#but i only recently realized the logistics of it

[grendil5]

History is completely fabricated. None of those things happened and none of their opposite stories happened either. It's all made up. Opposite stories meaning history was designed with stories that mirror eachother. The opposite stories for your examples are:

-The african slave trade didn't happen.

-The link between the words slave and slav doesn't exist. (not really an opposite but still) (I admit I don't know this one for sure but it would be extremely funny and cruel to do this to Christians and thus right up their alley)

-The european opium sales to china (to addict and enslave them) didn't happen.

-The uh hmm well i'm sure you can figure out the polar opposite of this one. It didn't happen.

-The other three don't really have an opposite, to my knowledge, perhaps the story of the holy roman empire being secretly run and exclusively kinged by Dutch/Germans? More insane impossible fantasy bullshit. But rest assured not one truth has been told to us or today's Russians about Soviet Russia.

But there are many, many more examples. You probably have some too. You'll notice that in all of history, there's a team good-guy and team-bad guy example for everything. Some "thousands of years" (lol) apart. All of it the west vs the world. Or white people vs the world. Christians vs the world. That's because it's all made up, it's designed to completely ensnare your brain. The full spectrum of good and bad behavior is taken care of. Every race and religion is written to be a victim in one story and a perpetrator in another.

The reason history is designed that way is neutralize your moral compass. To drive you away from Christ, and to make you easy to control. To make you disbelieve in a "true good", which is what Christ has always been.

There's no "morally grey" mankind that "has been kind of bad, but always tries to do good." or some slop. There is only one good and it's our Father. Anyone acting against our father is evil. There has never been anything else. This world operates on one single principle: If you love God, everything works out for you. Period. No countries, no nations, no history. It's all fake. Completely made up. Our textbooks were written by drunk Skeksis in some lodges somewhere and mass-produced after WWII to feed to children whose great-grandchildren, us, now accept their dumb stories as law. And they've been constantly adding to it. "This sounds plausible, put this in" becomes a "new fact recently discovered by the university of _____" Coincidentally, all scienceslop (and subsequent NASAslop) also works this way.

Ask yourself, what would be better? For the goyim to know some truths and some lies, or for them to live in a complete fantasy world? If you tell them some truths, they use those truths as a jumping off point and will discover the lies and awaken. Truth sticks out like a sore thumb. I have no decent historical example for this because they've never told us a truth. That's how fucked it is.

Hang on, how about the world trade thingy. They told you that a plane crashed into it, which it didn't, the entire thing was CGI, so that's a lie. But what if they told you a truth? What if they told you there were bombs on every part of the tower, and that it was a controlled demolition. What the fuck would their excuse be? Now that this truth is revealed to you, how could they ever explain it away? Their narrative is fried. The same goes for all of history. You think even a little bit about one inconsistency, and the whole case is blown apart. That’s why they’ve never, ever told us anything. Nothing.

If you hear even one truth about our history, you'll come to the realization that most of the shit they sell you is logistically impossible. Plus if you "get got" too many times, and realize it too many times, you'll start to look at everything as potentially bullshit. And then you'll start to see that actually it's all bullshit. And then you'll begin to seek Jesus Christ and find the truth in God. And to the people who invent our history to deceive us from God, that's a fucking disaster.

Just about every war doesn't add up. Food and water supplies when marching across continents don’t make sense. Whole populations lived in and around the most beautiful, mathematically perfect buildings but we’re told they were all dumb stinky peasants who threw sewage into the streets.

One way you know it’s fake is that in all their stories human beings are fucking stupid. The holodomor was obviously supposed to mirror the other one, but both stories have to treat the supposed victims like dumb cattle. So it barely even works! Picture yourself as a Kulak watching your children starve to death on some farm and saying "We're not leaving, this is our home." Yeah fucking right!

If you care about the truth you must look at the history books they write for us as a lie. The real truth is that absolutely nothing can be trusted before the end of "WWII" which itself may have been a lie.

