#are brought up. it’s all complete malice down to the core

[lovetogether]

Something we liked about mouthwashing is that it had characters which fit into the “ostracized by society” group but made it very clear these people were much different from the actual perpetrator. It’s too often “social fuck-ups” are lumped together, giving true abusers a place to hide. Pointing that shit out as what it is and that it’s very much NOT the same as, say, being an alcoholic, meant a lot to us. One is a place somebody lands in, the other is an act the person in question has full control over.

[prima-materia-ttrpg]

Welcome to the World

It is Lore time. Sit down and hearken to my tale of the planet who was once a god.

This particular story is about the planet Patek, and the little creatures which live on their current body. They are the first setting of Prima Materia, a character all their own, and a good case study of the core concepts that make Prima Materia tick. Those things in the background of a setting which are generally beyond mortal ken, invoked by the GM to make low level players marvel at the far-off absurdity and high level players cow in the terror of the unimaginable in front of them.

Patek, as a discreet consciousness, has existed for a very long time. Like most gods, their story begins before the end of the stelliferous period but not so far in the mires of history as to be as old as the universe itself. There are of course other gods like Patek, though they rarely cross each other's paths. One such god, which we will get to in a later post, is Ternak.

Many planets in Prima Materia also happen to be gods. This wasn't the case before the end of the stelliferous period; gods would flit around the universe as they pleased, mucking about in the affairs of other species. They were the cause of great acts of malice and benevolence alike, sometimes depending on how they felt on a particular day. And before the gods were the gods, they were a space faring species. Before that, they evolved somewhere on a planet in the early days of the universe, but that was lost track of long ago.

Eventually, though, the dream ends. Once again, Patek and those like them were at the precipice of change, having watched the last stars in the universe begin to die. Collectively, they decided to mature, and created a last bastion against entropy in their home universe. They created new stars, and new bodies for themselves so they could always be nearby; acting as a lens to funnel Prima Materia into the stars as fuel to keep them burning. Perhaps most critically, turning themselves into planets also allowed for new life to evolve on their surfaces.

When Patek, or any god, sends Prima Materia to a star in this manner, they end up bathing the planet's surface in free-floating Prima Materia. This allows what most cultures would call magic, or Alchemy, to happen.

Many gods like to take on projects

Patek is no exception to this. They delight in the observation of new kinds of life, and have on occasion directly meddled with the genetics of some natural species on their surface just to see what would happen if, say, a large crustacean were smart enough to become sapient. Other times, they've looked into the annals of history and brought an old biological design out of retirement; such as when they decided to re-create a certain successful ape-like species that existed long ago.

Life has existed on Patek for quite some time now, facing many of the same hardships any other life would have earlier in the history of the universe. Life fills ecological niches, extinction events happen, and life re-fills those niches. With each epoch, Patek watches and tweaks things. We are all but humble stentors, and Patek is introducing carmine to our environment to measure our reaction.

Occasionally, Patek sends a piece of themself to incarnate on the surface. When this happens, the incarnation tends to have powers not seen in others, usually the ability to perform miracles or being blessed with long life. These incarnations almost always become large movers and shakers on the planet, completing conquests or becoming great philosophers as they become blessed with sacred knowledge from Patek themself. Their reason for creating incarnations of course is to gather experiences of what it's like to be born into the world, then review the memories once the incarnation dies and the bit of consciousness can be recalled. Sometimes when an incarnation needs help, Patek will send one of these bits of consciousness to talk with them, offering their experience and views on things.

Patek also creates Prophets, which are similar to incarnations in that Patek interacts with them; though they do not carry a piece of Patek within themselves. They can also perform miracles, but usually they're called on to meddle in things where Patek feels their direct influence would not help or not be nuanced enough to succeed.

Getting the lay of the land

Patek, as a planet, is a few degrees hotter than Earth is and slightly larger, with a wide range of flora and fauna across the entire surface. Some of those species of Fauna are sapient, and have their own myriad cultures, traditions, and civilizations.

All-in-all, most of Patek is fairly similar to Earth with jungles, forests, deserts, grasslands, tundras, and mountains. It's also mostly water, though storms tend to be a fair bit more powerful than on Earth thanks to the shape of continents and average temperatures.

Here is the current official map of Patek, with climates mapped out and continents named. I tried to make the continents more or less match up with what they would look like with as little distortion as possible if you were to look at the continent from orbit. Unfortunately, because it's not a Mercator projection that means it's kinda inaccurate; the most egregious example being Meridionalis actually sits over the south pole.

I so desperately want to explain everything about all the continents, what cultures are where, how species interact with each other and other things; but all in due time. They will get their own posts where I can talk about them in the detail they deserve later.

Thank you very much for reading this far. I'm working on combat mechanics at the moment, so if I get those done and tested by next week I'll write about that (unlikely, but possible). Otherwise, I'll write about some other crunch; Attributes and Skills and perhaps character creation.

Thanks to @donutboxers for the render of Patek. It is very cool and I'm using it as my computer background.

[sirenjose]

Call of the Abyss 2

This is a repost of my COA 2 analysis.

COA2 Trailer + Transcript (https://coa2lore.carrd.co/#cinematicvideo):

There was a place once known as Steam City. It was where adventurers congregate and where outlaws flee to for asylum. Among them were a few nameless individuals relentlessly pursuing their goal: to put out the city's great inferno.

The battle between ice and fire was reaching its conclusion. The great roar that once reverberated through the whole city is now but a whimper. And the remaining fire reflected the shadow of the slumbering snow.

When meltwater seeped into the thermal core, those who were cold hearted grew deranged. The weak lost their sanctuary and chaos erupted. Those who had perished had already been forgotten by those who remained. It was then that a courageous youth had finally exposed the traitor’s identity. On the other hand, the convicts who hungered for the treasures’ powers finally set an even more dire plan into motion. Their century old ship had long since decayed, yet it was still a nightmare for those in the tower. The bone-chilling blizzard brought about despair.

No one was afraid of living in ruins. Those who would complain might as well die out in the cold. The battle reached its climax.

We cannot hesitate under the petrifying gaze of the abyss. Was it darkness or hope that was casted in the city's great flame?

In the journey through the abyss, only if you remain determined and reached the summit, will you be able to oversee everything with no regrets.

Before I go into COA 2, I want to discuss the “evil eye”.

The evil eye is the connection between COA 1 and COA 2, as it was retrieved from R’lyeh by the predecessors of the expedition, the ones Optical Mirror is referring to in his description (aka, the characters of COA 1). We know this is where it came from as R’lyeh is the last stage of COA 1.

Optical Mirror: As the commander, his mission is to guard the Eye sealed by the expedition and their descendants. He dares only to satisfy his desires of possession in the illusion of light and shadow - until the betrayal completely crushed him.

Based on my COA 1 analysis, the eye may have been retrieved by Kurt (as Voyage or Lost) or Helena (as Last Vacation or Good Old Times). Specifically, I think the eye came from Infected. The eye on Infected looks very similar to the evil eye, not to mention the eye is in him the same way it’s in Evil Eye Host. There’s also how Infected warns against staring at the eye too long, which matches up with how Margaretha turned into Vile Blossom in COA 3 after seeing the eye open when Netherwalker showed it to her according to the 2nd anniversary package. Infected likely got the eye from Poseidon’s Crown, who would be a reference to Cthulhu as R’lyeh is where he sleeps in the Cthulhu mythos (“Poseidon” would relate to how R’lyeh is underwater).

Infected: Those red eyes really make one's hair stand on end, so don't stare at them for too long.

Poseidon: He rules the oceans and lakes. His fury will rouse monsters from the abyss that will destroy everything.

2nd Anniversary Package (Netherwalker’s Offer) Information:

When the auctioneer showed me that eye, it was still closed.

I was curious to see what color that lidded eye would glow, but I also wanted them to stay closed, quietly and forever, to escape any malice that might be stirring.

That night, I gave it to her.

When I framed the scene, everything changed.

It seemed to have heard my faintest wish.

I wanted to capture the most beautiful things and the things that aren’t even allowed to exist in this world on the same canvas, if only for a moment.

At that moment, my wish came true.

It opened its eyelids.

And for the first time, a smile appeared on her face.

In a moment of ecstatic madness, I had completed the masterpiece of my half-life.

The moment I put down my brush, I knew this was all I had left.

Last thing regarding COA 1, but maybe the mention of the “century old ship” from the trailer could be referencing the ship that was used to reach “R’lyeh”. It it has been 100 years since COA 1, that would explain why it was said to have “long since decayed”. Maybe the reason the ship was said to be “still a nightmare for those in the tower” because it’s referencing the expedition, or at least it’s predecessors (people like Helena and Kurt from COA 1), who worked to seal the eye away after the events of COA 1. Basically, it’s a nightmare because it brings back memories from the voyage and their encounters with monsters from the Cthulhu mythos, as well as when they got the eye, the very thing they are trying to keep sealed. They probably realized it would’ve been better to keep the eye in R’lyeh.

Back to COA 2.

The conflict in COA 2 is all about the fight over the evil eye.

COA 2 takes place in Steam City, which has an extremely cold environment. This is why the tower in Steam City is so important, as it produces heat for everyone. Banker goes so far as to say heat was the “currency” in Steam City. Unfortunately, we learn from COA 2’s backstory that the fire in the tower is going to go out.

Banker: Currency in Steam City is not coin, but the geothermal heat extracted by the furnace tower. Soon after the tower core was extinguished, the key to the tower he kept was lost.

COA 2 Backstory:

In the extreme cold, there is a capital of steam.

It lit the torch in this forgotten corner of the world and became the home of all wanderers.

But the fire will eventually burn out.

Only by awakening the madness frozen in the ancient abyss, overdrawing all reason and hope as fuel, can the torch be rekindled.

Everyone will be faced with a choice: whether to fight the fire like a moth in madness, or to be swallowed up by the bone-cutting cold in silence.

The fact it says the fire will “eventually burn out” means it hasn’t happened yet. This is where Sands of Time comes in. She has an ability that allows her to “foresee the city engulfed by the cold”, which relates to how she says “the hands of time could be turned back slightly”. As a result, she knows in advance about the problem that’s going to occur, that the fire will “burn out”, and the threat the city will face.

Sands of Time: Under the energy-starved, icy tower, she foresees the city engulfed by the cold, but it is impossible to foresee the boy's choice - fate cannot be controlled, even if the hands of time could be turned back slightly.

Sands of Time, as a member of the expedition, led by Optical Mirror, informs the expedition of the upcoming problem. Her forewarning allows them to debate about how to deal with the issue. Sound Wave is possibly the one who learns of the only solution to the problem due to her abilities and connection to the abyss, as she is said to be able to hear the “call from the abyss”. This solution was to use the eye to reignite the tower’s core. The problem with this is, as seen from the COA 2 backstory, Evil Eye Host, and Steam Teen, this would result in everyone going mad (corrupted).

Sound Wave: She pursued the call from the abyss and finally located the traitor in the furnace tower. Everything will be resolved there.

Steam Teen: The Eye can reignite the tower's core and save the frozen city, but it is more likely to plunge everything into another unknown abyss. How will the teen act when presented with choices after facing the truth?

Evil Eye Host: During that moment of Betrayal, he knew that the resurgent evil eye would cause him to fall into the abyss, plunging the whole city into madness along with him - but it is preferable to the silence offered by ice.

Optical Mirror refuses to do this, as it is his duty to guard the eye. But not everyone agrees with his decision, as we see from Evil Eye Host’s description, who’d prefer madness over freezing. Iron Hat Commander is another in this camp, as he explains “the desperate… regard Steam City as their last shelter” and will do anything to continue living there.

Iron Hat Commander:The desperate formed the Iron Hats, and they regard Steam City as their last shelter. They will live on here no matter what it takes.

Evil Eye Host is also a member of the expedition, which is how he knows about the solution to the fire burning out. Due to Evil Eye Host’s dissatisfaction with Optical Mirror’s (his leader’s) decision, this leads him to meeting with the Iron Hats, and more specifically Punk. The reason he goes to them is likely because he knows how they feel (the Iron hats are “the desperate”), and that they’ll do anything to survive in Steam City. This means they would likely agree with his feelings and be willing to help him out.

During this meeting, the Evil Eye Host explains what he heard from Sands of Time and Sound Wave to the Iron Hats, about the upcoming problem and the single solution to it. He then asks them for help to take the eye and use it to reignite the tower and keep the fire burning. As he is basically talking about betrayal (due to going against Optical Mirror’s and the other expedition member’s wishes), he wanted to keep this meeting secret. Unfortunately for him, Spring Hand interrupts their meeting.

Punk: The meeting between an oddball from the Iron Hats and the expedition's traitor would have remained a secret if it wasn't accidentally interrupted by that guy playing with a spring.

Punk is the “oddball from the Iron Hats”, Spring Hand is the “guy playing with a spring”. Evil Eye Host is the “expedition’s traitor”, as both him and Optical Mirror reference a “betrayal”. Due to happening into their meeting, Spring Hand also overheard what they discussed, including the details about the problem in the city’s future and its only fix. This would be how Steam Teen knows “the truth” in his description.

Spring Hand was also the boy Sands of Time saw with her foresight making an important “choice”. Despite not being able to see what decision he would make, this is why the expedition knew Spring Hand was important and thus why they let him join.

Spring Hand: "The roaming teen relies on his self-made equipment to fight alone in Steam City, dreaming of joining the diverse ranks of the expedition and displaying his talents."

Spring Hand is saved from Punk by Sound Wave and Inventor, which is how he becomes a “new recruit” of the expedition. Inventor at this point then provides Spring Hand with “steam equipment”, which is how Spring Hand becomes Steam Teen (confirmed by how in the trailer, one of Spring Hand’s springs is on the table in front of Steam Teen).

Inventor: He rescued the distressed teen from the weirdo, and introduced him to the expedition as a new recruit, providing steam equipment.

It’s likely due to Spring Hand interrupting Punk and Evil Eye Host’s meeting that Evil Eye Host is revealed as a traitor. This is confirmed by the COA 2 trailer, which says “It was then that a courageous youth had finally exposed the traitor’s identity. On the other hand, the convicts who hungered for the treasures’ powers finally set an even more dire plan into motion”. It’s likely due to being discovered that Evil Eye Host and the Iron Hats decide on stealing the eye based on the trailer saying they “set an even more dire plan into motion” after the “traitor’s identity” was “exposed”.

To do this, they get help from Schemer (Iron Hat Black Hand), who steals the chest containing the eye using information from Evil Eye Host. This chest is the one we see in the trailer, which we know is the Flesh Devourer pet. Schemer talks about how an “aggressive little thing is giving him grief”. We know this is Flesh Devourer as in other versions it basically says this “grief” was because the chest was biting him, which goes with how the Flesh Devourer has a “taste for human flesh” (due to corruption from the eye it contained inside itself).

Schemer: He stole the treasure chest from an expedition with a clue from a traitor, but this aggressive little thing is giving him grief.

Flesh Devourer: A treasure from the abyss, passed down through generations since R'lyeh is locked within. Over time, the chest developed a taste for human flesh.

Now that he has the eye, the next step is getting it into the tower.

It’s around this time that Sands of Time’s prediction comes true. The core is “extinguished”, and the fire goes out. According to Banker, this is when the “key to the tower he kept was lost”. I believe Banker willingly gave the key to Evil Eye Host. The reason I think he was on the side of reignite the tower with the eye even if that meant madness is in part because he is a “banker”. As the currency of the city was “heat”, and no more heat was being produced once the fire went out, that also means he can’t do business anymore (as “heat” would’ve been the thing being taken out of and stored in the banks). Therefore, it’s more beneficial for him to have the core reignited.

Another reason could’ve been because he was corrupted by the eye the same way Chemist was, as her description says the cold couldn’t stop the eye’s effects. This also tells us that the reason the expedition’s predecessors brought the eye to Steam City, or at least to where Steam City would be built with the city around it, was because of how cold it was there. From Optical Mirror, we learn they sealed the eye in the chest (Flesh Devourer), while Chemist tells us they brought it to this location as they hoped to further “delay the eye’s awakening” with the extremely cold environment.

Chemist: The severe cold delayed the Eye's awakening, but could not stop its effect on the human mind. She gained inspiration, stimulated her potential, and fell into madness.

There’s also how the trailer says “those who were cold hearted grew deranged”. This would then explain why Chemist was said to have fallen “into madness”, and thus why it’s possible Banker could’ve been corrupted as well. This line also explains to us why only some people went mad, and not everyone including those of the expedition, but also why the expedition didn’t want the eye to be brought into the tower, as at that point everyone would’ve gone mad.

From here, this is where Sound Wave’s description comes in. It says she “pursued the call from the abyss” to find Evil Eye Host in the tower. Based on how she says “everything will be resolved there”, that is likely when the battle starts, the one we see during the COA 2 trailer. This battle, between Steam Teen and the expedition against Evil Eye Host and the Iron Hats, is likely the same one Wasteland Traveler refers to in her description.

Wasteland Traveler: The steam city's famous tower is already visible; the wonderful battle there must be worthwhile to watch.

Speaking of the Iron Hats, I don’t believe all of them fought against the expedition to use the eye to reignite the tower. Specifically, I’m referring to Iron Hat Sheriff. Iron Hat Commander says “the desperate” formed the Iron Hats and made the city their “last shelter”. Iron Hat Sheriff on the other hand calls it a shelter for “outlaws”. This is the same wording the COA 2 trailer uses, as it says Steam City was where “adventurers congregate and where outlaws flee to for asylum” and later on says “the convicts who hungered for the treasures’ powers”. The fact Iron Hat Sheriff calls the very people Iron Hat Commander refers to as “the desperate” instead as “outlaws” I think shows a difference in opinion. There’s also how his description of life in the city as only the strong survive is his way of pointing out Steam City’s flaws, as he likens it to the same principle pirates follow. Based on how Iron Hat Sheriff says “vigilantes”, I believe this is referring to himself. He’s different from the others.

