YOU- YOU KNOW !!!!!!! HAVE HIS FUN KEEP YOU AS A PET THIS IS THE POINT IT IS IMPORTANT. but does he eat a bit of you before he fucks you or after....... I was thinking before because I keep thinking about the scene i read in a fanfic where william was stabbed and she could've fucked him he got sooo turned on by that but noo she left him to bleed out to death and im like...... i can have reader be bloodied then fucked and make a mess becuas JUST BECAUSE

I just know he cooks the flesh up a bit and also feeds a little bit of it tto you SLF CANABILISUm hey guys did you know that we low key do that already i forgot the word but it's when you eat your own scabs and stuff that's a bit of self canablisum right there. Another issue i meant for this to be short but then I thought it would be fun to add more and now i was thinking of an oz camio where will ya know kidnapped oz put him in his lil fucked up murder basement and oz just has to see :3c you ummm without limbs fucked up and looking drunk an what not an im cr yy I Just have to make his life worse actally and force him to see such body horrors before he escapes yeah yeah eyah e and leaves you behind because ur so far gone (as if reader was there in the first plac eim sooo) like sorry oz that's going to be one of the many things that stick with you forever jut like when i was 13 and got onto the dark web and now haunted memroies forever stay with me <3 YE AH

[vesperstalksclones]

Whats this? A naughty story about REX??? 😱

(18 +) - be warned!!

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sucking off a Vod. Im not blushing, you're blushing

Uses: cures boredom, loneliness, anxiety, and scratches that "itch"; helpful for all clone lovers, but especially those who are preoccupied (like me) with the idea of going down on one of our gorgeous troopers. 

Ingredients: a bit of deep throating, ample saliva, hair pulling, teasing, and lots of sweet sweet clone rod

A lil sumthin sumthin inspired by the glorious bunch of peeps that admin for and show up at clonesandmoans.

○○○○○○○○○○○

"On. Your. Knees." Fives postured, hands on his hips, trying his best to look as dignified as possible. 

Jesse burst out laughing and his friend's poor attempt to mimic their commanding officer. Amidst chuckles and heckling from the other clones, you sat chewing on your lip, trying to make sense of Fives' act.

I knew Rex as a stern commander, albeit he was thoughtful of his men. I'd never heard him speak with such a dominant and aggressive tone or issue orders in such a basic way. What was Fives on about?

"I don't get it…" 

Fives and Jesse glance up at the sound of your voice. They had become two of your best pals since coming on as a med tech three months ago. Torrent company was known for getting the job done, even if it meant getting blown up in the process. The result was a patient load in the med bay that often flooded in to the halls. The modest staff couldn't keep up, even with the support of the clone field medics. The call had come in for more hands, and yours had been chosen.

"Mph" Jesse grunted. "Umbara. A shit traitor named Krell. He did us pretty dirty; lost us a lot of brothers."

Fives chimed in "Rex took it pretty hard. He felt responsible as our CO. It was his decision to execute Krell. He said that; commanded him 'On Your Knees'. Now when he's pissed that's our tag line…." Fives ducked his head, glaring up from under his brows and growled out the words low in his throat. 

I swallowed hard. I couldn't deny that I had a thing for these men. They were fit and firm and strong. I had handled so many of these gorgeous tanned bodies since I'd reported to Torrent and It was a guilty hidden pleasure of mine. I was glad to save their lives and stitch up their wounds and soothe their fevers. The fact that they were built like every maiden's fantasy under that armour was a surprising and welcome bonus. 

And then there was the Captain. He always presented with an air of quiet dignity. Even when he professed worry for his injured troops, he always always remaind poised. Many of the other soldiers jumped at the chance to flirt with a young available female. Especially one who's job included removing their clothing and occasionally (if they were lucky) touching their twig and berries if necessary. Some, like Fives, were shameless in their chatter. He'd offered to service me several times. Honestly it didn't bother me, he was so sweet and silly and friendly about it, like an overly large puppy. That's how we became friends, as messed up as it seemed. He had offered to paint my molars. I politely declined and checked around his balls for herniations. Instant besties. 