All war is fake, that's something you come to understand. Go look at old war photos and ask yourself what these kids were doing when the photo was taken? What were they thinking according to the official story? Why are they standing there like that? Why are they all fucking smiling? How did that vehicle get into that hole in such a way? Why does everything look so fucking ridiculous? It's NASA-tier fakery. All fake soldiers playing dress up and having fun coming up with rediculous "oh so sad" war photos. You can see it on their faces. Their Skeksis director behind the camera was having fun with them. Fooling Christians unites them. Same thing with the civil war. With all wars. With all tragedies. All Hollywood.

It's all just dumb shit for you to get mad at. It's all designed to tear you from God. Don't buy a word. History isn't real.

[mettywiththenotes]

I only just realized recently what exactly was happening in this panel

Like okay yeah it totally looks like AFO dipped him and they're dancing but also. AFO's hand was already on that part of All Might's leg ever since they got into the air, but intentionally placed just so so, if All Might attacked last minute even in his state (which he did), he could swipe the blood from the back of his broken leg, lick it and paralyze him

[loupy-mongoose]

So, I made some impulse purchases recently, including this lovely little gal.

Hai Luna~

When I ordered her, it started a bit of a Gardevoir kick in me. So I went and did some brainstorming about Jamie's Gardie pal, Clover.

This did get very long, but there's a lot of art that I really like! :3 Plus I borrowed a certain someone from @mewtwoandme~

Growing up I always drew the green headpiece as a bony structure with maybe green skin on it, like deer antlers. (Except it doesn't shed lol)

But in my efforts to redecide what it actually is to me, I went to Bulbapedia, and that called it hair. So I tried out hair as well, and I kinda like that better...

I love my deranged Gardie. :>

(Leaning into "Mischievous Fairy/Pixie" energy)

I wanted to draw some Gwen (M&M's Gardevoir), as her and Clover's characters are different in a lot of ways, and I thought it would be fun to draw them together. Turns out Gwen dwarfs my girls, and I adore that in every way. XD

I also came to realize that Jamie would admire Gwen--She doesn't wish change on Clover in the slightest, but she does like the grace that more conventional Gardevoirs possess. Plus she'd be astounded by her sheer size.

For the fun of it, I tried drawing them both in each of our styles. (Or more like "Features" than "style")

I did not like drawing Gardevoir in her style. All the respect and love to M&M, but it felt SO wrong to me personally. XD

Annnnd... I kinda accidentally thought of a different way to take their designs...

And then I tried to figure out the logistics of giving Gardvoir a tail. I kinda like the idea of there being one that blends into the Skirt, splitting and running down the length of the skirt ends.

A little character lore; Clover removed her skirt on purpose.

Growing up, I always had in mind that the skirt was skin, maybe acting as thermoregulation, or something like that. I don't think I ever decided whether they can feel through their skirts or not, but if I want it to be more angsty, then yes, they can feel.

Warning for general and self-inflicted injury in this paragraph. As a kid I figured Clover cut it off to prevent it from getting caught or grabbed. But now, with the developing idea of there being a tail involved, I got another idea with even more angst. I'm thinking possibly Clover had a tail bone broken, and maybe it healed wrong, causing her pain so she ripped off the whole skirt.

Okay, injury warning is over.

And now a little silly that's not exactly canon, but close enough. XD

Y'all can thank @puzzled-zebra for this, as she brought up the idea during a chat. It was too good to pass up. XD

And now I wish to finish with a nostalgia ramble, because Clover is very precious to me, along with Jamie.

I started a playthrough of Soul Silver many, many years ago--even before the playthrough that would become Jamie's trainer journey over ten years ago. It was a solo run, with a Ralts egg sent in to be my only companion. (I kept the rules soft, though, as I remember needing help from other Pokemon to beat Bugsy. XD) My memories of that playthough are faded, but I remember that Clover alone beat the Champion at level 64-65. Sometime within the next few years, she was my first ever Pokemon to reach level 100 without the use of Rare Candy or experience cheats. That playthough and whatever happened in it has no bearing on Clover's story, but it's what gave birth to her as a character, and I hold that very dear.