Iron Hat Sheriff: Steam City is a shelter for outlaws. The principle pertaining to survival pursued there is one similar to that of pirates, respect is given to the strong. That does not mean that some do not call themselves vigilantes.

During the trailer, it says “When meltwater seeped into the thermal core, those who were cold hearted grew deranged. The weak lost their sanctuary and chaos erupted. Those who had perished had already been forgotten by those who remained”. I think this is the issue that bothers Iron Hat Sheriff, as I think he’s concerned with how “the weak lost their sanctuary” as well as how “those who had perished had already been forgotten by those who remained”. This parallels Kevin’s backstory with the Native Americans. Iron Hat Sheriff being with the Iron Hats who are actually on the bad side and want to reignite the tower even though that means madness spreading parallels Kevin being with the colonists who are the reason the Native Americans are dying and being pushed out of their homes. The Native Americans match up with “the weak” that lost their home, as well as “those who had perished” because the colonists would be “those who remained” that had “forgotten” about the Native Americans that died (the ones they took the land from).

As to what happens to Iron Hat Sheriff, I think he left Steam City eventually (before the end). This would parallel how Kevin left America to instead “roam the European continent” (the official IDV website for his backstory says he left because the tribe had died out, but to add to this, it was also likely because he didn’t want to watch the colonists kill the rest of the Native Americans).

Moving on. From the COA 2 trailer, Steam Teen seems to have defeated Evil Eye Host and retrieved the eye from him. This is why we see him holding it during the trailer.

Steam Teen seems to have chosen not to “reignite the tower’s core” even though that would “save the city”, as he didn’t want to “plunge everything into another unknown abyss”. The COA 3 intermission trailer, which shows everything covered in ice and snow, as well as everything destroyed, seems to confirm this.

Locomotive’s description seems to back this up, as it mentions a “world… frozen still”. Frost’s description, as well as an official tweet about him, also talks about everything freezing, not to mention his package being called “Snow Storm”.

Locomotive: The train he vowed to protect never reached the station. When the world is frozen still, the interminable engine he carries shall power the last train that has no terminus.

Steam Boiler: With the last bit of residual heat, a final and unrelenting energy bursts forth.

Package – Last Train: It never stops, there is no end of the line. The last train at midnight, never stopping forever.

Frost: Passion only brings a full head of steam that destroys one's process of thinking. A rational thinker must stay cool and calm at all times.

Frozen Core: Condensation - the greatest magic given by science to time.

Package – Snow Storm: Cool your heart if it conceives the delusion of warmth.

Tweet about Frost: “A passion that overflows from within. Don't you know that it is destroying you? Then let's freeze everything now. Even the tears that spill from your eyes.”

If the tower really hadn’t been reignited (and had pretty much left to ruin), and everything had been consumed by ice and snow, this could mean Steam City is the “snow land” Teleoperator refers to, as well as the “Snow Kingdom” mentioned by Michiko’s Edelweiss, Yidhra’s Ice Crystal, Margaretha’s Snow Lotus, and Murro’s Snowfear skin. Speaking of Teleoperator, the “dispute” she references that came over “from the far away snow land” could be referencing the events of COA 2 and the battle at the tower Wasteland Traveler went to go see. With the tower’s core out, and no more heat or “steam” being produced, it doesn’t make sense to still call the city “Steam City”. That could explain why Teleoperator just refers to it as a place of only cold and snow (“snow land”).

Teleoperator: Only the Abyss can confront the Abyss - when the dispute from the far away snow land came over, she finally realised this is all but another pipe dream. "The Surveyor will be devoured by his own creation." She sent numerous messages to her companions, yet she couldn't foresee this ending.

Snow Lotus: Legend has it that this flower can only grow in the holy land of Snow Kingdom. It was given as a gift to the Dancer, and although it was taken out of Snow Kingdom, it continued to bloom miraculously.

Edelweiss: Who will put this ornament from the Snow Kingdom on Geisha?

Ice Crystal: The work of the craftsman from Snow Kingdom exudes a strong chill every moment.

Snowfear: The Snow Kingdom has a legend that at the height of the storm, two huge figures will appear in the plains. People call them the Snow Monsters, but Snowfear does not buy it.

The fact she says the “dispute” came over could be referencing the eye, as that was what the battle in COA 2 was over, and we know the eye is tied to COA 3 from the 2nd Anniversary package stating Auctioneer gave it to Netherwalker. This eye also essentially caused the conflict in COA 3 as it is what transformed Margaretha into Vile Blossom and Pickman into Netherwalker.

How Auctioneer acquired the eye we don’t know. The last thing we know is Steam Teen had it. The fact Teleoperator mentions the dispute from the “far away snow land” could imply the events of COA 2 and COA 3 aren’t too far apart.

Random theory, but maybe Steam Teen gave it to Banker.

From Banker’s description and how he just made the key seem as if it went missing, that could imply the expedition didn’t know who Banker actually sided with (Evil Eye Host). As someone who normally keeps stuff (the city’s currency), maybe he convinced Steam Teen to give it to him for safe keeping. But, if Banker is also Trickster, this would’ve just been a “trick” so he could actually give it to Auctioneer.

The trailer says the people going after the eye “hungered for the treasures’ powers”. Trickster, if he’s tied to the those of the Investigation Bureau that worked with the Pharmaceutical company to create a container, would be someone who’d be interested in the eye’s power. If his goal is to create a container, that would be why he may have caused Puppeteer (and Margaretha as Vile Blossom) to become corrupted by Netherwalker. As such, it would also make sense for him to possibly get the eye from Steam Teen and then give it to Auctioneer, who’d pass it on to someone who’d use it and become a container for the abyss.

Whether or not that theory is true, I want to finish up by trying to connect a couple more things.

First is the possibility Frost is related to the world (Steam City) being “frozen still” according to Locomotive.

Frost’s accessory Frozen Core mentions condensation. Condensation is when steam, without heat, begins turning back into liquid. We know that the fire in the tower began to go out, and the core itself was eventually extinguished, meaning no more heat was being produced. Then, with how cold Steam City’s environment was, this would mean the liquid would begin to freeze (aka “frost”). Therefore, it’s possible when the core stopped producing heat, it “froze”, which could mean Frost’s “Frozen Core” may be the core of the tower. Frost wanting to freeze Steam City and everything is backed up by an official tweet about him that mentions him wanting to “freeze everything”: “A passion that overflows from within. Don't you know that it is destroying you? Then let's freeze everything now. Even the tears that spill from your eyes”. His package even says “Cool your heart if it conceives the delusion of warmth”, with the mention of “warmth” relating to the issue of heat in Steam City.

The trailer mentions there were “a few nameless individuals relentlessly pursuing their goal: to put out the city's great inferno”. Maybe Frost, as “individuals” without an actual “name”, combined with how all the details about them say they wanted to “freeze everything, were the “nameless individuals” that wanted to “put out the city’s great inferno” (aka the tower). This could serve as actual evidence to back up the idea Locomotive is canonically connected to COA 2.

Maybe this is where Locomotive comes in. As the tower can no longer produce heat, what if Locomotive and his train that “has no terminus” is attempting to replace it? Maybe keeping the train running can somewhat help produce heat in place of the tower. The fact it “never stops” could relate to how the tower was also supposed to “never stop” producing heat for Steam City. This could be backed up by the “1309” on Locomotive’s head. This is likely a reference to Chesapeake and Ohio 1309, which was essentially the last steam engine. One of the waste products of steam engines is heat, and if Locomotive has an “interminable” engine (“interminable” means “incapable of being terminated; unending”), this would mean it would continue to produce steam to power the train, which also means it would continue to also produce heat. If this is true, that could be a way to keep Steam City and the people still living there from completely freezing and/or dying. Basically, Locomotive is the one thing keeping Steam City going after the tower stops producing heat.

This idea is also backed up by Locomotive’s Steam Boiler accessory. As I said, the boiler would also end up producing heat, but from the description, it mentions “the last bit of residual heat” was used to produce “a final and unrelenting energy”. This last bit of heat could be the last of the heat that was produced by the tower before the core was extinguished, and this last heat was used to produce this “unrelenting energy” that allowed the “last train” to be able to keep going, “never stopping forever”.

This could also mean that, when Frost talks about “cooling” a “head full of steam”, especially as he talks about “passion” and it “destroying you”, this may mean Frost wants to take out (or freeze) Locomotive, to try to prevent him from producing any heat for Steam City.

To further back up the idea that Locomotive is connected to COA 2 comes from the tentacle designs on his outfit.

To compare, this is a common theme for COA. At least in terms of COA 2, most of the COA 2 skins have actual tentacles or tentacle designs on their outfits.

After Locomotive is Snowfear. He’s at least connected to Frost as Frost (because of Black and White) is the 2 “huge figures” he mentions, while the “height of the storm” relates to how Frost’s package is called “Snow Storm”. Also, Snowfear’s outfit fits with the extremely cold environment Steam City is said to be in. The reason he doesn’t look steam punk like the others could connect to how Murro is the Wildling and would parallel his canon backstory where he prefers to be away from people, with his companion and other boars, out in the wilderness.

Snowfear: The Snow Kingdom has a legend that at the height of the storm, two huge figures will appear in the plains. People call them the Snow Monsters, but Snowfear does not buy it.

Next is Netherwalker. It’s possible he is (was) Iron Hat Commander. Iron Hat Commander could’ve been one of the “cold-hearted” that became “deranged” due to the eye’s effects. If he was “inspired” and had his “potential” stimulated by the eye, that could explain why Pickman was interested enough to get the eye from Auctioneer in the 2nd anniversary package. That could also mean, as Pickman is an artist good at imitating items from the abyss and people “couldn’t get enough of his work”, he might be the “craftsman” making items like Edelweiss and Ice Crystal or giving Margaretha the Snow Lotus (which I explain in my COA 3 analysis is likely actually a Nether Flower).

Last is Chaser of Time. Her design definitely fits the steam punk theme of COA 2. As to her description, it talks about “time” and there being “no point in hiding. I’ll always be there in the end”. From this plus her name “Chaser” of “Time”, it’s possible she may be in part based off a Hound of Tindalos from the Cthulhu mythos, and the way to attract the attention of a Hound of Tindalos is to time travel. In COA 2, this “time travel” that might catch Chaser of Time’s attention may come from Sands of Time, as she talks about how “the hands of time could be turned back slightly” and would relate to her being able to “foresee the city engulfed by the cold” as well as attempt to “foresee the boy’s choice”.

There’s also how Violetta is chasing “time”, and Vera is called the “sands” of “time”, with “sands” referring to the sand in an hourglass (which is what her perfume bottles look like for that skin). Basically, Vera is the “time” Violetta is “chasing”.

Or maybe it’s a reference to how Sands of Time, Steam Teen, and the others attempted to avoid the result that would result in the abyss spreading. Maybe Chaser of Time is basically just saying you can’t ‘’hide” from the abyss, and it will always “be there in the end”, which is what we see happen in COA 3 (Auctioneer gave the eye to Pickman, who became Netherwalker and also turned Margaretha into Vile Blossom, and Auctioneer plus these 2 work to spread the abyss to a lot of people).

Chaser of Time: Tick tock. Tick tock. Time waits for no man. There is no point in hiding. I’ll always be there in the end.

Thanks again for reading! I hope it was interesting enough for everyone!

[watatsumiis]

OMG HIII <3 and Congratulations 🥳 you deserve each and every one of them & more! Remember to take care of yourself and stay hydrated. Please do this event at your pace love.

Can I please request a prompt with Waka sama (Ayato the Yashiro rascal :3) with #7? Thank you before hand! 🧸🤍

Once again, congratulations for your milestone! 🫶🏻

Thank you so much !! :D You make sure to take care and stay hydrated too !!

This ask and answer are a part of my 200 follower event, which is still open and can be found here!

Rambling under the cut ! Mentions of an Ayato who is a little more... flirty than canon might suggest (and maybe a smidge more unhinged--)

Content warnings: Dark!Ayato (as in like. kinda evil adjacent.), mentions of manipulation, power imbalances and the like. A bit of romantic x reader towards the end. I'd say this borders into yandere!Ayato -

Disclaimer: I do not condone any of the depicted behaviour in real life, this is a fictional piece of work in a fictional setting with fictional characters. If you believe you or someone you know is being abused or mistreated, please reach out to someone for help.

So, I've been sitting on this prompt a couple of days, trying to figure out how I might approach it. It brought a few pretty interesting concepts to mind - I've had a Villain!Ayato AU fluttering around for a while, nothing fleshed out, but now is as good a time as any, no? This song gave me some neat inspiration for it that I hadn't super considered until now.

Imagine, if you will, an AU where Ayato never fully grew out of his delinquent phase, an AU where he's a little more suggestible when he's younger, a little more easily corrupted.

An Ayato who is fully aware of his good looks and charm, and is more than willing to go the extra mile and use them to get his way. Someone who grew up so rich and spoiled so rotten that it seeped all the way down to his core.

On the surface, he's as diplomatic and polite as ever, but behind the curtain he's a different man completely - showering the object(s) of his fixation in love and gifts and making sure they'll never have to lift a finger for anything (well, until he tires of them). He's downright cruel to those he sees as being beneath him, or those who are no longer of any use to him.

Those lilac eyes hold a detached, cold kind of malice, a pure disregard for the wants and needs of anybody other than himself (and perhaps his family, at a push - though who knows what would happen if they were to dare stand in his way).

If you're unlucky enough to catch his eye, plenty of people would say you should be flattered (he's a man who's got very specific taste, after all), but it's hard to feel anything but overwhelmed at the sudden bombardment of gifts and affections Ayato showers upon you - through a third party, of course. He wouldn't be caught dead outside of the Estate, there are far too many out there who are plotting his demise.

It's not an easy task, shaking the Yashiro Commissioner off of your back, especially now rumours say he's climbing his way up the ranks, usurping the bylaws to dig his claws into the last remaining thing that is holding the already crumbling country of Inazuma together. It's downright scary to know that he's got his sights set on you, of all people, and nobody else seems to really think much of it, he's always been this way, after all - demanding and conniving - and what Kamisato Ayato wants, he gets.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagarise my writing! This includes posting translations to other sites (without credit+permission).

[foodieforthoughts]

Thank you, Daddy

Summary: August loves to gift his girl some creamy pie on her birthday.

Pairing: August Walker x Reader

Warnings: 18+, explicit smut, male!dom, fem!sub, spread eagle, handcuffs, use of toys, fingering, orgasm denial, squirting, edging, cunt slapping, slight degradation, chocking, multiple orgasms, vaginal penetration, cream pie, cum swallow, bodily fluids

A/N: Are you seeing those warnings? This is the filthiest smut fic I have ever written! Thanks to @agniavateira for listening to my ideas and providing with helpful pointers.

Title: Thank you, daddy

Lying in complete nakedness, your legs spread wide with little to no movement possible, you kept an eye on the sinfully beautiful man standing by the table picking up a bottle of lube in his hand. You discreetly tried to strain your wrists against the handcuffs tied to your ankles, trying to make no sound.

"Don't." Came his firm command. Steel blue eyes glared at you, halting your movements in an instant. You craned your neck to look at him, dropping your gaze down his shirtless body, travelling to his pelvis. Gulping nervously, you stared at his hardening cock straining against the front of his pants.

Your heart picked up a pace when August walked towards you, pink silicone toy in his hand glistening with the lube slathered over it. He had not even touched you and yet your cunt was already dripping wet. Desire burned in the pit of your belly when he knelt on the bed, his fingers delicately gliding up your thighs, stopping to hover over your warm center.

"You angered me today, kitten." He drawled, voice laced with formidable authority. Your senses tingled under his ardent gaze, mouth going dry as his fingertips brushed against your folds.

Biting your lower lip and bucking your hips to rub your pussy against his hand, you smiled coyly at the beholder of all your wildest fantasies. "I thought daddy liked my dress."

"I did. What I didn't like was how you decided to forgo your panties." August gritted his teeth, leaning to come to your face. His breath was laced with the smell of whiskey; his unique musk flooding your nostrils, stirring a voracious need. Eyebrows knitted together, his cerulean eyes bore into you with ferocious intensity. "Bending in front of the other men, flashing your cunt. Aren't you a little slut?"

His warm breath washed over your face, spreading over your heated skin as he took a moment to close his eyes. You looked at the tempting curve of his lips under the hood of his moustache, wetting yours with the tip of your tongue as a rapturous hunger took over you. You tried to touch his thigh near your ankle, the chain of the handcuffs jingling with your movements. Grunting as he opened his eyes, stealing your breath away with the fiery ardour in his orbs, August moved the toy from one hand to another and you heard the familiar buzzing of the vibrator. Before you could utter a sound, his mouth was on your neck while he rimmed the vibrating silicone phallus around your aching entrance.

Your body jerked in response, licentious moans falling from your lips as August assaulted your trembling pussy with the toy. You hissed when he bit down on the sensitive spot at the junction of your neck, your thighs quivering as he inserted the pulsating artificial member, twisting it to rub against the bundle of nerves inside. You closed your eyes with a shriek when August sat up, bringing his other hand to land a slap at your tits, moving to rub at your clit.

"Ask for permission when you want to cum." August growled, thrusting the gratifying object repeatedly inside your squelching cavern. You pulled at your restrains, wanting to touch your man, to feel his muscles under your fingertips. But August deprived you of that want, keeping your legs open with his elbow resting on your thigh while he drew you closer to your high.