 Rex had never had to present to me before. Apparently he preferred to report to his medic, Kix, for treatment. No, I had only ever traded injury reports and small talk with the commander. He was always perfectly poised. Focused. Buttoned up.

I wanted to unbutton him.

In the most depraved ways I could imagine. I wanted that decent, respectful man to use me like his play thing and leave my sticky, sweaty, and shaking.

Again… a dry swallow at the thought.

Fives cocked an eyebrow at me. 

"Hey uhh… Jess! Look at this shit!"

Jesse swung around, joining us. "Whats that Vod?"

Fives lowered himself to my eye level. He repeated the low growl, and had the heat rising in my cheeks. 

"You fekking like that don't you ad'ika??" Jesse snickered and ruffled my hair. 

Fives stroked his goatee. "Got a thing for the good Captain, do you Nurse? Well…"

"Kriffing… ugh! Fives stop!" I covered my face not sure if I was embarrassed or relieved that my friends had found me out.

I pushed him out of the way and scrambled up from the lounge chair. "I have to run! My rotation starts in 15! Jesse, Fives, … keep your mouths shut… or I'll order cavity searches on both of you!"

"Don't threaten us with a good time!"

                             ○○○○○○○○○○○○○

A few days had passed and I had all but forgotten the exchange with the boys. I was preforming an inventory in a satellite med station, counting off bandages, checking the use by dates on IV bags… important profoundly boring work. Footsteps echoed in the adjoining exam room, big and heavy. Looking to the door… there stood the captain… clad in his boots and blacks, arms crossed as he studied me.

I straightened and tidied myself. 

"Yes Captain?"

"It's come to my attention…" he thought for a moment, " some of my men think I make you uncomfortable."

Uh….

"I beg pardon? Not at all sir!" I crossed the room, intent on showing him that his presence was not unwelcome. "Whatever gave them that notion?"

"Apparently a discussion of my behavior in the field caused you visible discomfort…"

Fucking Fives. And. Jesse. They would die for this.

"No sir…" I thought back to Fives impression and couldn't help but flush from the thought. The real thing was standing an arms length away from me. And we were very alone. 

I stared into his amber eyes, the square stern set of his face. I imagined his full lips forming the words. Commanding me.To my knees.

The heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks. I couldn't look any longer without embarrassing myself.

"It seems to me ad'ika, that you are not being very truthful." His lilting accent filled my ears and I wished for… rougher.. words to be graced by it.

His thumb and fingers gripped my jaw, his palm pressed against my neck. He lifted my face and leaned close enough for me to feel his breath on my skin.

"It seems.." he continued, his rich velvety baritone came softly "...that you might appreciate it if I were to speak to you in a way that many would consider.…indecent."

I took a shuddering breath, my mouth falling open. With just that simple incantation my body caved entirely to his spell, and I felt tingling heat spread through my belly. 

What was happening??? Was this reality? Was Mr Duties and regulations coming on to me???

"What if I would? What would you do about that?" I whispered, testing the terrain.

"I'd certainly oblige." He replied, running his thumb across my bottom lip, "Anything to make you feel more at home."

"Just doing my job sir."

I was physically shaking with the need to grab hold of him."

"Anything to keep you in peak condition".

Oh God, that was terrible. I didn't dare speak anymore, afraid at how quickly my capacity for structured thought was deteriorating. 

I lept at him, pressing hungry lips to his, getting a tight grip at his shoulders.

Rex palmed my ass and lifted me easily, sitting my down roughly on the exam table all the while fighting for my tongue. He positively devoured me, pulling my chest tight against his, bending me backwards to accommodate his height.

"How do you like to be touched?" He gasped between kisses thrusting a hand under my shirt and spreading it across my navel.

"I'll like anything you do to me. Just use me Rex." It came out like an order more than a request. 