Her nature is "Hardy, Likes to Fight", and I'm really proud of little me for taking that in the direction she took it. XD

Anyway, that's my super long love-dump of my beloved gremlin fairy. Thanks to everyone who made it all the way, I know it got pretty long. ^^

[carriedawatermelon]

Doing some little kinktober ficlets because why not. Please find the first installment of soft Ronance filth, which in this case is not actually that filthy, below.

Prompt: Seven Minutes in Heaven

Someone bumps into Nancy for about the hundredth time, a shoulder jostling her own near the wall of the living room, which Nancy uses to brace herself. At least the girl—Megan, third grade, sixth grade, a few years of ballet and most recently, second period US history—apologizes, genuinely. 

“Sorry, Nancy. Too many people.”

“Too many people,” Nancy agrees and tries for a smile, which maybe works as she gets one in return. 

And there are too many people, and there’s too much noise, and Nancy knows the occasional, protesting throbbing behind her eyes is going to become a full-fledged headache soon, but still, she stays. She stays and makes her way successfully out of the living room and into the kitchen. It’s still too crowded but only with people moving through, grabbing beer and whatever godawful punch is on the counter as they pass into the backyard or the living room or the den, where a whole other mass of bodies has congregated to talk and flirt and try to pretend like this is a normal week-before-graduation party. 

It’s why she’s still here, that last part. Because it’s the week before graduation, and she’d been sitting with Hopper and Steve talking logistics two days ago and realized that the enthusiastically offered invitation from Becky, who like Megan, she’d known for most of her life and also hardly knew at all, would be the last one she ever got. Shit, she’d thought, absently correcting Hopper’s patrol map to accommodate for the newest construction. Shit, this is it. 

She’d had that thought many times over the last few years, in a life-or-death way. It was jarring, to have it in the way she was supposed to, in the way that pretty much every other teenager in Hawkins and if John Hughes was right, everywhere else in America, had it, too. 

“Steve, switch with me for Friday,” she’d said, and he’d done it, and now Nancy is leaning against a kitchen counter, wincing as something lukewarm soaks through the back of her pale yellow button-down and watching as her classmates do exactly what they should be doing the week before summer break. 

She doesn’t feel angry that they’re pretending, the way she had with Steve. Well. She does feel angry. She always feels angry. But for the most part, it’s not with the people around her. For the most part, it’s on their behalf. On Barb’s behalf. On her own, even, when she can let herself. 

They’ve all suffered. They’re the ones who stayed or came back, the crowded party at this point consisting of most of what remains of Hawkins High, grade irrelevant. Nobody is trying to kick anyone out, and nobody’s policing the door. 

As of about two weeks ago, curfew had been lifted. Officially, the army finally managed to secure the area after the earthquake. Unofficially, El had demolished a weakened Vecna, the party offering her backup in the real world and the upside-down and the space in between. The work that’s left is still left, but it’s eliminating stragglers and maintaining vigilance, and El and Will both have a kind of ease and confidence that makes the rest of them feel hopeful, that made Nancy feel like she could switch a patrol shift to Steve to go to a party. 

“Nancy,” someone shouts from the door of the kitchen. Ally, eyes bright with a plastic cup in one hand, shakes her shoulders. “Come play spin the bottle.”

In a small mercy, she’s being dragged toward the den before Nancy is forced to provide an answer, laughing an “Okay, okay, okay!” 

In a bigger mercy, her body is replaced by one that makes Nancy’s shoulders relax, a genuine smile break across her face. 

“I was going to ask if you wanted to sneak out back and smoke, but I’d hate to stop you from a game of spin the bottle with Hawkins High’s most eligible bachelors.”

Robin’s grin is big, her hands shoved into the pockets of her black jeans, an oversized green t-shirt tucked into the front under...Nancy’s favorite jean jacket. 

“Thief!” 

Robin’s grin grows. “Fair’s fair.”

And, well, Nancy can’t exactly argue. Robin’s black jacket is in her possession—currently neatly folded in the passenger seat of Nancy’s car—where it’s been since about two weeks after their first encounter with Vecna and where Nancy intends for it to remain until…until. 