As he worked his calloused fingers on your painfully stimulated clit, you felt the tightening in your belly, fervid urgency building up inside you. You gripped the sheets, groaning as the walls of your pussy clenched around the toy.

"Can I cum, daddy?" You rasped, the coil ready to break with your looming orgasm. "Please, can I cum?" You begged, tears springing in your eyes at the torturous denial of pleasure.

"Apologise for what you did." August ordered, hammering the toy inside you, leaving your glistening pearl to press down on your pelvis. You groaned at the renewed flame of wanton need to let go, crying as you couldn't hold it in any longer. With a scream you felt the coil snap, clear liquid spraying in a jet of stream, dampening the sheets as you saw stars behind your closed eyelids.

But it wasn't a moment for you to bask in your ecstasy as a stinging slap to your cunt made you yelp in agony.

"Ask." August scolded angrily, bringing his hand to smack at your reddening petals again. Your body lurched at the impact, your juices dribbling down your folds.

"Sorry, daddy." You sobbed, gulping lungful of air before apologising again. You couldn't help but whimper when August pulled the toy out of your trembling hole, only to moan when his fingers entered your cunt. Your toes curled as he hooked his digits, pounding his hand inside you and prodding the spot that had you arching your back.

"Daddy, please," You begged, heaving as the coil began winding again. "Can I cum, please?" You asked, writhing as August's fingers moved fervently, edging you closer to your release.

The dark walls of his bedroom echoed with only your strained moans and August's heavy breaths. Sweat covered your entire body as you concentrated on following August's orders or be punished again. His commanding "Yes" was all it took as your inner walls convulsed around his fingers, with an all consuming orgasm accompanied by shuddering muscles and luscious bliss.

While you floated down from your euphoric heaven, August discarded his pants and pumped his rigid cock with his hand.

"Daddy, I want you." You squeaked, reaching out to him with your bound hands.

Laying on your body, dark scruff on his chest grazing your flushed skin, August cradled your head in his hands. Caressing your cheeks with his thumbs, he captured your lips for a blazing kiss, moving his tongue along with yours, as you groaned into his mouth. His cock laid heavy and thick on your thigh, twitching when you sucked at his bottom lip until it turned red.

"You are a slut," He gently slapped at your cheek, smirking as he reached down between your bodies. He lined his bulbous tip at your unguarded entrance, and menacingly whispered, "But you are my slut." He brought his hand to your neck, pressing down, as he shoved his entire length inside your yielding cunt.

You wheezed, shutting your eyes at the intrusion. August rammed into you with fervour while keeping a steady pressure on your fragile neck. Your lungs fought against your rib cage, straining to take in air.

"Daddy," You chocked out, the sound of August's heavy balls slapping against your ass mingling with your gasps. He grunted above you, his pelvis rutting against your clit, the tip of his cock knocking at the apex of your womb.

When he let go of your airway, the sudden rush of unbridled delectation had your core squeeze around his cock, struggling screams leaving your lips as you were overcome with grappling rhapsody. August kept your legs from closing in on him by digging his fingers in the soft flesh of your thighs. He impaled your tormented pussy, chasing his high and with a guttural, animalistic groan he shot his thick load inside you, painting your walls white.

Sweat slicked bodies struggled to catch their breaths, as August rested against you. You winced when he pulled out, sitting back on his knees and running his fingers through your folds.

"Open up." He instructed, his eyes glimmering with malice, as you watched him get the thick concoction of your juices up to your lips. You licked his fingers clean, purring as you swallowed the salty liquid.

"Happy birthday, kitten." August pushed your hair out of your face. "You didn't ask to cum, but I'll let that last one pass."

Holding onto your ankles, you grinned at him and gleefully said, "Thank you, daddy."

[reading-wanderer]

A Compendium of Magical Artifacts

Chapter 9: Cage of Eternal Flame

Prompt: Burn

AO3 Link

[It takes you a while to find the page in question— it’s actually something like thirty seven pages Before the Nevermelt Ice page, oddly enough. You’re still kind of grumpy about it. All the pages seemed to have the right pictures with them, how had they managed to keep those together but not pages referencing each other? You knew the book wasn’t in order, but you had hoped that it would have at Least been After the Ice page. You’re starting to think it might be worth taking the book apart and rearranging some things when you finally decide to get out of this comfy chair, brave the busted up castle, and take it home in… probably less than an hour you decide after glancing out the window again. Finding this page took a lot longer than you expected. For now you just read the passage you spent all this time hunting down.]

Name: Cage of Eternal Flame, the Core of the Unfaltering Flame

Description: The cage looks like an old bird cage— round and tall with thin bars. The whole cage is pure flame and does not appear to have any kind of ‘door’. (Considering the cage’s captive is never meant to leave, it makes sense.)

Known Abilities: The cage is said to be made from the core of a fire ghost that somehow managed to take on the primal essence of fire and win. They were the only creature that could stand up to, and finally beat, the ghost known as Frozen Death. Their fire is said to be the hottest in existence and they could burn the entire Infinite Realms to ash were it not for, originally, their will and protection-based obsession. Now that they have been reduced to nothing more than a containment device, however, it is only the opposing element of the cage’s occupant that keeps the fire in check.

Location: Currently held in Molten Core by the Living Fire clan of ghosts.

Notes: While the ghost “Frozen Death” is spoken of with nothing but malice and anger by the fire cores that guard the cage, the “Unfaltering Flame” appears to be like a deity or hero to them. Their accounts of his exploits tend to be much more flattering despite how often they seem to include the ghost accidentally burning things around them and being forced, both by circumstance and other ghosts, to fix their mistakes.To me, it seems as if both ghosts, fire and ice, were out of control and could only be brought back into control of themselves around each other. It would be nice to be able to speak with an ice core clan to see if they have any stories of the duo that might give a more complete picture, but unfortunately the Yetis are the most powerful and oldest of the ice ghosts in this part of the Infinite Realms and they don’t seem to like me for reasons beyond my understanding. Perhaps there could be some kind of library in this Sector unaffiliated with either group. I will have to look into it later.

[Disappointingly, there doesn’t seem to be any more of the story written down or any other reference to the parts of the Nevermelt Ice notes that were ripped off. Now that you know that the pages are scattered worse than you had first thought, you think you might actually be able to find it elsewhere as you look through the book. Of course, even if you don’t find it, there’s plenty of other items in the book to keep your attention.]

[shewrites02]

Wounded |Shikamaru x Reader|

Summary: The reader is wounded while on a mission, This leads to a rift in their relationship

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: I'm new to putting Naruto fanfics on my Account. If you have an suggestions or requests I'm open to all of them. Thank you so much.

fuck! This was your ass when you got home, and you knew it. You pleaded to Lady Tsunade to send you on this mission, short of getting on your hands and knees you said and did anything in hopes of persuading her to say yes. Eventually she caved. Knowing very few things got you this emotional she couldn't bring herself to say no even if she had felt you weren't ready. Plus she knew even if she declined you would devise a scheme to end up there anyway, and she wasn't wrong. You had a plan a, b, and c just incase she was adamant in her refusal.

What you didn't have a plan for was explaining to Shikamaru what you were about to do. Go on a S ranked mission despite just clearing your Chunin examinations. When word finally did get back to him, he was furious! that same morning he marched into the Hokage's office and demanded answers.

"I understand you are angry, but I will not explain myself to the likes of you! You want an explanation you speak to your girlfriend!" She snapped at him.

He knew better than to argue further, to expose himself and allow himself to be vulnerable and open with his concerns even just in front of the Hokage. He also knew she was right, it wasn't really her he was angry at.

When the door swung open and slammed against the wall of yall's shared living space you knew who it was, and what was coming.

"Do you want to get yourself killed?!" Shikamaru belted out down the corridor of the small two bedroom apartment. When you did not respond he barged into the master bedroom forcing your attention.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" He continued "You must be invincible, death must not be a concern of yours. No your just that fucking strong despite needing three attempts to pass your Chunin exams."

His words stung, even brought tears to your eyes. You tried to remind yourself that they didn't come from a place of malice, but of concern. That did not stop them from hurting, it did not stop them from making you feel small, and weak.

"I need to do this!" You croaked stifling tears that threatened to fall. Your voice trying it's hardest to be strong.

"EVEN IF IT KILLS YOU?!" Shikamaru quickly rebutted.

you took a deep breath before calmly responding, as if to accept the words as they fell out of your mouth.

"Even if it kills me."

The way Shikamaru's eyes fell you could've sworn you'd thrown a kunai straight through his heart. He was gutted, almost to the extent of feeling betrayed.

"Even if that means leaving me here alone."

You could hear the tears trembling in his throat but not a single one fell. He simply turned and walked out the apartment. This was two days before you were supposed to leave, and was the last direct conversation you had with him before you're departure.

While on the journey Kakashi told you two things. One that he had promised Shikamaru that you'd return to the village even if it meant he did not and secondly that Shikamaru had asked him to give you note.

Inside was a detailed apology for suggesting that you were weak or incompetent. Shikamaru said he didn't want you leaving the village believing he had no faith in you or your abilities. Instead he outlined his fears for you. That you weren't ready physically or emotionally to tackle a mission such as this one, that the cost of this mission may have a higher price than you bargained for. Most importantly that you would never come back. He emphasized how much he loved you but was sure to let it be known how angry he was at you. Your complete disregard for his feelings and concern hurt him. He wrote of how unsure it was that he would be there when you returned. He wasn't sure if his methodical mind could forgive such reckless behavior.

That's all you could think of as you laid motionless on the cold forest floor, how correct Shikamaru was. The mission was a success but now you weren't even sure you'd be around to celebrate the victory that seemed to be worth your life just a week ago. In this moment your were heartbroken, distraught, most of all guilty.

The last memory the love of your life would have of you is you telling him that completing some personal vendetta was worth giving up spending the rest of yall's lives together. This was a risk you didn't have to take, a mission you weren't assigned to but you looked Shikamaru in his eyes and told him it was more important than him. And look at you now, fulfilling the very prophecy he feared you would. He would never forgive you for this.

The warm sensation of your blood coating the back of your hands, drew you out of your thoughts. The voices of Sakura and Kakashi were a faint whisper to you, despite the fact they were shouting at each other. You could make out Kakashi telling her to hurry and patch your wounds. He knew it would be a while before the medical core could make it all the way out here, and he wasn't sure you had that much time. He was hoping if Sakura could just stop the bleeding, he could carry you to the village himself. If she could only stabilize you he could do the rest.

"Kashi." You grunted out, twitching your fingers till they meet his hands. His panicked eyes looked over at you and softened some. He was trying hard not to let on how worried he truly was, but the usually stoic ninja, could not handle the thought of breaking his promise.

"Please... tell Shikamaru I'm sorry. Tell him he was right, he'll like that." A pained laugh fumbled from your lips, along with a weak smile.

"Tell him yourself."

You went to protest but felt every bit of chakra drain for your body. Kakashi and Sakura slowly began to fade until everything went black.

-

When you awoke the agonizingly bright lights along with the low hums of all the equipment were a clear indication of where exactly you are, The Leaf Village hospital.

"And she lives." Kakashi announced. A copy of make out tactics in hand, although his masks was up you felt he had a small smile plastered on his face. As you observed his clean, tidy appearance it was clear you had been here longer than it seemed.

"How long have I been here?"

"A week!" Lady Tsunade scolded her arms folded against her chest as she stormed in Sakura trailing behind her. "Just as I said You nearly got yourself killed out there!"

"But I didn't." You rebutted offering a meek smile. Despite Kakashi and Sakura's giggles Lady Tsunade was not amused.

While you scanned the crowded room, you couldn't help but notice Shikamaru was nowhere to be found. You knew he would be angry with you, but so angry he wouldn't even check up on you. Had you really spent a week in the hospital without a single visit from him? was it true you had survive this mission but your relationship had not? The eerie feeling was too strong to ignore, you couldn't even focus on Lady Tsunade chastising you.

"He's come by everyday!" Sakura interrupted pointing over to a bouquet of Jasmines and Roses, Ino no doubt picked for him.

"He.. didn't want to be here when you woke up." Kakashi confessed.

Sakura elbowed him, right in the middle of his ribs causing him to wince in pain. He nurtured his side shuffling his feet slowly away from her. Clearly he wasn't supposed to share that part. But you appreciated Kakashi's honesty, even if it did break your heart.

"I'll be walking you home." he continued throwing the backpack that you carried everywhere with you over your shoulder.

"Remember, you're on bed rest as soon as you make it home. If I even hear that you've be training so help me God!" Lady Tsunade narrowed her eyes to further emphasize her point. Message received loud and clear.

As you and Kakashi strolled through the village neither of you spoke. You were far to focused on what you might find when you returned home, while he just enjoyed the silence. He feared you might request his input with the situation you and Shikamaru had going on. He was sure all he would do is make you feel worse. The copy ninja was a man of few words, and none of them were inherently comforting.

Once yall approached the front door, you noticed the house completely dark, not even the shine of a table lamp. This was peculiar, your home was usually fully lit at this hour. Shikamaru would usually be home to eat lunch or at the very least find some peace away from his comrades to work out a strategy for a new mission he was assigned. No matter what the reason... he was always here and the house was always vibrant. This dark ominous empty home was not one you knew.

You tried to tell Kakashi that you were more than capable of carrying your bookbag in, but he insisted. You think he's just afraid if word gets back to the Fifth Hokage you exerted any type of unnecessary energy the blame would fall on him. But when the two of you walked across the threshold yall immediately stopped.

Shikamaru was home, sitting completely in the dark staring at the ceiling. The sound of the door opening not even making him move an inch.

"I'll, just leave this here." Kakashi mumbled, placing your bag beside you and walking out closing the door behind him.

Shikamaru still didn't move, not a glance your way, not a word spoken. Absolutely still and absolutely silent.  You wanted to jump on him, kiss him all over, tell him just how wrong you were. Tell him that with what you thoughts were your last breaths the only person you wanted to talk to was him. But you didn't, your guilt weighed so heavy on your chest it felt as if you couldn't speak.

You walked over sitting on the couch next to him, your hand meet his cheek and Shikamaru flinched making you quickly draw your hand back. It was as if he had just realized you were even there. Your eyes quickly examined every contour and mark on your boyfriends face. His flushed cheeks, the slightly puffy eyes that gleamed with a sutble red tinge. Could it be that your stoic aloof boyfriend had been sitting here crying all day? The sight shattered your heart into a million pieces. How could you do this to him? How could you be so selfish?

You reached out for his hand grasping it firmly almost as if you didn't grab him now he would be gone forever. In spite of not even being able to look at you Shikamaru held your hand just as tight.

"Shikam-"

"Do you know how mad I am at you?" he interrupted. "Lady Tsunade had to put you in a medically induced coma for a week... A FUCKING WEEK Y/N!"

"I'm sorry you were right. you were right, baby you were right." You cried tears streaming your face.  "I'm sorry."

You didn't wanna argue, you had no fight left in you. For God's sake you just wanted the man you loved to look you in your eyes. Tell you how much he missed you, that he was worried about you, and he's still in love with you. That he'll always be in love with you. But he was as cold as ever, he refused to cast his gaze upon you. instead his eyes continue to linger at the ceiling.

Shikamaru wanted to stay angry, as glad as he was to have you alive here with him he still wanted to punish you. He wanted you to hurt just like he did when he had to watch Kakashi carry you unconscious through the front gates, or when Lady Tsunade told him your injuries were to extensive to wake you up after surgery. or maybe when you looked him in his eyes and proclaimed how little your life was worth in comparison to a mission you weren't even officially assigned. Shikamaru wanted you to feel a fraction of what he has the past two weeks.

"Shikamaru... baby. Please, look at me." You begged him reaching for his face again. This time you forced his eyes to meet yours.

As angry as he was, when Shikamaru looked into your tear filled eyes he melted. After a week of watching you lay basically lifeless in a hospital bed, seeing that glimmer of life in your eyes nothing seemed to matter anymore.

"Baby, I'm so sorr-"

Shikamaru didn't let you finish your sentence, he crashed his lips into yours for a sloppy passionate kiss. He pulled you onto his lap never breaking away from you. His hands held your waist tight, you were sure he would leave marks, but the thought of letting you go was almost traumatizing for him. In his arms, he knew you were safe that you wouldn't run off again.

"I was so worried about you." He mumbled against yours lips, light gasp for air in-between his words. "I love you so much y/n... you can't die on me."

[jae-daddy]

Duff (7)

im jaebum au series

one / two / three / four / five / six /  seven / eight / nine masterlist

pairing: im jaebum x reader  genre: angst, smut, cheating, CEO!  plot: you are the duff and guys use you to get close to your best friend, Heather, and turns out Jaebum is no exception, but as time goes on the tension between you and your best friend’s unofficial boyfriend grows a/n: if ya like send something in or leave a comment! I love reading them! next part is going to be interesting, hope yall liked the bit of spice. not edited, hope y’all enjoy it! <3

“Stop,” Jaebum ordered.

Every nerve in your body told you to disobey and continue to walk out of his office, but your feet stopped. Your back faced him as your eyes settled on the plain dull wall in front of you, save for a painting that wasn’t much interesting.

It wasn’t truly his office yet. Jaebum hadn’t added any personal touches to the cold space in the past month of him acting Director. He remained detached from the office, employees and the job as much as he could.

Except for you, Jaebum always seemed to be looking for a way to get under your skin. Find new ways to bother you, to annoy you. It was almost as if he enjoyed seeing you fume at him with anger. Your face red with fury brought him peace and happiness. It made that easy cocky smirk on his lips grow each time his melting eyes met your raging ones.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said.

You didn’t turn around instantly. Instead, you took a deep breath in and turned with a vacant expression, “I’m sorry, sir. Was there something you needed?”