His lips quirked into a sly grin. He pulled my shirt over my head and quickly hooked my sports bra with his thumbs, dragging it up my arms. I expected it to be flung away as well, but at my elbows he made a deft twist of his wrist, and the garment tightened like a snare. One big hand pulled my arms backward, arching my torso so that my breasts stood up like lonely mountains before my chin. His opposite hand pressed to my rib cage, and crept around smoothly examining my flesh. He traced the bottoms of my breasts, then slowly closed over one as he watched my face. My jaw had dropped lower with each inch over movement and when his calloused thumb and forefinger teased my nipple to a harder pebble I loosed a groan. It was wanton and desperate and I knew he liked it because his smile showed his perfect teeth, right before they descended to the other breast. 

I couldn't help it but my eyes rolled back in my head. The feeling of his lips nibbling my bud, his teeth pinching, and his rough tongue teasing, combined with the opposite hand massaging was enough to put me out of my mind entirely. 

I uttered a deep moan as the heat of my lust spread through my veins. Sweat beaded on my forehead and my thighs shook a little with anticipation. 

"Do you like being at my mercy?" He whispered against my soft skin, the hand at my elbows tightened my "bonds" with a small adjustment of his finger. "I could do whatever I want to you… and you'd have to just watch."

 My eyes widened and I could feel my pupils dilate. I was eager to watch. 

His hand slid down my hip, then thrust underneath me and gripped the waist of my breeches. He hauled them down my thighs, then ducked and hooked my knees over his shoulder. 

"What if you aren't ready for me?" He whispered, his voice rough and gritty with arousal. He slid his free hand along the backs of my bare legs to where they met, tracing a finger along the fold of my sex.

I swallowed dryly, silently begging him to find out for himself. 

He slipped two large fingers within me, exploring the spaces near my opening, then upward to gently stroke at my clit. The action pushed a desperate whimper past my lips, and I tilted backwards, reveling in his touch. 

"No ma'am!" He chided, slapping me gently on the base of my rump. "You damn well better be paying attention, I don't appreciate being ignored."

He scowled, stepping away from my legs and hauling me roughly to my feet. 

"Generally, when I catch a trooper drifting off I have to make an example."

I trembled at the thought of his "punishment". 

He jerked at the twisted cloth that still held my arms, the other hand plastering me against him, his member pushing hard against my navel. 

"Drop."

I stared at him defiantly. His eyes glared down into mine. Danger and raw power pooling in their depths

"On. Your. Knees." 

I was defeated with little resistance. The command dripped with his dominance, and my weakness to it made itself known by conveniently running down my thigh.

"Yes sir," I rasped quietly. My mouth suddenly not dry anymore. He fucking new what I wanted. 

He loosened his grip on my arms, allowing the garment to slide free as I lowered myself before him. I clasped his thick thighs and guided him to turn and lean against the exam table. I pulled up the top of his black body glove, tracing my tongue over his abs. 

"Take it off," i whispered, "I want to look at you."

 The captain obeyed, rolling his bare shoulders and flexing his physique for my benefit and the view was splendid! My hand roamed with my eyes, up his rippling torso as high as I could reach and back down again, tracing the bronzed curves and inspecting a few ragged scars. He was a man built to be physical, compact muscle and sinew, wrapped in bronzed silk. My hands found the arch of his hips and hooked the waistband of his skin tight pants. Pulling them down slowly my eyes greedily devoured the V-shaped muscles that pointed the way to my "punishment". He was already sporting a raging erection, and I was forced to unhook him from the elastic before I could peel it away further down his thighs.

 His member arched upward before his belly, and without having touched him yet, I was already pretty confident that one of my hands couldn't close around him fully. By nature he was much darker than the rest of his skin, and his darker scrotum was drawn tightly, ready for work. 

He tapped me on the forehead with the spongy head. "Hey!" I giggled, pushing him away. 

"You're getting distracted down there! Get to it."

I cocked my head to the side, quirking an eyebrow up at him, keeping my eyes on his as I ran my tongue along his shaft, teasing at the vein underneath. He kept his face flat and stern, lips still pulled down in a scowl. 

Still watching, I repeated the long lick, but this time closed my lips over his head, tracing circles within my mouth. He twitched,  rolling his neck a bit, fighting to remain the dignified officer. 

I allowed my saliva to gather in my mouth, promising him mentally that I was going to put that military rank right in its grave. Perhaps he didn't know that caf was only my second favorite thing to put in my mouth. His punishment was my forte.