She scowls anyway, pushing back from the counter and making her way to Robin, who stiffens for a second at Nancy’s hug before relaxing into it, wrapping her arms around Nancy’s shoulders and holding her close. The jacket smells like the detergent her mom uses and a little like Nancy’s perfume, but underneath is all Robin, lavender and cloves and the cigarettes her mom smokes. She can smell weed, too, and she pulls back a little to look up at Robin, who’s looking down at her with a faint blush. 

When Robin told her, fingers twisting and face paler than usual on the couch in her basement, that she likes girls, she’d put herself as physically far from Nancy as possible in the shared space. Nancy, heart broken as she listened to halting, stuttering sentences so far from the Robin she had grown used to, had tentatively scooted closer, lifting an arm in offer. Robin had hesitated for a second and then collapsed into her, crying while Nancy reassured her. Now, with Nancy’s constant encouragement, she’s getting better about touch, about initiating it and accepting it.

Of course, it is different now, but that’s Nancy’s fault. That’s because Nancy, as she has let herself admit for the past six or so weeks with increasing acceptance, wants to kiss her. She hasn’t yet and doesn’t now, but she does reach down and lace their fingers, tugging Robin toward the sliding door to the back. 

“There’s a Robin/robber pun here somewhere but I can’t quite get there,” she admits, happy to see that the crowd of their peers thins significantly after the deck.

Robin snorts, follows easily as Nancy begins pulling them past small groups of people and toward the grass. It makes her bristle, still, the relative quiet in the largely dark yard, and Robin squeezes her fingers like she understands, because she does. The house and the summer night give enough light to navigate well enough, and Nancy has her eyes on a set of lawn chairs that seem to have been abandoned by a group now moving back toward the house, but as she moves toward them Robin stops her. 

Her grin is pulled up at the side as she looks from Nancy to a tree with a tire swing and a set of boards nailed to its trunk. Nancy sighs, and Robin moves toward them, grinning, letting go of Nancy’s hand to pull at the steps and look up at the tree house. 

“Robin. No.”

“What?” She says, in a terrible attempt at guilelessness. 

“You know what.”

“I don’t.” She says easily. “I don’t know what.”

She shades her eyes like that’ll help her see in the dark, and Nancy rolls her own, stomach swooping with affection, before reaching into her bag and pulling out a flashlight. 

When it clicks on, Robin looks back at her and bites her lip. “Nancy Wheeler. The Boy Scouts have got nothing on you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nancy says, like she isn’t about to indulge a terrible idea. “Investigation purposes, only, Buckley. We didn’t survive the upside-down so you could break yourself climbing a tree.”

“Totally, totally,” Robin responds, like she doesn’t know Nancy is about to indulge her terrible idea. “I’m just gonna investigate these first few steps and, uh…” When the first two hold, she looks down at Nancy happily and keeps climbing. 

“You have no sense of self-preservation,” she calls after her. “Ms. Delayed Walker.”

When she reaches the platform at the top, she pouts down at Nancy, features a blend of shadows in the strange light. “That’s really rude, Nance. I think you should come apologize.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Nancy says, already on the second plank, flashlight shining up from where she’s tucked it vertically in her purse. It catches Robin’s grin, and Nancy stares, feels like she’s falling with her hands securely gripped on the wood. Robin’s not the only one who’s ridiculous. 

She pulls herself into the plank next to Robin, who wraps an arm around her waist. It’s reflex maybe, because the platform is small, and Nancy sees the flash of panic across her face so she leans into Robin’s body before she can pull away, hand moving to hold Robin’s against her. 

“If we fall out of a tree before graduation, I’m going to be so pissed at you.”

Robin laughs, squeezing her, and then begins scooting back, Nancy releasing her so she can make her way into the little house behind them. For all her talk, she wouldn’t be up here if she didn’t think it were sturdy. The climbing planks are relatively new, wood stained and smoothed against splinters, so she suspected the house would be, too, and she’s pleased to find that she’s right.