Jaebum shifted in the chair, annoyed. Once again, he wasn’t seated in the big boss chair on the other side of the desk. He chose one of the two placed on the other side instead, with papers splayed out in front of him, on the desk.

Your eyes went to the mess and your lips pursed. Your hands itched by your side to sort through the junk and organise everything in a proper fashion. But Jaebum knew what he was doing, he knew exactly where each paper was. He worked like a genius; chaotic and completely self-relied.

You looked back at him to find his lips drawn into a thin line, his brows drawn together as he stared up at you. For the first time, Im Jaebum did not have the cocky smile that normally danced on his lips. His eyes didn’t watch you as if he understood every thought that zoomed through your head.

He looked at you utterly lost, distraught and confused.

“Don’t try to play this game, y/n. Stop that, tell me what’s wrong, why have you been avoiding me.”

He was almost begging at this point, and for the first time in the past week, you smiled. It wasn’t a kind smile, it was cruel and relished his misery. Your tight posture relaxed as you tilted your head holding his troubled gaze as you sang, almost taunting, “I have no idea what you are talking about. I have not been avoiding you, sir.”  

Jaebum rose out of his seat and towered over you in an instant. He gritted, “Stop calling me that.”

“Calling you what, sir?”

Jaebum’s eyes darkened as he took another step towards you. You didn’t move away, you held your ground, your head tilting back to meet his stormy gaze. His jaw ticked as he sneered, “Do you enjoy this? Do you find pleasure in torturing me like this?”

“Torturing you?” You tsked, the smirk on your face growing, hiding the pounding heartbeat in your ears. You turned walking away before spinning on your red-bottom heels, “If someone were to hear, they’d think I was actually hurting you, sir.”

“Stop it!” He spat, the anger leaving him. All Jaebum was left with was desperateness as he continued, “Stop calling me sir, y/n. I’m trying to have a conversation with you as a friend--”

“A friend?” You chuckled, cutting him off. “We are not friends.”

“So we’re back to this again?”

“Yes, we are.” It was your turn to sneer at him as you took a step towards him. All coolness evaded your body and all you felt was red and hot. Anger sparked through every core of your body, your eyes shone with distaste, as you looked down your nose at him, “I will never be friends with a loathsome disgusting dog like you.”

“Dog?” Jaebum snickered at the weak insult, but the embers of the fire began lighting up inside him as he watched your lips draw into a scowl.

“Yes, a dog. A terrible, horrible cheating dog.”

“Is that the best you can do?” Jaebum jeered raising his eyebrows mockingly. “Call me a dog and say nonsense?”

“I am not speaking nonsense, you bastard,” you spat. Jaebum flinched at your words, but you continued, the fire blazing inside you. “I saw you and that woman in your office that day. Don’t think I will forget that easily. I know how disgusting you are.”

“What day--”

“Or do you mean which day-” you cut him off, stepping closer to him. The poison hissing from your tongue, “You have flirted with any woman that you ever crossed path with; at the club, at work! It doesn’t matter to you that you have a girlfriend, and you might think it’s okay, but it is not. I would never do that to my friend. I won’t sit back and hold my tongue-”

“Then why haven’t you done something about it if I’m so bad,” Jaebum cut you off this time. The easy smile returned on his lips, dancing with malice as he looked down at you as if you were a crazy lady talking about stars and the end of the world. “If you can’t differentiate between being friendly with others and flirting, then that’s on you, not on me. It’s not my fault you're an emotionless closed off mumpsimus who doesn’t know that people can simply just be nice to one to another--”

“Yes!” You scoffed up at him. “Because almost fucking a lady on your desk is just being friendly.”

“I was not about to fuck her!”

“Oh yeah?” You nodded, sarcastic.

“I was not cheating. I was not flirting with her.”

“Then what were you doing, Jaebum?” Your eyes were blazing with so much rage you felt as if it would consume you. “Do you hug everyone on your desk? How did Paul like it when you dry-humped him on the desk and called it a friendly hug?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jaebum groaned, “It was just a hug and she slipped! I was helping her get steady!”

“And I just happened to walk in that exact moment. What a crazy coincidence!”

“If you’re so certain, why haven’t you told anyone then?” Jaebum questioned, after a deep breath. “You tell Heather everything, why haven’t you told her this yet?”

“She already knows what I think of you.”

Jaebum tried not to flinch at your words, “But have you told her about what you apparently saw last week in this office?”

Your cheeks painted red, as you tore your eyes away from him. You stared at the wicked desk instead, “No.”

“Why not?” He drawled, as he took a step closer towards you.

Your chest swelled with resentment as you refused to look at him and the victorious smile you knew was on his lips. You bit your tongue before you answered, each word cutting your throat, “I was not sure.”

“What was that?” He crooned, you could hear his smile. You felt the chuckle in his cool breath as it brushed your forehead. When you didn’t reply, Jaebum placed a finger under your chin and lifted your eyes to meet his.

His haunting gaze still shone with anger, but his lips painted the picture of the easy ocean after a stormy night.

You wanted to smack that smile from his lips. You wanted to erase the victory bubbling inside of him. You met his eyes, not looking way. Your mind repeating one thought over and over again.

I hate you.

It was unfair to blame all these emotions on Im Jaebum when it was not all his doing. You knew Jaebum wasn’t a flirt by choice, but by nature. He was like a golden retriever who couldn’t help but spread love wherever he went. And he didn’t just get friendly with any woman around his age, but with old grandmas, mothers, other males and grandfathers too. It was just who he was.

You knew you were being harsh, you knew it. But you couldn’t back down.

You would rather blame it on Jaebum. You would rather pretend that it was all his fault that you hadn’t been smiling, sleeping or eating this past week. You didn’t want to give that asshole this power over you; you didn’t want to admit the power he still had over you.

Jaebum’s eyes searched yours and the storm in them vanished. His eyes held yours, his fingers on your chin holding you in place as he searched through your mind. And just like always, he finally found the answer. You saw the recognition shine in his eyes; he knew this wasn’t about him.

You knew it wasn’t this that you had you so removed from life. But it wasn’t like Jaebum didn’t do anything wrong too. You still didn’t know what had happened between Jaebum and that lady, or more like, what would have happened had you not walked in at that moment.

“I walked in too early, Im Jaebum,” you exhaled, the venom dancing on your tongue as you met his cool gaze. Your eyes burned bright once again in accusation, “If I had walked in a second later, I would have caught you red-handed.”

“Red-handed?” Jaebum repeated, the smile easy on his lips, the raise of his eyebrows graceful, “Red-handed doing what exactly?”

You glared at him, “I would have found you about to fuck her.”

Jaebum chuckled in reply. The burn of his fingers easing on your chin. He opened his eyes, a new kind of darkness in his eyes; his lips smirking with secrecy.

His fingers lingered on your chin, his thumb grazing your lower lip, his eyes falling for a moment. Your heart stopped when you saw him lean in closer, but then he stopped.

His fingers were a whisper against your skin. It lightly traced down your throat, over your faint collarbones and over your shoulders. His fingertips grazed down your back smoothly, his touch burning through the flimsy white shirt you wore. His fingers stopped on your lower back, before both his hands landed on your hips. His fingers spreading over the curve, searing you with its touch.

His hands gently nudged you backwards, making you take a step back. Jaebum’s steps followed you, making you walk backwards until you felt the edge of the dark wood on your lower back.

Jaebum’s eyes never left yours as he eased you onto the desk. Your legs parted effortlessly as Jaebum slipped between them; your skirt bunching up as it rose up your thigh. Jaebum’s hands finally left your body and your chest expanded.

The ghost of his touch burned you with its sudden coldness.

A strong arm reached behind you on the right. His left hand fell on your knees, slowly, dangerously moving up.

You weren’t breathing; you couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move under his touch.

You couldn’t move under his heated gaze.

Jaebum’s eyes did not leave yours as he leaned in closer. His dark eyes flickering to your lips, a knowing small smile on his lips as your chest heaved. You gulped nervously as his lips drew closer, so close you could taste his breath on your tongue.

You closed your eyes as you felt him lean in closer. His tortuously slow left hand deliciously moved higher, his fingertips gracing the inside of your thighs.

His lips touched you, barely missing your lips. A small sigh left you, and you felt a smile blossom on his soft lips. Jaebum placed another kiss, lower, and then another. Another soft sigh fell from your lips when his lips kissed your neck; you felt his lips drag upwards towards your ear.

His fingertips dug into your thighs, as he gently blew into your ear. You held your breath to stop the whimper from escaping you. You felt so hot; you were sure if Jaebum's fingers as much as travelled any bit further he would be able to feel your body reacting to him.

You could feel your core tangled and a mess of nerves, and a heartbeat down below, in anticipation.

“I have barely touched you and you’re such a beautiful little mess, love,” Jaebum whispered into your ear. You closed your eyes swallowing the painful truth in his words and the shame climbing over your body. “Trust me, if I ever wanted to fuck someone you wouldn’t have to guess. You would know.”

You believed him. If something more was happening that day, you would have known.

You felt him move away, but you kept your eyes closed. Your breath leaving you shakingly as you tried to regain control over yourself. You could feel him look at you; you felt his gaze burn you as he took you in.

You wondered what he saw. How much could he see?

Could he see your cheeks deep with a blush? Your lips wet with anticipation? Your chest heaving? Your breath shattering? All because of him and his nearness, how much could he see... what did he think of it...

Could he see your mind racing with thoughts of him? Racing with all that could happen next? His lips on yours, your moans filling up the quiet office as he groaned, filling you up, spreading you wide open on his desk.

Could he see how you were trying to control yourself?

You opened your eyes and wished you hadn’t. You would rather see them clouded with rage, even unfiltered lust would be better than the softness you found. The honey brown in his eyes met your gaze with desire, want and longing.

It was disgusting.

It was terrible.

It was horrifying how Im Jaebum could make you feel when he was looking at you like that. As if his hands burned beside him, begging to touch you. As if he would cease to exist if he did not touch you, kiss you, hold you. As if you were all he could ever want in the world, but you were the only thing he could never have.

You would rather take animalistic lust over that.

You tore your eyes away from him. Jaebum took a step back and you hopped off the desk. You straightened your skirt avoiding his face. But Im Jaebum wasn’t looking at you as well, his gaze focused on the floor but his mind somewhere far away.

“I won’t worry Heather with this,” you croaked out. Jaebum nodded absent-mindedly, and you began walking out. You were almost to the door when you stopped. You bit your lip, unsure, but decided to say it anyway, “Don’t take it personally, Jaebum. It’s not you, I’ve just been in a mood and caught up with something else. I- I guess, that’s why you thought I was avoiding you.”

“Oh,” Jaebum replied, softly. You turned around to find him giving you all his attention, “Is there something I can do to help you?”

You shook your head with a small smile, “No.”

The moment you had been dreading finally arrived that afternoon.

“Good evening, Meridian Firm,” you answered, automatically. You hated answering phone calls, you would rather email.

“Hello, I’m calling from Spring Industries-”

You knew. You knew.

“I’m calling on behalf of our CEO Park Jinyoung,” the lady on the other spoke, and you tried to control your breathing. “He would like a meeting with Director Im.”

“I will let Director Im know.”

“Can we pencil a meeting date right now, and you can confirm it later? My boss really wants an answer,” the lady on the side spoke sounding more humane.

You knew what she meant by that too. You knew how he got when he didn't get what he wanted.

“Of course,” you pulled out the calendar planner looking for the next empty date, “How is next week Thursday at five-thirty in the evening?”

“Hmm, let me check,” you heard a few clicks on the other side, and prayed it wouldn’t match. “Oh, perfect! Hope to hear from you soon!”

“Alright, goodbye,” you say before hanging up. You sighed, tired, as you run your fingers through your hair.

You knew this moment was coming, but you hadn't expected it to come so soon. You weren’t sure if you were ready. Your stomach churned at the thought of seeing him again.

“Hey, you alright?”

You looked up to find Im Jaebum standing by your desk with concerned eyes. You nodded, smiling slightly at how adorable he looked worried, “I’m good.”

“I...” he started but trailed off. “Let’s go get dinner.”

You were about to say no when he added, “Heather and Bam are already on their way. And Heather said she wants you there.”

You sighed, exhausted, “Alright.”

“Oh, and uh,” you paused, biting your lips, breathless. “The CEO of Spring Industries wants to meet you next week Thursday at five-thirty, how should I reply?”

“Am I free?” You nodded in reply. Jaebum just shrugged, nonchalant, “Cool, tell them yes.”

You nodded once again, doom already clouding over you.

[chanluster]

playing the game | {m} ; slight {f}

oneshot | 4k words

“Because the only way to catch your boyfriend’s attention is to play a game of your own.”

s u m m a r y >> all you wanted was some nice, alone time with your time with your boyfriend, only to have the prick playing rounds of call of duty with his friends. so, you concoct a plan, starting a game which he could not help but take part in, and thoroughly enjoy the consequences.

w a r n i n g s >> teasing, making out, (kinda) dirty talk, handjob, aggressiveness, unprotected sex (stay safe homies!) hyunjin and felix try to be massive cock blockers, aftercare (kind of lmao)

a / n >> this is made thanks to ali’s request and my ass getting horny over minho’s orange hair dear god he’s so hot - anyway, i hope you enjoy, homies!

back to masterlist

YOUR BROWS KNITTED IRRITABLY WHEN YOU WERE IGNORED ONCE MORE.

“Minho.”

No response. Once again, the said-boy chose to dismiss his name on your tongue.

Crossing your arms, you watched your boyfriend sit cross-legged before the TV, eyes trained on the match before him as his back barely touched the bed behind him. The sound of the joysticks clicking harmonised with the bullets firing in the screen, the first person player ducking behind shelter. Various junk food surrounded his settling, crisps and chocolates scattered to be eaten between breaks. 

A roll of eyes escaped you. 

Minho looked like an animal. His orange hair was disheveled from all the hand raking, bulky headphones covering his ears. His black jumper had its sleeves rolled up, meaning only business, and sweatpants of the same colour hugged his thighs a little too nicely, his phone sitting atop his knee as it buzzed with every text from his friends.

It was ridiculous. Crazy how he had not changed his position for the past four hours. There had to be a time when he paused, but the moment did not arrive to assist you.

“Minho!” You exclaimed. Once again, no response.

Like you said. Ridiculous.

It was a lazy weekend evening, and you had hoped to spend this rare opportunity to relish each other’s company, possibly become wrapped up in your own little games with him. Unfortunately for you, the piece of shit was too engulfed with ‘the boys’ to even notice you standing at the doorway, calling his name countless times. 

His complete ignorance made you incredibly annoyed. It didn’t help much that you were feeling a little aroused moments before — it was the reason you arrived in his room, expecting to have your insides rearranged, but your boyfriend was already doing that, but to another player by rifling him bloody.

“Yes, yes, yes! Wait, there’s a man to your right! Hyunjin, to your fucking right!”

A hard scoff left your lips, stepping into his room, an expanse of mint-coloured walls and books everywhere, evidence of his hard work. His bed was made perfectly, you noticed with a swelling heart, knowing he had probably cleaned it for your arrival. 

You walked over to where he sat, staring at his player stalking forward, reaching for ammo in a nearby storage box. A string of curses caught your ears, listening to Hyunjin scream in frustration as he’s killed off.

Settling yourself down beside him, you looked to him. “Minho,” you got out.

His eyes were still glued to the screen when he said, “Hey, baby.” Suddenly, he cursed, pressing on the buttons aggressively. “Felix, stop shooting in the fucking leg!”

The more he opened his mouth, the more you wished to smack his annoyingly beautiful face, but an idea, a drastic, incredibly insane idea entered your mind. 

Your lips curved into a smirk, going unnoticed.

“Minho?” You asked, sweetening your voice as you snuggled closer to your boyfriend. 

“Hmm?” The clicking grew louder as the boy began to grin, killing off the first of the last three left in the opposing team. “Aww, fuck yeah!” He brought the headphone mic to his lips, malice smeared upon them. “I’m gonna be in the final, pricks!”

You ignored the incessant complaining of his friends, turning to face him. “Minho, can I please cuddle?” You asked, eyes wide. 

Hands pressing on the volume button, he lowered the sound of his annoying teammates, glancing at you with a soft smile. “Course,” he said, holding his controller in one hand as he stretched his arms out, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck, completely attached to him like a koala, legs on either side of him. The boy then locked the hug with his hands, using the controller once more as he started the final part of his match. “Alright, dickheads, let’s win this game. Save for Hyunjin, fucking loser.”

You smiled against his jumper, grip on his neck tightening. 

You better hope you win.

Raising your head just lightly, you spare one last look at your boyfriend before you closed your eyes, and planted your lips upon his neck.

And began your own game of the night. 

You felt Minho still, ever so slightly, beneath your touch. 

However, he became preoccupied with the game, as you heard prompting within his headphones from his friends. You furrowed your eyebrows in annoyance, but quickly reigned in your irritancy as you slowly opened your mouth, teeth skimming over his skin to test the waters.

Minho, who was about to tell Hyunjin to fuck off for the nth time, paused, and a small hiss escaped him when you carefully sucked onto his supple skin, so slow, so gradual, knowing the boy you were trying to ruin was using every ounce of his patience not to groan into the mic.

His friends would instantly know if he let a moan escape. Call of Duty isn’t exactly a sexy game.

You slithered out your tongue, and lapped it over the raw creation upon his neck, earning a bated exhale from your victim, who could only stare at the TV screen to not lose his game. Or his sanity.

Tutting, you planted his lips, repeating the sensuous action with a new sense of determination.

Poor, poor Minho. Should have focused on the game I’m playing.

Your hands, which were vacant upon his neck, began assisting your plan, one finding comfort within his fire-like locks, and the other, the more important, the more fatal, sliding down.

And down. And down.