My lips crept slowly down his shaft, my tongue spreading saliva the entire way, preparing him for my attentions. I stopped about half way, and repeated the motion a few times. Sucking lightly with each retreat. He fidgeted with his jaw a few times. My hands circled his hips and gripped his hard ass, pulling his pelvis forward, while he remained leaning against the table. Watching intently, I descended along his cock again, my eyes holding his as innocently as I could manage. His own widened the deeper I took him, his lips finally dropping open with a gasp as he slid in to my throat and my lips pressed to his bronze skin. I swallowed against him, my tongue flitting about and drew away, savoring the deep groan that I was pulling out of him.

Gotcha captain.

I quickened my pace, not taking him as deeply, but sucking with force each time, my fingers clamped around his hips, arched into claws. Holding him prisoner. 

I would break away periodically, running my lips along the sides of his shaft, allowing his arousal to calm a little - no sense in hurrying him along. I wanted to savor this beautiful man.

His hand groped for my head, gently fisting my hair, the other finding my upper arm, kneeding and stroking as he drown in my touch. 

"Ah.. ah...ah'd...ddd..ikka".. he stuttered through his passion, when I took him again in my mouth. "Can you go harder??... GAH!"

He threw himself back as I scrubbed over his head with my tongue, toying with the small opening there. "I love your touch, Dala, its so good! I want to move but I'm afraid I'll hurt you!"

I surged forward down his cock, tearing another moan from his throat. Pulling away with a wet slurp, I met his gaze.

 "Well, do it then, sir. Aren't you the one punishing me?" I asked, stroking him firmly in my fist. 

He grinned, combing back a few escaped locks of my hair and closing his fingers through them firmly. Sliding my closed hand to the base of his member, I chased it with my mouth, tensing my neck and shoulders, the other hand traveling along his thigh to stroke between his legs, caressing the tightened globes there.

I repeated the motion again and again, varying in force and intensity, as the Captain's breath grew more ragged. Pushing him well past his limits, he began thrusting back in to my face, struggling to temper himself and not knock me senseless. The fist holding my hair would occassionally forget itself, hauling me away or forcing me forward when the pleasure got the better of him. I moved with him, savoring the taste of his skin, the salty warmth of the pre-cum that I was pulling out of him, the thrill of pleasuring this man with my mouth and hands. I had been hungry for him. Positively ravenous. And devour him I did. 

His moans were becoming louder and more frequent, with gasped praises and prayers flung from his lips at odd intervals. 

I sucked harder and moved faster, fighting my way towards his release. 

"Ngh!! Ad'ika! I'm close!" He cried. I met his eyes. "I want to… aagh!" he shuddered, loosing his train of thought momentarily. "I want to cum on your face!!!"

I couldn't very well nod, but unstead answered by putting my best effort in to the grand finale, tongue and mouth and hand working in unison to push him over the edge. 

His lashes fluttered shut, his head dropping backwards, Rex thrust against my mouth, a noise building in his chest. He repeated the motion with me. Again. On the fourth roll of his hips a shout tore from his throat, and I felt his hot seed pour over my tongue. I pulled away, allowing thick ropes of his cum to land on my cheeks and lips, down my neck and chest. 

I stroked his hips and thighs as he leaned back on his elbows, his climax rolling through him still. Sitting back on my heels, I simply enjoyed the sight, watching him in the afterglow of his release. He was still trembling, with the occasional violent shudder, breathing raggedly, his shaking hands kneeding at my wrists.

Eventually he lifted his head, fixing me with a bright eyed grin that made my insides positively twist. 

"Damn woman, that was intense!" He gasped, pulling me to my feet. He admired his handiwork on my chest. Then, with an impish grin, he signed off near my collar bone with his index finger, satisfied I had been properly chastized. 

"You ass!" I squealed dodging away. 

Laughing, he grabbed me and pulled me over to the sink. We quickly cleaned up together, and he pulled my breeches away along with socks and clogs. Snaking an arm around my waist, he dipped the other hand between my thighs, which was in quite a state: stimulation to my mouth tended to make me a hot mess. 