It’s big for a tree house, and tall enough that Nancy can almost stand comfortably, bent just a little to explore, fingers on the cross beams below the roof so she doesn’t bump her head. There’s a little table shoved into one corner, a window in each wall where she can see that the little platform they landed on extending around the house like a porch. When she turns around, Robin has made herself comfortable on some cushions against the back wall, a pink floral print that looks like maybe it was stolen from lawn furniture. She has a joint in one hand and pats the seat next to her before reaching into her pocket (Nancy’s pocket) for a lighter. 

There’s a lantern hanging from a hook near her head, two candles inside and Robin lights them as Nancy clicks off the flashlight and settles, close enough that their knees touch. Robin hands her the joint but keeps the lighter, and Nancy bumps her shoulder as she lights it. 

“Such a gentleman,” she says, before inhaling, and Robin rolls her eyes but blushes. 

Nancy doesn’t cough, though it’s still sometimes a close thing, the weed a post-Vecna addition to her life. It helps her relax and it doesn’t make her feel bad the way drinking does and it’s given her some of her favorite nights, sitting around smoking and talking and watching movies with Steve and Robin and Eddie and sometimes Jon or Vickie. 

She passes the joint back, and props herself back against the wall, lets herself look at the girl next to her as they smoke together for a little while, making aimless conversation. There’s something undeniably attractive about watching Robin smoke, the shape of it between her lips and the way they move as she pulls, the smoke that she exhales slowly, eyes exploring the little house. 

Eventually, Nancy asks, “How’re you feeling about next week?”

“Eh,” Robin offers along with another hit, which Nancy takes. “Weird. Fine. Nervous. Excited.” She brings her eyes back to Nancy, who smiles at her. “How ‘bout you?”

“Eh,” she echoes, and Robin pokes her gently. She’s warm, this close to Nancy, and she wants more, scoots closer, takes her hand and twines their fingers. Twirling the thick silver ring around Robin’s index finger, she feels Robin’s breath stutter, her own breath escaping with a happy sigh at their proximity. Robin mutes the joint and sets it against a Coke can. “Fine, I think. I feel good about what’s coming. Good about Chicago.” She squeezes at Robin’s fingers and Robin squeezes back. “Good about Chicago with you. I’m ready, I think. It’s not like…I didn’t exactly love,” she stops playing with the ring for a second and gestures out toward the yard, the house, “all of this. High school. You know.”

“Yeah,” Robin agrees. “Yeah, that’s for sure.”

Nancy presses closer, drops Robin’s hand in favor of wrapping it around her under her (Nancy’s) jacket, bullying her way into her side until Robin wraps an arm around her shoulders, laughing, thumb running a gentle up and down against her arm as they settle. 

“The ending hasn’t been so bad,” Robin says, pauses. 

Nancy can’t help but repeat, stoned and uncertain she’s heard correctly, “The ending hasn’t…” She can’t even finish, her voice cracking on what surely is a joke, and then they’re both cackling, clutching each other. 

“Dingus,” Nancy gasps, mostly in Robin’s lap now, and Robin groans. 

“I am. I’m a total dingus. ‘The ending hasn’t been so bad,’” she repeats, mocking herself, and Nancy tucks her head into her neck, laughing, Robin’s arms tight around her waist. “That’s what I get for trying to be smooth, I guess.” And then she shuts up so fast Nancy hears her jaw click. 

And maybe Nancy should be nervous, but instead all she feels is immensely pleased. “Oh?” She says, voice teasing as she pulls herself away, adjusting until she’s straddling Robin’s thighs. Robin looks terrified and also can’t stop staring at Nancy’s legs where they now bracket her own, eyes flitting between Nancy’s and their laps. Her hands are hovering at her sides, fingers opening and closing around nothing, and Nancy takes pity, full of smug affection as she takes them and puts them on her thighs. 

The noise Robin makes is something between a groan and a whimper, and it makes Nancy more than a little feral. 

“Trying to put the moves on me, Buckley?” She doesn’t try to hide the want in her voice as she lets her own hands settle on Robin’s neck, thumbs tracing the corners of her jaw. 

Robin finally holds her gaze, fingers spreading and squeezing at Nancy’s thighs. Nancy shivers. Robin squeezes harder. 

“Nancy.”