It stopped right to the base of his sweatpants, fingers tracing the treasure hidden a few layers beneath. The moment your hands touched the rough outline Minho yelped, dropping his phone onto the carpeted floor. His clumsy thumbs directed his player right in no man's land, exposing him to the opponents fire range.

Chuckling onto his skin, you painted another hickey onto him, ravishing one side of his throat as Minho whined softly at your efforts, restlessly working on the controller to get back to safety. You heard the confused voices of his friends in the loud headphones, asking him what that “weird ass sound” came from. The flustered boy muted his mic and paused the game, seconds ticking till the shoot down would continue on its own.

You were about to mould him another bruise when Minho’s hand on the mic gripped onto your chin, yanking you from his neck and making you face him. The moment your eyes locked, you gasped.

If you thought Minho looked like an animal before, the opinion had changed. The boy now looked like an aroused demon, staring at you in a way which had your core singing at the warnings. Curving your lips, you challenged him with your gaze, daring him to end the game entirely and spend the night the way you wished so ardently.

Perhaps he wanted to as well, because he whispered, iron in his voice, “Do not tempt me,____.”

You scoffed at his warning, distinctly remembering the hand that was planted upon his crotch, fingers still roaming. “And what if I do?” you taunted, smirk still playing on your lips.

Minho was ready to risk it all when the game signalled its continuance, and immediately his focus shifted to the screen and the bullets firing at his player. 

“Minho, you son of a bitch, turn the mic on!” Complaining voiced into his headphones, and the son of a bitch obliged, turning his mic on once more, leaving you look more or less like a fool. 

You gritted your teeth. Dear God, I’m going to make him pay!

The hand which casually rested on his semi-hard crotch, with a new objective, wrapped around the outline, fingers grazing its form with your nail. With a smug quirk of your lips you found it twitching slightly against the fabric.

A strained grunt emitted from his mouth, and he gripped his controller hard enough to snap. “You’re not going to make me lose,___.”

“Bro, the fuck? You’re playing games with your girl—?”

“You better not, Minho,” you whispered, using your free hand to grab a headphone side, craning it back to give access to his ear.

Your words had the man nearly mewling right into the mic.

“Or else you’ll lose my hands on your cock.”

Minho jerked at the threat, causing the controller to slip from his hands. The object thudded on the floor, upturned upon the carpet among the sugary mess of his snacks. 

“___,” he guttered, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood erect, much like the cock that thrummed within the pads of your fingers soon. “Don’t fucking play with me.”

“Let me get that remote control for you, babe,” you only offered, losing your hand from his crotch, earning a small whine from your boyfriend. You stretched, grabbing the controller, and turned once more to him.

You placed the object in his hold, cupping his hands and stroking the slender fingers which held the sole object of his victory. Victory not only in the battlefield, but in his bedroom, claiming it through the ravishing of your body underneath him.

“Minho? Earth to the motherfucker who’s gonna lose the game—”

“Shut up, Hyunjin,” the boy snapped, and grumbling was heard before his friend was silenced, chuckling emitting from Felix through the headphones. 

Eyes taking you prisoner, Minho grabbed onto the controller with an iron will, continuing the game. 

“Go on,___,” he taunted, a small smirk sharpening his mouth. “We’ll see who wins the game.”

Your answering grin was enough to have his cock twitching.

Your hands, now vacant, found home straight there, the fabric risen slightly. With your fingers wrapping around the covered shaft, you trailed your hand down, and up, and then down, creating friction within his layers. 

With a sucked in breath his cock shot upwards, angrily outlining itself against his sweatpants. His focus wavered on the screen, barely able to avoid death as he hid behind a vandalised building. 

“You’re going to kill me,” he rasped out, you surprised to find his breathing already a little ragged. Malicious pride flooded your features, and you only kissed the corner of his mouth in response, earning a hiss from his truly. 

“Don’t lose focus, babe,” you murmured, planting another open mouthed kiss upon his cheek. “Or else you’ll lose.”

“Minho, what the fuck is happening?” Hyunjin’s irritated voice crowed into the mic, but the boy, with a single hand, ripped the headphones from his ears, tossing them across. “Minho?!”

“Shut the fuck up, prick!” He shouted, desperation laced in his tone as he frantically tried to kill his opponents. 

You, on the other hand, closed yourself further in, your other hand cupping his jaw while the more important travelled to the band of his sweatpants, sliding inside.

“Fuck—”

You ignored his string of further curses, melting at the heated member which stood furiously erect at your actions. 

“Already so affected by me, babe?” You cooed, index finger tracing the thicker skin, the length of him, the idea of this raging cock driven inside of you. 

“If you don’t shut your mouth,___, I swear to God—”

“Or what, Minho?” You pressed your lips upon the corners of his jaw. “You’ll shut me up with your cock?”

When you journeyed to the top of his member you feel the warm pre-cum, starting to stain his sweatpants. You wrapped your fingers around him, beginning your first action to his downfall.

The moment your hands descended down his shaft he let out a rather loud moan, aggravated and fuelled with pleasure. You repeated the action, up and down, slowly, careful not to pick up the pace, not to have your boyfriend already cumming into your hands. You refused to let him have the satisfaction.

“Jesus, fuck—” he breathed out, and perhaps you threw him the bone of your gradual rapidity of your ascending and descending upon his cock, his incessant groaning gradually getting louder. “___, I’m going to—”

“Minho,” you started, pausing your task. The boy complained, but you held strong, caressing his ear with your lips. “You better win the game first. Eyes on the screen.”

Lee Minho, who never listened to anyone or anything, shocked you when he almost broke the controller trying to find the last man standing on the battlefield. “I don’t see your hand working, babe,” he provoked, and you giggled at his over-enthusiasm laced in his torment, and obliged when you began your faster pace of moving your hand, already making the boy pant over your skill. 

Your mouth, in the meantime, occupied itself with peppering kisses upon his face, avoiding his lips because you knew he’d melt right into your touch. Even then he leaned in more to your kisses, causing him to avoid death countless times within the game.

“You better be prepared when I win the game,___,” he declared in a husky rasp. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

Although that had your core tightening in pleasure, you smirked. “I’d like to see you try,” you countered back, increasing your speed and having Minho practically eating off your hand. You gave kudos to his self control, but you had a small feeling it was on a tight leash.

And every tight leash is more likely to snap.

The boy, shaking hands fumbling on his controller, advanced on his enemy, weapon out and ready to obliterate his final objective.

It was then you smacked his lips against his, enveloping him in a kiss which completely threw him off guard. 

You heard the sound of bullets firing in the TV screen, and a thud! of a body hitting against the concrete floors of the destination.

Minho pulled away from the kiss, eyes wide with shock as he observed the results.

His player, slumped in shame behind the winner, proudly standing with his prized gun and camo gear adorned. 

You looked back at the results board showing up on the screen, and see the lack of your boyfriend’s name on the top of the leaderboard.

“Tsk, tsk, babe,” you mocked, the most smug little smile upon your lips. You slithered your hand out of his sweatpants, both hands now upon his thighs. “Looks like you lost the game.”

His eyes locked with yours, and something was shifting, but you dismissed it, chuckling as you heaved up, dusting yourself off as if you hadn’t just given your boyfriend ultimate blue balls.

You turned on your heel, about to leave the room when Minho’s satanic mumble froze you entirely. 

“I still have one more game to finish,___.”

You whirled back, and you yelped to see the boy standing not two inches before you, gaze so predatory you felt your legs weaken at the mere sight.

“You didn’t,” you started, but the more you stared the more your words began to fade. Jesus in his sweet little stable, you really did think you were going to fall. “You...you didn’t win, Minho.”

With a harsh scoff the boy gathered you up in his arms, a startled noise escaping you when he carried you bride-style, and practically threw you on that crisp, clean bed he had prepared all those hours ago.

“Sure, I didn’t win the last one,” he drawled, and you were about to leak with the way he prowled towards you. He secured his position atop you, legs on either side of you, and leaned in till your face was a hair’s width from yours.

“But I’m not losing in your game.”

You nearly moaned straight away when he imprisoned you with his kiss, capturing your lips and moving them perfectly with his. Your hands instantly found refuge in his hair, his locks which tickled your face as he kissed you crazy.

His own fingers travelled to your waist, creeping inside your top, each touch of his skin against yours like fire licking against the expanse. God, it was like you had dropped yourself in the underworld, and his hands were raging waves of fire, threatening to decimate you. The worst part was you welcomed this destruction. 

He broke the kiss, gasping for air before attacking the rest of your face with his lips, fingers still spreading heat while the other hand began its descent down your jeans, palming his desired destination. 

A loud moan shamelessly emitted from your mouth, and Minho smirked with the same lack of shame you possessed, ravishing your throat the same way you did not so long ago. His teeth painted love bites down his trail, and you ravaged his hair, tugging at his shirt in pleading to take it off.

“I’m already winning, huh?” He whispered, ragged voice so incredibly hot you grabbed the hem of his shirt and peeled the useless piece of clothing off him, tossing it to the floor. 

“Just shut up and kiss me,” you got out, and with wicked laughter he made you wait, tugging at your own shirt to even the odds. You took it off, joining Minho’s clothing, and were back upon each other’s mouths, opening up enough for Minho to slide his tongue inside you. 

Your bare chests collided as you raised yourself a little higher, hands on the band of his sweats as you yanked them down. Minho abandoned his sweatpants upon the floor, and did the same of you, mouth watering at the sight of your red lace, a little present you hoped he would see earlier. His blatant staring had you flushing the colour of your underwear, and he caught you, grinning wildly at your flustered nature.

“Awww,” he cooed, throwing your jeans in the pile. “Now you’re getting shy?” He hooked a finger under your lace, slowly, too fucking slowly dragging the material down. “Where was this blush when you were playing with my cock?”

“Minho!” You whined, digging your nails in his skin. “Damn it, just fuck me!”

Cruel laughter rang around the bedroom. “Oh, so when you’re needy, I just obey you? Just like that?” His lust-blown eyes regarded your slick cunt, and pride engulfed him, knowing your arousal was completely his doing. 

“Please,” you let yourself beg, because at this point, your desire had conquered your common decency — the need for your boyfriend to pound you till morning had overtaken the need to slap the conceited smirk off his face. “Please, Minho—”

The pleading had him bruising your mouth with his, as he too pried off his underwear, cock still throbbing from the teasing you left unfinished. The recent memory of you sliding your hand up and down his shaft still drove him to near insanity, and by God if he did not drive the bloody thing inside you he truly would become deranged. 

Pulling apart, Minho presses his forehead against yours as he guided his head to your entrance, gleaming with arousal and a promise of one hell of a fucking night. “Say the words,” he demanded, and this time you gritted your teeth. Stubborn till the end, I see. 

“Fuck you.”

Your response was a shit-eating grin, as he slowly retracted his member. “Wrong,” he jeered.

“Minho—!” You exclaimed hysterically, reminding yourself that you’re going to kill him when all of this is over. As of now, you were silently hoping he would kill you with his cock.

“Beg for it,___,” he ordered as he grazed his head against you, and you cursed yourself for being so pig-headed, for depriving yourself this opportunity. 

“Please!” Your breathing turned short, clinging onto the boy for dear life. “Please, just fuck me already—”

With the magic words, Minho clasped his lips upon yours as he drove his cock straight into you.

Your pleasured scream nearly brought down the roof, but he drowned it out with his lips, stubborn as they moved so amazingly, almost in sync to each thrust he sent your way, each time he slid his cock in and out, in and out till you were certain you were going to see stars. Although you had fucked Minho many times before, today, your mewling was louder, your grip on his shoulders a little tighter and your heart more inclined to burst in your rib cage. 

Your consistent beseeching was music to his ears, and you felt your peak nearer and nearer, whimpering the warnings to Minho that you were going to die, and you would gladly accept this demise if it promised such unadulterated pleasure. The boy hastily nodded, sweat-slick locks sticking to his face, burying his face in your neck as he held you close.

“Minho, please, I-I’m going to—Ah!” You yelped with the sheer force of his thrusts, rolling your eyes back subconsciously as your grip nearly slipped on his back. You did not care that your peak would probably snap you in half. You did not care about anything but Minho’s cock, showing you the constellations of the universe. 

When your orgasm finally caught up on you it threatened to break you — your moans were bellowed across the room, were so obscenely loud but had little in you to care when Minho held onto you every minute of it, the last grip of stability in your fucked out vision. The one man who brought you down from your myriad of fantasies, washing all over you. 

The boy’s own cock sought relief, barrelling his release inside you, some escaping from your cunt and staining the sweat-slick sheets. The symphony of panted breaths harmonised with the heightened groaning of your voice, and at last Minho pulled out, slumping beside you on the bed. 

You tried to calm your breathing, ragged and almost painful with its irregularity moments before. His breaths were laboured too, one hand upon his rising and setting chest. A strange sense of calm washed over you, and was confirmed further when, with a small gasp, you felt the sheets being pulled over you. 

Turning, you faced the tired, yet happy face of Minho’s, lazily smiling as he closed his eyes, leaning against the divan. You returned his smile, snuggling up to him, planting your head against his chest.

His voice reverberated against your cheek as he said, “Looks like I won, baby.”

You looked up, shooting him a fatigued, yet incredulous look which had him huffing out a laugh. “You’re insufferable.” You mumbled, and were about to leave his presence when he wrapped his arms around you, refusing to let you go.

”And you’re exquisite,” he responded, propping his chin atop your head, stroking your arm with a soothing hand. 

Heart fluttering, you wrapped his your arms around him, breathing him in, relishing in his presence, secretly thanking the stars above that he’s real and he’s beside you, moments after fucking you. 

You were about to say something sweet when a familiar voice screeched into existence. 

“OH MY FUCKING GOD—!”

Both of you jumped at the exclamation, eyes widening when you both caught sight of Minho’s headphones in the corner of the room.

“MINHO, YOU DIRTY MOTHERFUCKER—”

When the two of you locked eyes, disbelief crossed your features.

“Babe,” you began, stare widening, “Did you... not...mute your mic…?”

Your question was answered, but not by your boyfriend. 

“Minho, if you were gonna rail ___ then you could have muted the goddamn mic—”

“Oh fuck,” Minho got out, and you cupped your mouth with your hands in shock, watching the boy run towards his mic, despite being stark naked. He picked up his headphones, saying, “Guys, I’m so sorry, holy shit—”

“I hate you, Minho!” You screeched, all the blood in your body rushing to your cheeks. You could only pull the sheets over yourself, hoping the bed could swallow you up forever. 

Guilty laughter escaped from the boy, and you didn’t even perk your head over to flip him off. 

You could hear the grin in his next words, and although you wanted nothing more than to strangle his dumb ass, it still made you blush even harder, letting yourself smile at his response. 

“I love you, too!”

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

Irritation weaved through your limbs, devouring every nerve and cell with no remorse. The only remedy that was available for the virus contaminating your blood sat ahead of you, belittling you with the familiar scent that would tickle your nose whenever the waitress would slip on by. There was a reason you vowed to remain sober for the evening. Ingesting liquor would simply draw out the one emotion you were strategically masking with artificial laughter and twinkling smiles. Your new acquaintances found entertainment in your façade, and they made no inquiry into the truth behind your sarcastic words. For the smile painted across your lips indicated that you were satisfied with their company, they did not have even the slightest inkling of the emotions sickening your core.

Your best friend did, however, catch the tremors in your fingers, and the incessant tapping that sounded underneath the table. Oikawa tried to console you, with exaggerated praise and comedy. The others at the table were consumed by the performance, but your mind would not permit you a moment of peace.

It had been hours since you spoke to your two friends about locating your fiancé. Their silence was uncharacteristic and supplied confirmation that your fiancé did something, or perhaps was going to do something. Something that none of the others would dare to say. This newfound loyalty towards the cook was puzzling to say the least.

But was it really a matter of loyalty…? What could he have done that would compel silence from three of your best friends? Was it that terrible that each of your friends refused to be the bearer of bad news?

With your questions unanswered, the only option was to forget they existed.  

Curling your fingers around the stem of the glass, the cold liquid was brought to your lips, earning you cheers from your new friends. The chocolate shavings defeated the bitterness your throat had craved, yet you were thankful for the weight the alcohol had lifted from your shoulders.

One drink turned into two, then three… and then four. When you endeavoured to order a fifth, Oikawa intercepted, swapping your glass with his. Instead of abiding with his request to sober-up, you scooped out an ice cube from the water glass then flicked it at Francisco.

“What was that for?”

“Well, Juliana said you were too hot, so I thought I’d cool you down.” The words were purred out slowly and followed by a half-hearted wink.

“Y/n, you know that’s not how it works.” Oikawa contemplated apologizing on your behalf, but your antics did not seem to phase the model.

“Shh, I don’t wanna hear your voice.” A single finger was pressed against the setter’s mouth, which twitched into a pout. Turning your attention away from him, you pressed yourself against the table edge, then leaned forward, dropping your voice to a whisper. “You guys know my best friends are more loyal to my fiancé than they are to me?”

“Y/n…” Guilt twisted into a dagger that planted directly inside of Oikawa’s heart. He was keeping this secret for you, not for the damn cook. He knew that come tomorrow; the younger Miya’s presence would replace the pain circling your thoughts with happiness. That was all he wanted. Your happiness. But he should have known this would backfire, patience was not your strong suit.

“I don’t think that’s true, y/n. I saw your social media. These guys care a lot about you.” Francisco countered after witnessing the grief in the setter’s eyes. From their limited interaction, the model was able to pick up on certain things – he knew the bond between you and Oikawa ran deeper than any friendship he could claim to have. He was envious of your relationship, really. And he also knew that it was the liquor that prompted your allegations, not the truth.