"Stars! Where is all of this coming from?" He nibbled at my lips, tasting himself in the process. 

"I guess its my punishment for not paying attention", I cooed saucily. "I suppose I'll have to tend to that elsewhere."

"Perish the thought, Sugar." He fisted himself, working his member as he kissed me again. "Give me a moment and I'll be in top form…" his voice dropped into the low growl that rattled my insides, " then we can continue with your…. Reprimand .."

He scooped me up, and dropped me unceremoniously back on to the table, pushing his already firm cock against my opening. 

"Your recovery time Rex, my God!" I gaped in wonder. He guided his member to my opening and sunk into me slowly, smiling at my low groan. 

"I've told your superior I need you to help me purge old injury reports. Should take the entire rest of the day..." He exhaled slowly, enjoying the delicious friction where we were joined. "... and I've a laundry list of poor behavior that needs to be "disciplined" out of you"

[helenhuntingdon]

@rayblayblay replied to your post “rayblayblay replied to your post “This isn’t an attack on anyone, but...”

Im re things that have happened lately I still can’t be sure on to discuss since I haven’t watched lmao~ But yeah it’s valid when it’s also a bi rep issue. Like for me, I was discussing sth similar somewhere the other day re: Jai? Like he has been abusive but I don’t hate him bc I always hated that the show gave him that whole personality transplant to begin with??? And the villainising of men of colour in the show IS an issue so when they finally STOPPEd with that quite offensive writing I was just relieved and wanted to see Jai be redeemed rather than the show just having this representation of spineless, selfish Rakesh, Kirin ho killed a woman, sometimes misogynistic Rishi, and that awful Kasim situation and writing (where he wasn’t villainised I guess??? but it was shit) AND evil, abusive, 2d panto villain Jai. Jai has been punished a lot of shit he’s done and him admitting shit he’s done and trying to make up for it and going to NA to try and be a better person and putting his issues behind him is a Good SL, and a good redemption plot. Though I also accept if ppl never forgive him, but there needs to be an understanding there that for the representation? Having him be forgiven is better. 

So for many I assume in terms of bisexual representation, it’s better if Robert isn’t a depraved bisexual trope, ofc, but ESPECIALLY now Iain has been like ~he is the only bi in the village~ Which is utter BS. And I think personally the issue is more that the characters who are bi, who are basically written as having been attracted to men and women (and obvs the definition of bisexual is more than that but in ED there’s only cis men and women~) SHOULD be seen as bi + better LGBT training for writers so they don’t accidentally come out w/ this depraved bisexual bullshit. And THEN Robert could be written just as a character, if there is a diversity of bi and pan character which there SO EASILY could be, bc they ARE THERE, they’re just not recognised as bi or pan??? (For the record, I see Vanessa as pansexual~~~) And then maybe he could be redeemed like Jai OR just be still a dude who does shit and you don’t need to excuse him but can explore that shittiness w/o it being biphobic. And people can then be invested in him as a complicated bisexual character and those bad traits~~~ of his can actually be explored bc there will be bi characters who are moreso seen as Good like Vanessa and Rhona and usually Debbie.

But yeah I’m not here for Rebecca hate at all and the homewrecker narrative in fandom just IS misogynistic. If he cheated it’s his fault.

But I also get ppl blaming the writers? And I kind of think re abuse the blame should be more on the writers rather than people blaming and hating on each other? The writing of abuse or not abuse IS vague! There IS an issue he can’t be redeemed and he can’t either be punished for abuse bc the canon narrative doesn’t write him as being abusive so this can’t be resolved? And if ppl have an understandable issue with people denying the abuse then really it is the show’s fault imo? Bc they’ve made it so damn vague as an issue and have not dealt with it properly in SO many situations where they could’ve dealt with issues between them? And when they bring casual violence in as well it shows that like with a LOT of m/m relationships they see some level of violence between them (physical or verbal~) as the norm? And add to that the tragiporn Aaron narrative they’re gonna just casually use that, Robert’s ~verbal violence, to make him suffer when they want to, but like his mental health and other stuff he has to suffer, not actually resolve it bc then they can’t keep using it to make him suffer? 