Robin’s lips are warm and waxy, the last of the vanilla chapstick she likes clinging on through their smoking. It’s perfect; she’s perfect, hands climbing to Nancy’s waist, where she holds her steady as she deepens the kiss, the taste of weed and lemonade and Robin filling Nancy up. 

“Nancy,” Robin says when they pull away, voice breathy. “What’s happening right now?”

The affection Nancy feels is almost violent, it’s so overwhelming, and she lets herself kiss Robin again, hard and quick. “Well,” she says. “You attempted one of the worst lines I’ve ever heard.” She keeps her tone teasing, and Robin closes her eyes and groans, head thudding against the wooden wall behind her. 

Nancy tsks, and Robin blinks open her eyes, blush in full force in the candlelight. She’s fucking gorgeous. 

“And it worked,” she says primly, moving a hand to Robin’s sternum, flattening her palm and feeling her breathe before tugging at the lapel of her (Nancy’s) jacket. “Because it appears I like you so much that I’m willing to overlook things like thievery and terrible come ons.” 

“You…you like me so much that…” And then she’s kissing Nancy again, less gently, and Nancy sighs approvingly, sucking at Robin’s bottom lip. Robin’s mouth moves to her neck, her hands shifting to Nancy’s hips to urge her closer, and she goes easily, moving a hand into Robin’s hair and moaning as her tongue and then her teeth find a spot that makes her hips cant.

“Fuck, Rob.” 

She pulls away, gasping, hands flexing on Nancy’s hips. 

“Do you…do you want…” She shakes her head, eyes closing, and Nancy kisses her gently. 

“I want to date you,” she says, watching as Robin’s eyes snap open. “I want to hold your hand while you talk to me about whatever the movie of the day is, and I want to fix your collars and leave lipstick on your cheek when I kiss you goodbye, and I want to ask you to stay over and have you know exactly what I mean.” 

“Yeah?” 

Her voice is small, almost scared, and Nancy channels as much love as she can into her own as she says, brushing a thumb over a beautiful cheekbone, “Yeah. Is that something you could want, too?”

“Yes.” A hand cups Nancy’s jaw. “I want that so much, Nance. I can’t even…I want you so much. I’m…it’s…” She laughs, running a hand through her hair. Nancy misses it. “Sorry, um, sorry. I just, I really can’t believe this is happening. Holy shit.” Her smile is wide, her eyes bright. “Nancy Wheeler wants to date me.”

Nancy laughs, tucks her hair back. She feels the flush in her own face and doesn’t hate it, for once. “Yeah, I really do.”

“You’re beautiful,” Robin says, and bites her lip. “Is that…I think it all the time, you know. Like, all the time. Like, yesterday when you got mad at that guy for turning without his blinker, and you made this face, and your lips did this thing, and all I could think was how gorgeous you were. And then tonight, when I showed up and you were leaning against the counter, and I could tell you were trying to figure out how you were gonna say no to Ally, you know, you have this, like, thinking face, and God, Nancy, all I wanted was to press you back against the counter and…”

She stops, catching herself, but Nancy wants none of that. “And what, Robbie?” She takes Robin’s hand and puts it back on her hip, greedy and pleased as she watches Robin’s eyes grow big, feels her fingers flex. “What did you want to do?”

She moans into the kiss, into the grip of Robin’s hands, letting her hips roll into the body pressed against hers. When her mouth moves to her neck again, kissing and sucking, Nancy throws her head back and holds Robin close. 

Hands move from her hips to the buttons of her shirt, tentative, and this had probably been the conversation Robin wanted to have earlier, about what Nancy wanted.

It takes an incredible amount of willpower but she manages to pull back, panting, tilting Robin’s face to meet hers. Because Nancy will absolutely let Robin fuck her in this treehouse, but Robin’s a virgin, and she deserves better than cramping hands with their clothes still on. Nancy has plans. 

“Come home with me.”

“Okay,” Robin agrees immediately, head bobbing eagerly, and Nancy grins, kissing her gently.

They tidy themselves as best they can, hands untangling as they reach the house again, and the party’s still in full swing, loud and bright and smelling like cheap beer and fruit punch. 