“Nope,” Popping your P’s, you shook your head. “Only Hajime cares about me. He’s the only one who is loyal to me! Isn’t that right, Tooru?” Both of your eyebrows were provided a taunting lift, but you knew he would never admit to a lie.

“You know it’s not.” The protest was exhaled softly, at this point the correct decision would be to confess where your fiancé was. However, when he opened his mouth to supply you the information, you ripped your gaze away from him then declared your own answer to the question posed.

“No, I don’t. What I do know is that I have a phone call to make.”

As you stepped away from the table, the setter groaned out your name, in hope to stop you. When he realized you would likely refuse to return, he removed a few bills from his wallet then placed it on the table.  

“Thanks for inviting us. Sorry, my sweet little y/n gets a little emotional when she drinks. But it’s time we head out anyway.” Despite the worry lines etching into his delicate features, he presented them a departing smile. Juliana practically choked on her drink at the sight.  

“No need to apologize to us. We had a good time. I hope things work out between y/n and her fiancé. She really does love him.” Francisco lifted his glass, accompanying the motion with a nod of acknowledgement. To Oikawa’s surprise, there was not even a hint of malice underlying his comments. 

“Yeah she sure does.” Laughter spilled from the setter’s lips as he mumbled a repeated farewell. He sincerely hoped that Osamu loved you just as much.

**

The phone call you were referring to during your dramatic exit was meant for Iwaizumi. With the alcohol amplifying your emotions, you needed the trainer’s soft reassurances. You needed someone in your corner. Yet, your plan did not go unaltered. Battered by the icy breeze roaming the streets, you were stripped of every emotion except one – sorrow.

It should be no surprise that the person you elected to call was no longer Iwaizumi. The number you had dialed went straight to voicemail, though the pre-recorded greeting almost successfully tricked your intoxicated senses. When the beep signalled for you to begin, a deep breath was inhaled to prepare your lungs for the lengthy rant that would commence.

“Let me just say… it is seriously rude that you are ignoring me when you were the one desperate to talk that day. I even tried to keep my promise to Shin… I hate you. I hate you so damn much. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you... I hate that I can’t stop loving you.” A pause was administered only when the liquid glazing over your eyes completely distorted your vision. Aggressively, you discarded the tears, smudging the mascara coating your eyelashes in the process. 

“I hate that I miss your stupid face. It’s the stupidest face ever… I can’t believe you hurt me and then ghosted me! Get the fuck out of here, dude.” To help ease the strain now entering your temples, you pressed your fingers against your forehead in a soothing manner. 

“Don’t ask me why I called you dude. I don’t know… But you and I are going to fight. That’s how we’re going to settle this now. No more talking. You better be ready punk, when I see you, it’s on.”

You would have added some additional threats if Oikawa had not snatched the phone out of your grasp, immediately clicking the end button.

“You’ve had a lot of fun this evening, haven’t you? Come on. It’s time to go home.”  

Let’s do it again, shall we - sus-kawa

Masterlist - Previous - Next

A/N: lmao that voicemail is going to be a great landing present for osamu. 

taglist: @idiot-juice-enthusiast @vicassa @yourstarvic @bringmelily @newfriendjen  @hikarichannn @anime-simp @tsukkismamagucci @laughingismorefun @astronomyturtle @shegrewupwithoutafather @hyskoa1998 @deephumandragonperson @pretty-setter-bois @raenebalgaire @sugawarabby @justanotherfangirl2 @keijisworld @90s-belladonna @momoinot @sempiternal-amour @cherryblosom111 @yqshirov @haikyuufairy @volleybloop @bloody-bella @4fterh0urs @seikamuzu @namyari  @toaster-stick @coconut-dreamz @roseestuosity @prcttylittlcthing @uzumakioden​ @nerdynstoned @kenmasgameboy @unstableye @ouijaeater15​ @aquariarose​ @fandomtrashpandasposts​ @helloalex80​ @stfucanunot​ @envyusshades​ @cuddlesslut​ @seijohiseliterambles​  @meiikuki​ @cuddlejeongin​ @tchalameme​ @ditu-m9​ @elianetsantana​

Taglist continued in the comments from my personal  ❣️

[eve6262]

viego has a thought

There is no silence in the Black Mist.

The rush of the spirits, their cries echoing in your ears as you stay atop it all, violently swimming to the surface and breaching and staying there, unwilling to let the river of vague black haze consume you again. It’s why Viego is the only one that goes back into it; the others have lost their mind so far they’d be gone in a moment.

On his throne, it is deathly quiet. All he can hear is the rushing wind and a faint piano coming from nowhere. It sounds like sorrow and serenity, an eternity in a moment; it asks him to stop and think and knows his pain and anguish.

Viego does not sit idly on this throne very much. When he does, it quells his anger, and he does not need that. He needs to feel this heartbreak; he needs every moment to be filled with wrenching sorrow that cuts deep enough to shatter his spine and then some. If he doesn’t, Isolde will never be brought back to him.

He can’t do that to her. He can’t do that to himself. Who is this for again?

No matter. He is the king, and he does as he pleases. It doesn’t matter that, much like during his lifetime, sitting upon the throne scared him to his core; he knew he wasn’t ready to rule, wanted to live with a young seamstress alone in a manor a thousand miles away so they could be happy and unworried. The throne is a reminder of all his responsibilities; now it is a symbol of power, within those that have no meaning in life and no tasks to complete save for returning his wife to him.

It is still terrifying.

But he needs to, sometimes. Needs to calm down, sit upon it and think upon what strategies he should employ; more recently, how to deal with that Hallowed Mist. He’s talked it over with Vex, and she pointed out there’s nothing else possible. But there shouldn’t be any more Hallowed Mist; he corrupted it all.

Vex said she would go investigate, took a small bow, and wandered off. He hopes she comes back.

He hopes, violently, that she doesn’t think him incompetent.

When she rolls her eyes or points out something she thinks is obvious, it reminds him. Of advisors that thought they knew better- knew they were better, knew this small child was not fit to be king and thus had to lead him by hand to the answer they wanted. He remembers the chaos that erupted whenever the advisors were evenly split, and wanting to cower in fear at their raised voices and insistence that the opposition was going to get people needlessly killed, and how can you throw lives away so easily? while asking proselatizing about suicide missions and sacrifices.

The piano is ever so slightly louder now. Or maybe it’s much louder.

Despite her similarity to them, though, he feels no malice. Annoyance, maybe, but that’s understandable; he reasons, he would be too, if he knew anything. It can be frustrating to speak to children, so clearly it must be to speak to him, a child who was never given a chance to grow up before the crown was hoisted upon his head. But never malice.

Vex is a very stoic yordle. He feels the malice would be evident, because he has never known them to guard away their emotions like Isolde used to, a very, very long time ago. He has never known tthem to be facetious and duplicitous like Thresh, always waiting around the corner for the moment he’s weakened to strike. He has never known them to be too feeling, too disposed to classify ignorance as willful.

Perhaps that is why this goes so well. Thresh knows nothing, pretends to know everything; Vex knows all, pretends they still need data.

What is Vex doing right now, he wonders? Scouting about the sentinels, probably, trying to figure out what is causing that Blessed Mist. Or perhaps she got distracted, or maybe she has hobbies he doesn’t know about. It seems strange and natural at the same time, because she-

She reminds him of someone-

Not the advisors, maybe not someone he even knew, but there’s some distant memory-

Inaccessable to him at the moment.

Whatever it is, it drew him to Vex, and perhaps Vex to him. It’s likely equal parts the influence of the Mist and Thresh’s presence as his right-hand operative for so long, but he’s grown both weary and wary of turncoats and traitors; someone with motives bright as day is refreshing, and so very enjoyable.

It almost makes him happy.

The piano is so very loud, and yet he finds he can’t mind it at all. It encompasses his heart, plays whatever it feels. There’s still the harsh, sharp notes of his heartbreak, but somehow it finds an undercurrent of something lighter. It’s as if he’s found a kindred spirt among the wasteland that seems to be filled with nothing but souls that have no memory and people that have no values, or nothing but; no real people.

No one with strange reasoning, or motives that make sense in one lense but not another, or that even make mistakes like a human. Thresh misses with his chain because his target darts behind a rock, not because his arm gave way or his aim was off. Kalista leaves a target alive because the mist couldn’t sustain the hunt for long enough, and she needs to retreat lest she be killed. Hecarim doesn’t stumble on rocks or traps, but his soldiers are fleeting and leave him so soon that he has to retreat lest he be pelted with attacks ‘till second death.

Vex has stumbled up the stairs, forgotten her words, gotten confused and done strange things. She walked into the throne room (room? this place doesn’t even have walls anymore) eating chocolate she found in a ruined Ionian shop and reasoned that “it’s good, it’d be a shame to waste it.”

Later, when some smaller plan of hers went so perfectly, his first thought was I should get her some chocolate as a thank you.

Didn’t he do that, once?

He sighs, and gets off the throne. At once, the call of the mist and its rush fill his ears again, and the piano abruptly stops. His wife is waiting.

--

vex being friend and viego forgetting what that means??? it's more likely than you think

~Eve6262

[songofclarity]

The way I see some discussions and mentions of Nie Dad’s death, they give the impression that Wen RuoHan killed him in the same manner Meng Yao killed those Nie cultivators in the Sun Palace: by savagely cutting him open and letting him bleed out across the floor while Nie MingJue could only stand there and helplessly watch.

And like, symbolically, I can see the similarities of teenage Nie MingJue having to just stand there and watch his dad rage himself to death in his sickbed, but what happened between Wen RuoHan and Nie Dad, and the Wen Sect and Nie Sect, is much more complicated and far less direct.

There are reasons Nie MingJue’s resentment is quoted as being about his father’s death and not, directly, at Wen RuoHan.

Three key points:

First, neither the Nie nor the Wen could ever possibly agree about who started the conflict or how it ended. Was Nie Dad truly the arrogant type who would be so prideful as to mock Wen RuoHan for enjoying something or did Wen RuoHan try to teach a lesson to someone who was the innocent victim of some guest cultivator’s malice? The guest cultivator played them both by setting up a lose-lose situation.

Second, Wen RuoHan did not and does not know about the saber spirit. Nie Dad was stuck in a sickbed for six months which shows there was plenty of time to heal him. Do the Qinghe Nie just not take care of their people? The Wen Sect love getting into other people’s business and they have fantastic doctors. Did the Nie Sect reject help when it was offered due to the secrecy of Nie Dad’s underlying condition? This Sounds Like a You Problem if the Nie Sect just let Nie Dad languish and die. It’s no wonder Nie MingJue would resent his father’s death if there was nothing in-house they could do to help him and the Nie Sect refused to seek outside help--especially for reasons of Sect pride.

Third, Nie Dad’s death, namely how Nie Dad handled being injured and the six months leading up to his death, was a horrific reality check for the Nie Sect and the consequences of their saber cultivation. Wen RuoHan did not lay hands on Nie Dad or attack him in any manner, and yet one indirect hit shattered what tenuous hold Nie Dad had on his temperament. How fragile and vulnerable the Qinghe Nie must have felt! Wen RuoHan found their fatal flaw by a complete accident! It’s easier for the Nie Sect to blame the Wen Sect when there is nothing they can do about changing their cultivation methods without completely changing the Nie Sect as they know it. Change is hard. Blame is easy. Anger is easy. Resentment is easy.

Keep in mind this conflict was not started by Wen RuoHan. I cannot emphasize that point enough. This conflict began when a guest cultivator heard the innocuous question, “What do you think of this saber of mine?” (ch. 49, ERS) and started naming names.

Wen RuoHan smacked Nie Dad's saber because he was told Nie Dad was arrogant, boastful, and condescending. He was told Nie Dad was a dirty liar who would compliment Wen RuoHan’s saber to his face and talk shit about it behind his back (or in his heart, which is kind of worse, actually).

[The guest cultivator,] "[Sect Leader Nie is] awfully arrogant, always boasting about how his prized saber is absolutely unrivaled, and how even in a hundred years no sword has been able [to be] compared to his. No matter how good one's saber was, he definitely won't admit it, and even if he did admit it out loud, he won't admit it in his heart." [Ch. 49, ERS]

Is this a true account of Nie Dad’s character or is it a complete fabrication in order to throw him under the bus? We’re never told. But Wen RuoHan is told that Nie Dad will not be telling him the truth about how he feels, so Wen RuoHan can’t even talk to Nie Dad about it in order to clear the air if he so wanted. The guest cultivator has put Wen RuoHan and Nie Dad in a lose-lose situation. The conflict has immediately degraded to petty passive aggressive revenge.

Wen RuoHan decides to test the waters. Or, perhaps, he will teach Nie Dad a lesson in humility.

[Wen RuoHan,] "Are you sure about that? Well, I want to see." (Ch. 49, ERS)

Wen RuoHan requests Nie Dad’s presence. He holds the saber and compliments that it’s a very good saber. Then he does one of three things: he tests the saber’s strength for himself, teaches Nie Dad a lesson about having too much pride, or both.

Wen RuoHan smacking the saber, trying to break it, is a good way to humble a man whose pride comes from having the so-called greatest saber. Maybe when that saber breaks Nie Dad won't be such an arrogant asshole anymore. The guest cultivator noted that the saber was a point of pride for Nie Dad. Take it away, and maybe he’ll be more humble from now on.

The saber should probably have broken when slapped several times, but it didn't, because it was indeed a good saber.

Wen RuoHan hands the saber back and that is the end of Wen RuoHan’s involvement with Nie Dad and the Nie Sect.

(Keep in mind that we hear about Wen RuoHan leaving his house ONE time in canon, and that was to fight Nie MingJue at Yangquan during the Sunshot Campaign. Wen RuoHan and the Wen never go after the Qinghe Nie again until after the Sunshot Campaign begins.)

Nie Dad leaves the Sun Palace without noticing anything wrong with his saber. He finds the encounter with Wen RuoHan strange, but he leaves it at that.

The Sect Leader of the greatest saber cultivation sect didn't know his own saber had somehow been damaged! How embarrassing for him when he went on a night hunt days later and it broke and he got severely injured!

And that's it. Now Nie Dad's saber isn't the greatest saber anymore. Wen RuoHan taught Nie Dad a lesson, purposefully or not, and Nie Dad is still very much alive. Cultivators aren't down with their injuries for very long. It took Qingheng-jun a month to die from his critical injuries. By comparison, the core-less Jiang Cheng recovered from his broken ribs in just 3 days and the core-less Wei WuXian healed from an abdomen wound in a week. Six months for Nie Dad, a capable cultivator with likely a powerful golden core, is a long time! Unlike Qingheng-jun, he arguably was at least in a stable if disabled condition if he lasted six months.

Lesson learned and he'll be fine.

But Nie Dad isn't fine. He stews in his anger, his embarrassment, his resentment. He lets his fury engulf him. He can't heal from his injuries because all he wants to do, let’s say, is rage and yell and fume about that fucking Wen RuoHan who played a dirty trick!

(And if he did rage as such, perhaps there is some hearty arrogance in him that he thought himself and his saber untouchable, that he didn’t even give it a second look after Wen RuoHan was involved.)

It's not clearly stated if Nie Dad died from his injuries or by qi deviation, but considering the extent Nie MingJue and his sworn brothers go to in order to avoid a qi deviation AND Nie MingJue’s own feelings with how his father died, it's highly probable that Nie Dad died from qi deviation. And, like I said, if a cultivator doesn't die immediately from their wound, and if the wound doesn’t even put them in a critical condition, they heal just nicely.

But Nie Dad dies. It’s interesting to note the description of Nie MingJue’s trauma:

The thing in Nie MingJue's life that he loathed and regretted the most was the death of his father...

After Sect Leader Nie was brought back [from the night hunt where his saber broke], he couldn't make peace with such an event no matter what, and his injuries didn't heal either. Having fallen ill for half a year, he finally left the world, from either the anger or the illness. The reason why Nie MingJue, along with the entire Qinghe Nie Sect, detested the Qishan Wen Sect with such intensity was due to this. (ch. 49, ERS)

Although the Wens become the target of Nie hatred in the wake of Nie Dad’s death, Nie MingJue isn’t loathing them specifically. It’s not Wen RuoHan he hates, but rather the death of his father. The nuance here is important. He loathes those six months where Nie Dad could not get better and refused to get better when he picked his anger over healing. Those six months where he would have lashed out and shouted at his innocent children--just like Nie MingJue would, years later, shout and lash out at his brothers.

The death of Nie Dad showed the very worst side of the Qinghe Nie Sect and the effects of their saber cultivation. And all Nie MingJue, just a teenager at the time, could do was stand there and watch it all unfold. What a nightmare. It’s no wonder he accepted help from the Song of Clarity when he did, especially when Lan XiChen and Jin GuangYao were amping up the risk. it really just highlights the outrageous betrayal by Jin GuangYao, who knew all of this about Nie MingJue and the Nie Sect and still did what he did, using intimate knowledge to slowly murder Nie MingJue for his own gain.

Not even Wen RuoHan was that cruel.

Because all the while Wen RuoHan is not aware of the saber spirit or Nie Dad’s high risk of qi deviations. Nobody outside the Nie Sect knows about the saber spirits. Outside the Nie Sect, saber spirits aren't a real thing that someone could reasonably plan for. Hell, even Nie HuaiSang went over twenty years not knowing about the saber spirits and he lived with them!

So there is no possible way Wen RuoHan could have suspected pulling a punk ass, petty stunt to humble Nie Dad would exacerbate this supernatural disease that would anger Nie Dad to death.

This isn’t to say that Wen RuoHan is innocent. He very much chose to call Nie Dad over and made the decision on his own to smack the saber. But fate took over after that. The saber didn’t have to break and it didn’t have to break at such a dangerous moment.