OR that is how I see it but yeah most of this shit is the show’s fault~~~ Plus fandom misogyny which is fandom’s fault 100%. And I’m ngl there’s a hypocrisy in saying it’s the writers’ fault he cheated!!! And it’s Rebecca’s fault she wrecked this family!!! It can’t be both sorry, plus why does Robert get a ‘it’s the writers’ fault’ pass and Rebecca doesn’t? It’s the same ~maybe bad writers who are writing them both after all. 

And yes!!!! @ ‘there are abuse survivors in both camps, all with remarkably unique experiences, and railroading anyone's perspective is grotesque and disrespectful when its rooted in any kind of trauma..’

I have mentioned this the other day as well but this is sth I’ve had to learn in fandom before w/ a 100% canon abuse plot that some people wanted to believe that the abuser there was redeemable? and that was bc of their own experience of abuse? And who am I to say HOW abuse survivors should interact w/ sl’s of abuse or discussion of abuse in fandom? So it’s just not right to say that ONE narrative in fandom is the narrative of abuse survivors bc that’s not true! Like, @ all fandom, you need to respect all people who’ve experienced abuse in fandom. And there are ways to be more respectful like what I‘ve already mentioned and yeahhh letting people live ffs.

[marijnwordtmaozhen-blog]

Man sieht sich immer zweimal im Leben

Seoul, some hour way after midnight. Some party place in some party street in some party district. As I lean against the bar, I glance at my newfound friends across the frolics and, yet again, I find myself beholden. There’s Adriën, the fancy dressing French-German white-hat. He has that rare skill of diplomatic cordiality that could truly hearten anyone.  At first appearance, I found him to resemble a seasoned casanova, and maybe he would have proven to be one if it weren’t for his fresh relationship with the girl dancing swirly less than a meter opposite of him. She smiled constantly in his direction, in a frequency that would have been disturbing in any situation other than theirs. Her name was Manja, and she was there from day one of my Korean adventure. Over the course of our trip she had impressed me with the passion she would blazon whenever she talked about her travels and her intercultural experiences, her firmfeeted principalities, her determinant empathies and her strong trust and reliance in herself. 

Next to her danced Pinkas, the man, the bass, the legend. It may have been my imagination, but I could have sworn I was able to catch the sound of his laugh even over the boisterous blasting of the K-pop throbs. I admired Pinkas’ ability to be unconditionally content with whatever situation he’d find himself submerged in, always bringing back those rousing bursts of laughter and infecting his company with sheer elation. He was passionate about his musicals, he was passionate about his singing, he was passionate about our travels and, most importantly, he held back not in the slightest to show and share all of this. Then, towering above all the others, Nico’s frontage could be spotted, joyous and unmistakably tipsy. Nico to me was the boilerplate of amenity. He was the guy you want to have a few cold ones with even when everything and everyone else is nothing but nuisance and obligation. With Nico, things were blandly simple: he was just always kind. His humor spot-on, his dialogue keen and permissive, his laughs plentiful. We had frequent talks about music, and he ended up inviting me to come join a jam session back in Germany once: coincidentally, this is about the best invitations one could give me. Yet another reason on the long list of excuses for me to make my way over to the Rhineland sometime.

And then there were Mitko and Sandi. Mitko dancing like a diagnosed kook but nailing it. Sandi moving like I seldom saw someone move. These two, I could honestly write a book about. They were two of those rare people that truly, genuinely, legitimately inspired me, in the most cliche and banal fourteen year old’s motivational tweet sense of the word. With Mitko I could go from birdbrained hilarities to dead serious conversation in a matter of seconds, him excelling in both. I think he ended up understanding me more than he realised, and definitely more than anyone else has managed in a clocking of less than two weeks. First and foremost, this was due to his capacity to displace himself in others. He was that particular type of person that voluntarily delves into a disagreement with his own arguments or convictions, just to be able to construct an understanding of the other. He was remarkably easy to talk to, and gave the comforting sense that you could say or do no wrong. He was bright, and his way of thinking surprised and impressed me even if he was just drunkly divulging his stream of consciousness. When I arrived in Seoul the first day, I had a sudden moment of sleep-deprived panic as I realised the gigantic risk I was taking going on this trip with no more than one person I semi knew. This person would not arrive for another six hours, and I started picturing nightmare scenarios of the worst possible people I could be forced to trek the country with. But then there was Mitko, whom I went out to have a quick beer with and ended up talking uninterrupted with for over three hours straight. My gratefulness for meeting this astute lunatic is enormous.