They pass by the group playing spin the bottle on their way out, a series of shouts coalescing into a chant as a couple is sent off to the closet for seven minutes in heaven. 

Robin shakes her head. “Nightmare,” she says under her breath, and Nancy laughs. 

“I don’t know.” She grins at Robin and uses the crowd as an excuse to grab her hand again, keep her close. “I feel like you’d find lots of jackets to steal.”

She doesn’t need to see her to know her eyes are rolling. “I would bet 20 of Steve’s dollars that my jacket will be in the passenger seat of your car when we get there. The hypocrisy is heavy, Nance.” 

“So, what?” She shrugs as they break through the front door, making their way to Nancy’s car up the block. “I like wearing my girlfriend’s jacket.”

It’s quiet, and Nancy’s worried for a second that she’s overstepped, but when she looks, she finds Robin staring at her with heat in her eyes, her jaw set. 

“I bet,” Robin says, looking around and keeping close to Nancy, voice low, “I bet you’d look great in that jacket and nothing else.”

Nancy swallows, stops as they reach the car. “Wanna find out?”

[moodymisty]

May I request a yandere primarch of your choice getting very jealous after seeing you laughing with one of his brothers at a party and then dragging you back to his room after to remind you who you belong to?

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: the community wanted Yandere Horus, so Yandere Horus you all shall have. I hope you enjoy, anon. I'm ok with this, but there's more I wanted to do. But at the end of the day I had to just bite the bullet and post it so I can take a break without this looming over me.

Summary: It's the first real outing since you've been officially named as Horus' beloved, and he realizes how much he dislikes how curious everyone is of you.

Relationships: Horus Lupercal/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Big Dick Lupercal, Takes place well before the Heresy, Yandere, Toxic relationship, That typical sort of yandere dubcon but not really dubcon kinda thing, Breeding kink if you squint, Size kink/Size difference, Getting absolutely obliterated by a ten foot tall man built like a truck, if you squinted hard you could take some dialogue as a bit sexist but it’s a stretch, Aftercare? lmao this is 40k

Word Count: 2714

Perhaps you aren't the foremost expert on parties, but the last you had thought, a party was supposed to be...

Fun.

And lacking in the drawl of military strategy and logistics. This seems more so like an ineffective way for the High lords of Terra and other high value persons of the Militarium to speak to the Primarchs and their captains, but with wine involved.

As the recently crowned Lady Lupercal, many of those high value persons are now eager to make friends with you, attempting to smile as wide as comfortably possible and earn any sort of good will they can. For many of them speaking to a Primarch, let alone making connections of a Legion would be hysterically rare; Though it seems many of them have the idea to do so through you.

Horus had warned you of it, so you suppose you shouldn't be so surprised.

Only just now have you managed to get away from them all, taking solace in a quiet corner of the palace. A Custodes on guard had given you an odd look- and by look you mean just a glance from the corner of his eyes- but he seems content to allow you somewhat near him as long as you remain quiet. Though you suppose you can't remain here for long. You have to be a part of all this, as much as you might dread it.

“Lady Lupercal?”

You turn the moment you hear the distinctive accent of Macragge-born Guilliman, who approaches you as you stand close to one of the palace's myriad of balconies. That title still feels odd to hear. He brushes just past you to stand on it, and waits until you join him. His head is tilted downward at an angle to make eye contact with you.

It's night now, and you can see the lights of hundreds of ships orbiting Terra up high above. It darkens his armor and the lights of the palace cast a harsh shadow on Guilliman's clean face.

"Had your fill of this evening?"

Normally Guilliman is quite forthright, so his small talk is a bit of a surprise. Everything has lead you to believe he was a very politely blunt sort. Though you've only spoken to the Primarch a handful of times, and very briefly.

Only just recently as Horus has made it known to everyone that you are his beloved, have you begun speaking to his legion; And his fellow Primarchs.

"A little bit. I just need a bit of air, and then I'll come back."

Guilliman crosses his arms over the delicate and expensive looking robes he currently wears, having shed his armor for the evening. It must be from his home world, judging by the interesting style and shape.