Wen RuoHan’s actions did not seek Nie Dad’s death--because if he wanted Nie Dad dead, he would have killed him. (Who could have stopped him? No one.) Having policies that cause injury but not necessarily death are kind of Wen RuoHan’s thing though. (That’s an analysis for another time.) Suffice to say, no one can learn their lesson if they’re dead. Indoctrination camps and supervisory offices require living, breathing people to teach and be supervised. Wen RuoHan never sought to take over the world, only to correct the obvious flaws in the world around him. Correcting Nie Dad’s arrogance and pride was such an attempt.

And the Nie Sect secrecy shot the Nie in the foot in the end. They were angry with Wen RuoHan and the Wen Sect for causing Nie Dad's death by causing his injuries by damaging the saber, but of course Wen RuoHan and the Wens would never agree with this under the known circumstances. And with them being Wens, of course they aren’t going to take the blame and no one else is powerful enough to force them. This whole situation is especially Not Their Fault from their point of view.

Nie Dad was in bed for six months without critical injuries.

Maybe the Nie Sect should have had gotten better doctors.

(And I can perfectly imagine the Wen Sect, always throwing their weight around, actually offering to send their doctors, arguably the best doctors in the cultivation world, and the Nie Sect refusing because what ailed Nie Dad was not something the Nie Sect wanted to share. Nie MingJue allowing his sworn brothers to help him shows he learned from the experience of his father’s death, but I digress.)

We know all of this to be true because Wen RuoHan, years later at the start of the Sunshot Campaign, speaks of the Nie Sect as a place where people die in part because of their personality type and in part because the Nie Sect itself fails to care for them:

...the Qinghe Nie Sect's sect leader [Nie MingJue] was so stiff that he'd easily snap in half--soon afterward, no need for others to move and he'd die in his own people's hands sooner or later... (ch. 61, ERS)

And considering what we know about the saber spirits, this is a pretty good deduction when Wen RuoHan is missing the saber spirit cornerstone. The Nie Sect has a cultivation tradition that kills them. Obviously it’s in the hands of their own people that they die, having picked up this cultivation style. Wen RuoHan also accurately determines that personality, such as Nie MingJue being inflexible, contributes to that death. It is the build-up of anger and resentment that eventually pushes the Nie cultivator to snap and fall into a qi deviation.

But of course Wen RuoHan also lacks the knowledge that saber spirits cause those personalities to begin with. That Nie Dad acting rigid or arrogant or harsh might not be because he’s an actual asshole, but rather because the saber spirit is effecting his temperament. With a teenage son, Nie Dad was likely pushing 40 if not already much older. We see what a juggernaut Nie MingJue already is in his early 20s. Nie Dad had more than twice the time to wreck his temperament than Nie MingJue ever did, and it still took him six months to die while in a constant state of turmoil while bed bound.

(Which really shows how deadly the Collection of Turmoil was if it could kill Nie MingJue in less than half that time. I know this post is about Wen RuoHan and the Nie, but it truly cannot be understated how horrifically cruel Jin GuangYao’s actions were when he carefully crafted Nie MingJue’s murder, especially how he would have heard from both sides how this all went down.)

In the end, Wen RuoHan obviously gained a vague idea about what happened and what the Qinghe Nie are like as a Sect, but he is, of course, missing the vital point--just as he misses the vital point when he doesn't actually try to kill Nie Dad.

[svnflowervol666]

I was wondering if you could write something where Harry’s wife tells him she doesn’t want him in the delivery room when she gives birth. She figures having maybe Gemma or Anne with her. She comes from a family of women, so she just doesn’t think she needs him. Harry’s left torn between agreeing with her because it’s her choice and absolutely broken up over it, because he wants to witness his first child come into the world. In the end she chooses to have him by her side. 🌻💛🌻

Word Count: 2.5k

Author’s Note: THANK YOU for this dad!Harry request!! It is quite apparent that I can ramble about dad!Harry for ages, so if anyone has anything dad!Harry they’d like to discuss, my inbox is open and I will give it my all! Enjoy! Take care and tpwk.

Harry found her by the pool, her already glowing body veiled by a thin layer of sweat. Her sun-kissed legs were crossed one another, body completely bare sans the skimpy swimsuit that she only wore at home due to her current situation. She was nearly 7 months pregnant with hers and Harry’s first child, having gotten to the point where even the thought of leaving the house exhausted her. Knowing this, it made sense to Harry as to why he found her in such an unusual place when he came home from his workout at the gym. She’d always claimed that the hated the oversized pool that took up room for a potential garden in the backyard of their home, so she was rarely seen dipping her toes in the cool, blue water. Harry supposed her cabin fever had gotten the best of her and she’d had to find new ways to entertain herself whilst they both waited anxiously for their baby to arrive.

He could see her through the large, glass windows that faced the backyard, her cell phone perched in one hand while she rubbed absent-minded circles around her swollen bump with the other. Sounds of her sweet, cherubic laugh trailed in through the cracks of the french doors, immediately warming Harry’s chest and causing him to smile in a way that showed off his cavernous dimples. This pregnancy had brought a lot of emotional turmoil in terms of the way her hormones would render her depressed and misanthropic for weeks at a time in some cases, then bouncy and cheery the next as if nothing had been wrong. Harry supposed today had been one of those good days.

It came as second nature to him to make a double batch of the smoothie he routinely drank after he exercised. He’d found out early on in her pregnancy that she’d always try to sneak sips of the sweet, fruity blend due to her new cravings, so he’d eventually just started making two drinks each time to satisfy them both. As he juggled the two glasses in his large, ringed hands, he slid open the door with the full intention of joining her in her sunbathing escapades to cool down after his intensive workout. Maybe he’d even convince her to stick her feet over the edge while he swam a few laps around her. That was until he’d caught the tail-end of the sentence that she’d muttered to whoever was on the other end of her phone line.

“…I was just thinking maybe you or Anne in the room during the delivery, and then Harry can come in and see the baby right after.”

Harry felt his heart sink into his arse at what he’d overheard, almost in disbelief at what he’d just heard her say. Surely, he’d missed a key part of this conversation and the tidbit he’d just stumbled upon was not her saying that she didn’t want Harry by her side when she gave birth to their first child. They’d never discussed it, but he’d always been under the assumption that he’d be right there next to her, holding her hand as their son or daughter made their appearance into the world. However, Harry couldn’t shake the feeling like that was exactly what she had just said.

“Yeah, totally. And then- Oh! Hi, Harry!” She stopped mid-sentence and perked up upon realizing her husband was home.

Harry smiles cheesily back at her, though there was a hint of disappointment in his expression. She was too entranced in her conversation to notice.

“Brought ye’ a smoothie,” Harry raised the glass towards his face to show off the perspiring glass of blended fruit and protein powder.

She wiggles her toes in excitement, the shiny lilac polish gleaming in the sunlight. Harry had painted them for her last week, her having been too far along in her pregnancy to reach her own toes. He always did little things like this for her so she could feel beautiful no matter how atrocious she was convinced she looked in her state. If it were up to Harry, he’d keep her like this for as long as possible; he had fallen in love with her ten times over since she’d been pregnant. 

“Thank you, lovie. Gemma’s on the line. She says hi. And also that she’s still your mum’s favorite,” she said to Harry as she pulled the phone slightly away from her ear.

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle at his older sister’s immature banter as he sat the smoothie down next to his wife and leaned down to press a kiss to her damp hair.

He spoke clearly into the speaker so that Gemma was certain to hear him, “Just wait until the baby gets here. Then mum won’t give a shit about either of us.”

Harry didn’t hear Gemma’s snarky response, but he did hear her laugh loudly on the other end mixed with his wife’s own sweet giggles. He gave her bump a few pats with his hand that was cold from holding the glass and silently gestured to her that he was headed back inside. What he had overheard on the phone had killed his desire to lounge in the pool with his wife. He needed to be alone, whether it was to come up with a way to convince her otherwise or simply sulk about in his misery. His wife blew him a kiss which he subsequently pretended to catch and stuff in his hoddie pocket before ducking back into the house.

Whilst Harry was washing off in the shower, his mind was racing. Did she really not want him in the delivery room with her? It was his child, for christ’s sake! Of course he wanted to be there, more than anything, to be there when their baby took their first breaths, when they came out covered in goo and kicking and screaming. All Harry had ever wanted was a family to call his own, and now that it was within arm’s reach, he wanted to experience it all. 

Of course, she was going to be the one quite literally pushing a life force out of her body, therefore Harry had no say in the matter. At the end of the day, even if his future efforts to convince her otherwise were unsuccessful, it was her choice and Harry would have to respect that. It just struck him right through his core to think that his own wife didn’t want him there beside her as she gave birth. 

Amidst his racing thoughts, he’d lost track of time. The water had since run lukewarm, but he didn’t realize this until he heard the creak of the steamy shower door open and saw his pregnant wife step inside, still dressed in the skimpy swimsuit that she wore when she didn’t want any tan lines.

“Stealing all of the hot water now, aren’t you?” she teased as she stripped herself of the sopping wet material, then tossed it halfhazardly into the corner of the large, stand-in shower.

Harry mumbled a quiet, “Sorry,” before stepping out of the way of the faucet to let her rinse off.

“‘S alright. I’m still pretty warm from being outside,” she reassured him as she worked shampoo through her dripping locks, “Everything alright?” 

“Ye’, why wouldn’t it be?” Harry answered his wife’s question, though he knew that wasn’t the truth and he couldn’t hold eye contact with her so he opted to watch as the soap suds ran from her scalp and down around her belly.

“Just seem kinda off is all,” she dismissed her quandaries and reached for the conditioner.

“‘M fine,” Harry lied again, “Wha’ were ye’ talkin’ to Gem about?”

“Oh, just baby stuff. She wanted to know if we’d decided on a theme for the nursery yet so she could start buying us gifts and then we just ended up talking for a while.”

Harry nodded silently as he worked a foaming cleanser into his skin, waiting until she was done rinsing her hair to take his turn back under the running water. He could say something, he really could. He knew that he should, because communication was key and he needed to be prepared for the heartbreak he’d experience when she told him that she didn’t want him in the delivery room with her. But he was nervous, scared almost. It was as if he actually didn’t want to know how she felt and would rather just forget the whole thing happened. However, now was not the time to be cowardly. This was his child and if he wasn’t willing to talk openly with his wife about how they’d approach the situation, maybe he wasn’t really ready to be a father after all.

“Did I overhear you tellin’ Gemma you don’t want me in the delivery room with ye’?”

She stopped running the silky soap through the ends of her hair to look at Harry directly.

“What do you mean?”

“I heard you say somethin’ about mum bein’ in the delivery room with ye’ and then me comin’ in right after. Do ye’ not want me in there?”

Harry’s voice sounded trembled as if he didn’t want to hear her answer his question. She finally picked up on his trepidation, and the look on her face was one of confusion.

“Harry I…I didn’t say that,” she was merely at a loss for words.

“Ye’ kinda did. Heard ye’ say it,” Harry snided. 

“I didn’t say I didn’t want you in the room, Harry. My family’s always had only the girls in the delivery room. I just figured I’d do the same. Plus, I didn’t know you even wanted to be there.”

“Of course I want to be there,” Harry stressed, “‘s my baby for cryin’ out loud.”

Right then, she felt an intense flutter in her abdomen that caused her to cup her bump with her arm. This baby sure did love the sound of their father’s voice. Nothing was said between them, only awkward, unbearable silence. The water suddenly felt ice cold, raising chillbumps all up and down her arms and legs. Was Harry mad at her? She didn’t know. There was no malice with her intentions to give birth to their child without Harry in the delivery room, she genuinely hadn’t thought twice about it; it’s how she had been raised to believe how a woman should give birth, with strong women by their side. He was looking at her with glassy eyes like she had utterly broken him and caused irrepairable damage and it made her heart feel heavier than the weight of her baby bump that killed her lower back.

“I didn’t know, Harry,” she whispered, barely audible over the hissing of the faucet.

“Kinda common sense, now, innit? ‘S fine. ‘S your body.”

Harry quickly rid himself of any soap residue and left his wife alone in the ice cold shower before she could say another word. He left her the fluffier, more comfortable towel that he’d chosen for himself, because that’s just who he is.

//

He avoided her for the rest of the evening. He shut himself in his office for the better part of nearly three hours, hoping to turn his feelings into art and potentionally crank out a verse or two. The thoughts buzzing in his head were far too loud to concentrate on any chord or key, so he turned to answering emails, still not coming out of the room to resolve the argument he’d had with his wife in the shower. He wasn’t even sure what to say, or if there was anything to say at all.

She’d done the same, cooping herself up in their bedroom and taking a nap instead of finding Harry and demanding that they squash this immediately. She was so startled over the entire thing, having been bombarded with more information than she could handle. It hurt her to know that she’d hurt Harry, but at the same time she believed she hadn’t done anything wrong. This was clearly miscommunication on the most basic level, though it didn’t make her feel any better having realized that. Uneasiness settled deep into her bones as she drifted off into a light, relaxing slumber.

//

Harry tossed the garlic around in the pan with a wooden spoon blindly, only cooking to fill his stomach and not to enjoy it. It was her favorite meal, so he’d figured she’d enjoy the leftovers, at least. His mind kept drifting off to two months down the road, when his baby would be arriving in the sterile, chilly delivery room whilst he, on the other hand, wouldn’t be there to see it.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt two arms wrap around his middle and a protruding bump poke him in the small of his back.

“‘M sorry,” her voice sounded muffled from where she was talking into his shirt.

Harry reduced the heat on the stove and turned around in her grasp to face her. He took her head in both of his hands, forcing her to look at him when she spoke. 

“‘S okay. It’s your choice. I didn’t mean t’ upset ye’.”

“No, H. It’s not okay,” she couldn’t stop the hormonal tears from pooling in her eyes and running down her cheeks that were still warm from the nap she’d taken, “I should have asked you what you wanted. It’s your baby too. I just wasn’t thinking. I don’t you to be mad at me.”

Harry wiped her tears away with the pads of his thumbs, hating to see her cry like this.

“I’m not mad at ye’, love. Just caught me off guard. I’m fine now. I’ll wait outside the delivery room if that’s what ye’ want.”

He really hoped that wasn’t what she wanted, but he knew it was the right thing to do. After a long pause of her collecting her breath and nuzzling into Harry’s soothing touch, she found her words once more.

“It’s not what I want. I want you there. Beside me. Holding my hand when our baby gets here.”

This time it was Harry that started to cry, though he didn’t let her see the salty tears fall becaues he burried his head into the crook of her neck and held her in the dimly lit kitchen they stood in. All she could hear were his sniffles and his rapidly beating heart through is chest.

“I love you,” Harry mumbled into her neck, tickling her sensitive skin.

“I love you, too. So fucking much, Harry,” she gave his abdomen a tight embrace before pulling back. 

“But promise me you’ll still want me after you see the baby come out of me. I’ve seen it before and it is not pretty.”

Harry choked on his remaining tears as a laugh roared through his chest. He wiped the wetness from his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“’M only gonna want ye’ more after that. Promise,” Harry then raised his left pinky towards her in sincerity, the wedding band on his ring glimmering in the stovetop light.

[presence-of-darkness]

my very long thoughts c!techno’s current doings

(everything that follows is about the characters not the people, and despite my many criticism of their choices I find them incredible interesting and well written. I am just ready to throw down in a debate with any and all of them especially techno)

so the festival was a shit show for everyone involved except for dream (and punz). now i disagree with many (most) of the characters and their actions but I'm gonna be focusing on techno because that is what my brain is rearing to discuss. now i love c!techno i think he’s a fascinating and nuanced character but I have some disagreements with him which I will go into great detail on. let's start with the Tommy betrayal thing.

now I love sbi as much as the next person (I love it large amoun) but I completely agree with Tommys choice to leave techno. techno and Tommy were fundamentally on different sides from the beginnin, this fallout was completely inevitable and the only way it wouldn't have happened is if one of them shifted in their core beliefs. For techno this being his anarchy(autocorrect please let me say anarchy) and for tommy his love of lmandburg and his bestest friend tubbo. Tommy had seemingly temporarily put these to the side for the sake if the disks but as we saw today and in the past Tommy values tubbo and lmanburg over the disks and he doesn't want to become the person who doesn't. 

now the conflict arises in the fact that while both of them have been pretty upfront about these being their main beliefs they have both repeatedly ignored or though they could change the others mind when this was brought up. Tommy thought techno would help him get the disks and defend him from dream without him needing to fully turn against lmanburg; and techno thought he could change Tommy's mind and get him to want to destroy lmanburg and let go of tubbo. (techno also definitely was trying to manipulate Tommy through framing and bot being honest about destroying lmanburg being the main goal even if it wasn't done out of malice and he thought it would be best for Tommy)

And while being with techno did really help Tommy regain his confidence after being manipulated by dream it working with techno still brought out really bad parts of him, and he was becoming a person he didn’t want to be. Bit of a tangent but Tommy clung to techno because he was the first person after exile to stay with him for extended periods of time and bot be actively and maliciously working to hurt him. He swung between latching on and lashing out and mirroring techno because he wanted to be friends and he was becoming the person he feared he would be for so long. He was on the route of becoming like Wilbur and that is why he needed to not work with techno anymore. Yes he betrayed techno but techno was literally planning on murdering the people he cared about so like... can’t say I blame the guy (tho he should have given the axe back that was kinda a dick move). 