And then, finally, Sandi. Her kind of spark: I don't think I've seen alike. A certain reconnoitre chronically radiated from her rustled smile — it's that particular type of smile that resonates softly on your retina long after you awkwardly turned it the other way. It may very well be a repercussion of my gradual acclimatising to Asian backdrops, but it seemed to me as if her eyes were always opened a tiny chip wider than those of others. The bobbing of her thick curls assimilated homely comfort, even from across the tumultuous ocean of shit-faced Koreans. She bloomed, dimly yet distinctly, under the fluorescent night lights.

As I remained in expectance of my drink I kept my eyes locked on her movements in a slight creepy fashion, and it appeared to me that they exerted a harmony and alienation simultaneously. As if she was planted perforce here amidst the hordes of horny twenty-somethings, yet somehow found her line of best fit within the sex-depraved freakshow whilst not giving in the slightest of her authenticity. At any given moment she was her own, yet conjointly she was theirs. Adoption without adaptation. She seemed placid either way.

Sandi was an explorer. Not in the name of her scratch-map or tick-off list, not for the stories to tell back home, not for some blog or for her Instagram fame: just for herself. For being part of everything our stunning little planet has to offer. She was breezy and easygoing, and her abundant travel experiences had taught her not too worry and cramp her toes, but rather absorb every moment as wholly and genuinely as she could. 

She loved herself, though it seems this characteristic nowadays carries strictly the negative implication of privative egotism. To my vexation, time and again the admiration of the self appears to stand synonym for hauteur, for vanity, for arrogance. I feel this is a peculiar misconception. Conjure in your head an absolute prototype of arrogance: what do you see? The buffed up king of suave at work that was about three bra sizes out of your reach? The clique of bloated miniskirt empresses that implicated their own adaptation of a Stalinist regime on the high school cafetaria? 

I fashion the chances slim that these people brought forth by your mock-up snapshots of arrogance truly loved themselves. As if the stuck-up bitches of the world, with all their pompous pride, steroid-infested bodies or liters of weekly make-up consumption, are not equally the utter subjects of their own uncertainties and self-doubts as any other would be. More often than not, insecurity makes for arrogance, and both are by no means analogous to amour-propre, to a genuine and optimistic autoperception.  

Maybe it lies in this misconception that the apt appreciation of the self is one of the rarer qualities in today’s people. Or maybe it lies simply in the curse (and blessing) of man to be unsatisfied in perpetuum. Either way, somehow this girl managed. She bared not the slightest sway of arrogance. She was positive about who she already was, and hopeful about who she could be. She did not try to appear as anything. Not even as herself; of late, I have found myself fascinated by how people go through the greatest of lengths to showcase to the world how much they are themselves, and therein somehow create a detrimental paradox, or at the very least a noteworthy hypocrisy. Only through her total abstention of staging, Sandi could be herself and appear as such. 

At the risk of sounding overly melodramatic or, god forbids, poetic, I will bring an end to my descriptions at this time. As I write here a week or so after ‘returning home’ from the trip, I suddenly realise I have been writing in the past tense. As if these people are now reduced to bare figments of my memories. As if they no longer exist in my living world. On one balmy night at Cheju, sitting by the beach and calmly staring into the campfire glows, Pinkas told me about the German saying: Man sieht sich immer zweimal im Leben. Although the saying was supposed to have a more cynical, cautioning implication, I looked around the campfire at each and every amazing person sitting, drinking, chatting and laughing and couldn’t help but pick it up up as a message of comfort. I hope dearly to see all of them again once. 

And then to think it’s a bunch of Germans I am talking about.