And yes this fucking sucks from technos perspective, he feels and has been betrayed by people the trusted and legitimately wanted to work with to achieve his ideals repeatedly. But he is definitely not innocent in this, he has also done some betrayal (peer pressure or not he murdered an ally at the command of an enemy regardless of his justifications) and I feel like a lot of the techno pogtopia conflict could have been lessened if techno did the active listening he wanted out of the others when he said he planned to destroy lmanburg.  There was clearly conflict brewing in pogtopia about whether or not it should be blown up and Tommy Tubbo Nikki etc talked about how they wanted to reclaim lmanburg. I think that pretty clearly insinuates returning it to its prior  state, ergo government. Now onto what techno currently plans to do: destroy lmanburg with dream. I think this is a bit of a shit plan. While i do not doubt be a second that they won’t succeed in destroying and blowing shit up I don’t feel that’s it’s actually really conducive to achieving technos ideals. The reason being that lmanburg is a fucking sham of a government

This thing barely functions and they have no real power to back anything they do up. Lmanburg arguably was a more powerful and independent country during schlatts presidency but that was a shitshow for an array of other reasons. Lmanburg has no power. They rely on the illusion of power and dream is the one who has allowed them to live in this illusion. Tubbo and the cabinet are just as much figureheads as Eret is. The only difference is that Eret knows that he a figurehead.

See the problem is that i don’t think blowing up lmanburg will actually get techno any closer to his goal of anarchy. because the closest thing the smp has to a government that actually has power is dream. The one techno is working with. And lmanburg has been blown to smithereens before, almost none of the land is there and even if that chunk is blown to kingdom come the people who made of that country are probably just going to remake it whether for better or for worse. Now don’t get me wrong lmanburg has done some real fucked up shit throughout its history and it’s never really been successful in standing for the ideals it claims. One of the more recent examples of this being the butcher army on which I completely side with techno, while lmanburg has every right to be pissed at techno this was a completely unlawful and unjust attempt of an execution. However as previously stated dream allows them to have the power to do this. Not to their knowledge but he knew this was in the world before it happened. He could have intervened in anyway but he chose to do it in a way that would put techno is as much debt to him as possible. Leading him to the totems of undying and then only stepping in to guide Carl and techno into the final control room. In this way he allowed technos life to be in danger (tho technoblade never dies) and maximized just how much dream saved his ass. And he did this to maximize the amount of power he had over techno through the debt. Because that’s what it’s all about for dream: power. Power through gaining the disks, power through debts and even power from flexing his power by randomly appointing and demoting people. Techno is too focused on the official governments that he’s ignoring the actual person in power of it all. And I do not predict that this will be fruitful in the long run. Dream is going to betray Techno and it might involve the prison or him claiming that favor for something techno really fucking doesn’t want to do. Or dream might use that favor to indefinitely dangle the power he has through it over technos head. And while techno has taken some precautions about this (ie not showing at the wither skulls he has) I still don’t think he’s in as good as a position to achieve his goals as he thinks he is. 

Thank you for coming to my long and rambling Ted talk I am ready for a (friendly) fight in the Socratic ring.

[the-blue-fairie]

On pitting characters against each other and bad media criticism in the Frozen fandom:

So, I made a post a few days ago about undue negativity towards Elsa in the fandom where I criticized a comment someone made on one of my posts The comment said that Anna deserved to know that she was loved and the deleted scene where Elsa shows Anna the memory of her parents should have been left in the finished film (something I agree with), but also said that, “Outside of Kristoff, Anna can count on everyone else using her, leaving her, and manipulating her” (something I do not agree with and I feel throws not only Elsa but Olaf, Mattias, and the Northuldra under the bus.)

But today this same commenter reblogged one of my analysis posts and praised it, so I thought, “Hey, maybe I was too harsh on this person. We seem to agree on certain things.” So I looked over at their blog to see if I misjudged them and...

Oh dear, where to begin? First of all, I don’t believe Lee and Buck “hate” Anna. I think they love Anna very much, just like they love Elsa very much. People in this fandom, when talking about flaws in the writing of F2, always want to claim that the writers/directors/actors are conspiring against their favorite character. You see it with certain people claiming that the filmmakers “hate” Elsa and you see it with certain people (like this individual here) claiming that the writers “hate” Anna.

Writing doesn’t work like that. Making a film is a long and difficult process and sometimes the filmmakers make mistakes or make bad choices or end up creating a scene with negative ramifications all while having the best intentions. It’s not malice, it’s just an unfortunate circumstance or, at worst, poor writing. And I’m not saying we can’t talk about flaws in F2 or scenes that are badly written and might undermine certain characters’ arcs. I do that all the time myself. But saying that those flaws are because the filmmakers hate one of their characters is... That’s not a valid way to go about film criticism.

I also don’t think that Lee and Buck “destroyed [Anna] to promote Elsa.” Now, I do feel that there are flaws in the writing of F2 and that has negative consequences sometimes for both of the sisters’ arcs. And I do have conflicting feelings about the fact that so much of Anna’s arc is about suffering, about watching her world crumble about her while she tries to keep it intact; whereas Elsa’s arc is so much bout validation. As someone who connects deeply with Anna’s pain in F2, Anna’s arc hurts to watch. And sometimes, on an instinctive level, I feel that Anna’s arc is cruel to her and that I can’t watch this character that I see myself in go through pain after pain after pain even when she is going to pick herself back up - and I do feel that the film should have given her more validation at points.

But even with my misgivings about Anna’s arc, I don’t think the filmmakers “destroyed her.” In fact, I think Anna’s arc is far more cohesive than Elsa’s in F2. (When I say this, everyone, I am NOT saying that “the filmmakers hate Elsa and that’s why Anna’s arc is stronger” and I’m NOT saying “something something conspiracy about KBell” - but I do feel the writers weren’t quite sure what to do with Elsa because she means so much to so many people and she’s kind of “too much for Disney: too powerful, too traumatized, too independent, too gay,” as a writer put it recently, and the writers are trapped having to write Elsa within the confines of the stifling Disney system - just as they are trapped in the same way when writing Anna.)  But anyway, I feel this person is completely wrong when they say Lee and Buck “destroyed” Anna. Anna is still Anna. She’s still brave, fearless, resourceful, struggling with her trauma day by day and striving forward to do the Next Right Thing. In my personal opinion, The Next Right Thing is the true spiritual successor of Let it Go and one of my favorite songs in the franchise - even if it hurts me so much to watch the scene that I hardly do... because it feels too real. But the fact it feels too real only goes to show the love that was put into it. The filmmakers didn’t destroy Anna.

Also... “Elsa should have been killed off and not brought back”? WHAT? That’s just... deliberately incendiary, trying to push people’s buttons. And I know Elsa is just a fictional character so you might say I should calm down but... that’s the thing. Elsa is a fictional character, so this person should calm down about her. How can you expend such hate for a character who has a good heart, who tries over and over to do the right thing and who, like Anna, has suffered trauma? Elsa isn’t a deliberately cruel character. Elsa is an incredibly loving and empathetic character. And while, yes, I’d argue that there are aspects of Elsa’s arc in F2 that are poorly written, that isn’t Elsa’s fault because Elsa isn’t real. As hb-pickle put it recently, if you have issues with the way Elsa is written, focus your energy on saying something like, “These and these aspects of the writing fell short and although it seems like the filmmakers wanted to convey [x], they actually ended up conveying [y] and [z] because of these and these flaws.”

As I’ve mentioned previously, it’s interesting to me how much this person’s attitude parallels someone like Isa’s attitude in key ways, in spite of the fact that one person ships KA and the other EA. It’s actually really interesting how much extreme KA shippers and extreme EA shippers have in common sometimes even when neither side will admit it because they hate each other’s ships and see themselves as utterly opposed. 

 And sometimes, it’s not even commonality in negative behaviors but in critiques that actually show a positive common ground between these two groups, if anyone paused to consider that common ground. I’m not saying we should be trying to find common ground with someone like Isa who behaves so corrosively though - just that there’s sometimes commonality in critiques from opposite ends of the fandom that I find surprising. Like, the post that this person praised in the tag was a post where I talked about Elsa’s conclusion in F2 feeling unearned because the film focuses more on Elsa’s connection to Ahtohallan than to human beings. I was saying that, although we have no evidence that Elsa literally lives on the glacier (something BEH proponents sometimes suggest), we DO have evidence that the film cares more about Elsa’s connection to the glacier than to people.

So my argument, this person’s agreement with my argument, and the BEH argument all align in strong ways, actually. We’re all trying to make an argument about flaws or frustrating issues with the way Elsa was written. We all agree about core aspects of what we are discussing. 

But where I try to say, “This is a flaw in the text that I feel distances Elsa from her humanity and, as an Elsa fan, I have mixed feelings about that,” this person feels, “This is a flaw in the text that means Elsa is bad and emotionally distant and the filmmakers don’t criticize this emotional distance because the filmmakers are bad and don’t care as much about Anna’s pain as they do Elsa’s validation and the filmmakers... love Elsa and hate Anna.” And then someone like Isa feels, “This is a flaw in the text that distances Elsa from her humanity and that proves the filmmakers hate Elsa.” And also, knowing Isa, she’d probably blame it all on the malice of Kristen Bell in a similar way as this person blames things on the malice of Lee and Buck.

But again, it’s not malice. At worst, it’s bad writing emerging from good intentions.

For years now, people in the Frozen fandom have had a bad habit of tearing certain characters down to prop their favorite characters up. But it doesn’t have to be that way. You don’t have to tear Elsa down to prop up Anna up. You don’t have to pit the sisters against each other. You don’t have to tear Anna down to prop Elsa up. You don’t have to tear Kristoff down to prop Elsa up. You don’t have to tear Elsa down to prop Kristoff up. You don’t have to tear Olaf down to prop Kristoff up. And you don’t have to tear the Northuldra down to prop up your “vision” of Elsa.

You don’t need to tear characters down to celebrate those you love. 

And, if you read this and think I’m trying to order you to like certain characters or trying to stop valid criticism of characters or of the franchise, recognize that you’re approaching this post in bad faith. Because I value valid criticism and I engage in it myself... but extremist takes like these undermine valid criticism. They don’t help it.

(Also, I’m not equating people with Isa. Isa’s racist rhetoric sets her apart and makes her worse than other extreme people within the fandom, but that doesn’t mean other extreme people don’t have similarities to her behavior in other ways. And people should pause to check the extremes of their own biases.) 

[oss-crime]

Afterword and Work Explanations

Original Sin Story: Crime afterword

This work is a novelization of the Act 1 portion of the “Original Sin Story” doujin CDs distributed by the “the heavenly yard” circle, and it’s also a prequel to the “Daughter of Evil” and “Deadly Sins of Evil” series published by PHP institute.

The “Deadly Sins of Evil” series, similar to this work, all had their main motifs taken from songs published previously by their writer (mothy_AkunoP), and it’s also a series that was developed over close to a decade.

In these works a span of almost a thousand years passes over the course of the series, and the following order is how it goes chronologically.

.

“Original Sin Story”-->”The Lunacy of Duke Venomania”-->”Evil Food Eater Conchita”-->”Daughter of Evil (four books total)”-->Gift From the Princess Who Brought Sleep”-->”Fifth, Pierrot”-->”Tailor of Enbizaka”-->”Judgment of Corruption”-->”The Muzzle of Nemesis”-->”Master of the heavenly yard”

.

In other words, the “Original Sin Story” is the “Story of the Beginning” that occurs in these series.

And depicted in it are the backstories for the figures that debut in the other works like “Adam”, “Eve”, and “Seth”, as well as the details of the creation of the key items, the “Vessels of Deadly Sin”.

…Though, since the part depicted in this work is just the first act of the “Original Sin Story” albums, any further core content will be carried over into the next book.

My initial plan was to collect all of it into one volume, but during the progression of the plot I went “Ah, this is totally impossible” and gave up on that.

In the end I decided to split it into two volumes, but even so there were a few developments I was unable to depict in this book that would also be difficult to have in the next one.

(There was the issue of page number, but I also just wanted to avoid making the story tedious with too many digressions)

For that reason I wanted to talk roughly here about the conceptual elements I could only allude to briefly or that were cut altogether.

Magic Kingdom Levianta (the story’s setting)

As shown in the main work, it’s a country whose territory is the entire northern region of Evillious, and it was founded by excavators of the legacy of the Second Period (the era wherein lived those called “Gods” like Levia and Behemo).

The true identity of these “excavators” was a clan of sorcerers, and it all started when they set their eyes on these legacy pieces as tools to more easily make use of their magical arts.

The more powerful a magical spell, the more time and preparation it would take to set it in motion. The one to realize that by using these artifacts as an intermediary they could greatly simplify the process was the sorceress who would later become the first queen of Magic Kingdom Levianta, Alice Merry-Go-Round.

Alice hired on some help and began to mine the area around the LeviaBehemo temple where many of these artifacts slept, however it was there that the original inhabitants began to put up resistance.

These natives believed that the twin-headed dragon LeviaBehemo was a divine being, and they viewed Alice and the others who would desecrate their temple as sinners.

In order to protect the boundaries of her territory, Alice built an enormous wall around the temple.  

That later came to be called the “First Wall”.

As time passed the “Second Wall” and “Third Wall” were erected, and eventually a castle took shape.

Alice named this castle Alicegrad, and declared the foundation of the country she would rule as queen, Levianta.

Even still, the pushback from the natives continued.

For the prosperity of her country, Alice decided to adopt several governmental policies to make peace with the natives.

The first was to worship LeviaBehemo as gods.

And that she would take twelve members to serve as her immediate subordinates, half of whom would be sorcerers that Alice had trained herself, and the other half being representatives chosen by the native inhabitants.

Through this reconciliation between the natives and the sorcerers, and the miraculous blessings brought about by the legacy pieces, Levianta began to walk the road of glory.

After the first queen’s death her sorceress daughter inherited her position, and at the same time also took on her mother’s name of “Alice”. That was a last ditch effort to at least somewhat maintain her majesty, the daughter being lacking in charisma compared to her mother.

But from that point on, all of the queens historically inherited the name of “Alice Merry-Go-Round”.

The current queen, “Alice Merry-Go-Round”, that shows up in the main story is the seventh queen.

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 The Senate

The central organization of Magic Kingdom Levianta made up of the first queen’s twelve subordinates, as well as their descendants.

Each of them are respectively responsible for running one of the twelve small towns that surround the castle.

That the senate was tightly unified through history…would be something of a lie; there exists a particularly large gap in the relationship between the six families descended from sorcerers (such as Loop Octopus, or Vaju) and the six descended from natives (like Asayev and Li).

 Furthermore, in the process of Gammon becoming head of the senate the Vaju family’s assets were taken over by the Loop Octopus family, resulting in there being two members of the Loop Octopus family in the senate (Gammon and his younger brother, who was the family’s main heir).

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The Forest of Held

There might be a bit of a discrepancy in the depiction of the Forest of Held (The Millennium Tree Forest) in the main work for those of you who have already read the “Daughter of Evil” and “Deadly Sins of Evil” series.

In the “Daughter of Evil” works, this forest isn’t in the country of Levianta, existing on the Elphegort~Lucifenian border far further south than the forbidden land of Nemu (the ruins of Nemu village).

In the time of the “Original Sin Story” the area around Nemu village was Leviantan territory, and furthermore the forest sat in great abundance just south of the village.

I plan to make clear the reason for the forest being curtailed by close to half its size in the next work.

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Lighwatch Temple

A facility meant to cultivate “queen candidates” run by the Asayev family, and also an extremely suspicious place containing cells and execution devices. Almost like a certain tower

Those able to be selected as shrine maidens are girls who have the power of an “Inheritor of Held”. Through this power they are able to erase “malice” from people’s hearts, and also hear the “voice of god”.

Its head priest, Yegor Asayev, has the power of an “Inheritor of Behemo”, and with his particular insight he is able to determine if another person has an “Inheritor” power. He used this ability to gather his shrine maidens.

Only, Yegor keeps it hidden from the public that the shrine maidens are “Inheritors”.

Zellana and Elluka, who appeared in this work, are blood sisters of disparate ages. Their parents are long dead.

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Research regarding “ghoul children”

Originally, Horus (Seth) had inherited the research of his “friend” who had been “the authority on the study of artificial life”.

These research theories also were utilized in the birth of the “Twins of God” in Project “Ma”.

The “ghoul children” he created had the trait of being able to grow up very rapidly, but this had the side effect of making them age rapidly as well.      

Seth worked hard to suppress this side effect, but he seems to have been unable to completely avert it.

And to make these “ghoul children” active, he needed to implant in them a reserve false personality.

The false personality had several varieties to it, such as “clean”, “preset”, or “copy”; as the name suggests, “clean” was a blank slate with no memories, “preset” had false memories that were pre-made, and “copy” was implanted with Seth’s own memories.

Furthermore, having advanced in his research on “Inheritors”, Seth was able to utilize his results on a certain “ghoul child”.

Through this, that artificial human gained the power of an “Inheritor of Gilles”, but as a side effect it results in several problems surfacing with their false personality.

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Catherine

--Once upon a time.

Catherine, a marine biologist, boarded a space ship called the “Climb I” with her husband Gilles.

She had a son with her husband, but he had been sickly, and thus was unable to become a member of the crew.

Catherine continued to lament this fact, and also grew jealous of a female psychologist named Rahab, another passenger on the ship.

That was because Rahab had two children, and both of them had been able to board the “Climb I”.

When she realized that this Rahab and Gilles were having an affair, Catherine’s jealousy turned to “anger”.

Enlisting the help of her friend, Lich, Catherine tried to secretly murder Rahab inside the spaceship.

But…she had the tables turned on her, and was brought to the brink of death.

As her consciousness faded—Catherine saw looking down on her was the man she had thought was her friend, smiling.

By the time she had realized that it was “malice” taking on Lich’s form, it was already too late.

--If I write any more than this it’ll end up spoiling some of the next book, so I’ll leave it here.

Well then…Let’s meet again in the sequel, “Original Sin Story: Punishment”!

AkunoP (mothy)

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