"I am a bit surprised he's thrown you to the wolves like this. Before, he was quite secretive about you." You doubt Horus would let you leave his sight unless it was extremely important, and it's not as if you can rely on him forever. Or demand him to stay.

"I assumed someone had managed to catch his attention enough for me to get lost." Guilliman shifts his weight slightly, and lets out a very quiet chuckle. It's sincerity makes you smile.

"Don't tell any of the others, but we've all gotten lost our fair share of times in this maze of a palace." He rubs his temple with two fingers. "It just keeps growing, it's like a Labyrinth. I've begun to wonder if Dorn will ever cease."

His genuine exasperation makes you laugh. It's such a human gesture, and such a human problem. It's quite easy to forget they are human, at times.

You hadn't realized you'd been smiling the whole time, but it grows when you see his disgruntled face. It goes away however when he realizes he amused you.

"If I figure it out before you, maybe I'll make us a map." Guilliman smiles.

"I will hold you to that, you know. If cartography isn't yet familiar to you, perhaps you should begin learning."

You were about to respond to him, a smile on your face, but Guilliman turns his head away towards the inside of the palace; Your own gaze follows shortly thereafter.

He must've heard Horus before he could see him, because not moments later you can see Horus walking towards the both of you; His pelt shifts on his shoulders as he does. He makes a straight line towards the balcony the both of you stand on and ignores anyone else along his path.

"Here you are," Horus smiles at you, but it's not his usual one. The one that's warm and casts the room and a pleasant atmosphere. "I see you've been chatting with one of my brothers." You nod with the smile Guilliman gave you still partly on your face, but before you can speak anything more- perhaps what the two of you were talking about- Horus does so for you.

"Perhaps we should take our leave for the evening. It is quite late, and it seems nothing or anyone worthwhile is going to make it's appearance."

He looks towards Guilliman and for a split second it almost seems like an argument is beginning to brew, with the way they're looking at each other; Guilliman is confused and defensive while Horus' jaw tenses. You can't understand how his mood has so suddenly changed, neither can Guilliman clearly, but it seems something has happened in your absence.

Now you stand literally and figuratively in the middle, before retreating your Primarch's side. He will always serve as your anchor, even when he's this turbulent.

Guilliman simply gives a curt hum in response, and seemingly decides to not uncover Horus' sudden change in disposition.

"Very well. I hope the rest of your evening fares you well," He looks down to you, though the pleasant aura he had has now returned to the cold and structured one he is known for. "And I enjoyed our chat."

Horus gives Guilliman no more than placeholder platitudes and farewells, of which the man takes with a short nod, before leaving with you in tow to return to his chambers.

That entire trip to return to them, is intense.

There is no chatter, and Horus doesn't even have the soft upturn of his lips he usually wears. Instead his face his firm, with something clearly boiling beneath the surface. You wonder if it's something from when he was gone that you could ask about, when he isn't in such a sensitive state.

Even as friendly and easygoing as Horus is, his fellow Primarchs are largely not the same apart from a few, and you wouldn't be surprised if one of them managed to- in a phrase not suited to describe a Primarch- pissed him off.

When you enter the deepest most room in Horus' wing of the palace, what serves as his bedroom, you suddenly feel his hand on your shoulder. You would've turned around even if he hadn't done it for you, as he takes a knee to get more on even height with you. But even with it, you still have to almost look slightly up at him.

Suddenly that hand on your shoulder moves to your face, gripping your jaw and forcing you to look at him. That firm, irritated face has been replaced with an angry, irritated expression. His nose slightly wrinkles at the top, brow furrowed.

He holds your jaw tight, but you’re not fooled into thinking it’s anywhere near him putting in effort.

“What is your title.”

You’re confused for a moment, frightened by the look in his eyes, as he adjusts his grip. You try to stay his name, but it just comes out as a confused stutter. He reiterates with more clarity.

“What is the title I gave you.”

You grasp his wrist tight and whimper out:

“L-Lady Lupercal.”

The noise that arises from him is somewhere between a hum and a growl.

“Did you forget it while you were busy being a little coquette in front of my brother?”

You hadn’t; It had been the focus of your short conversation with Guilliman. You’d tried your hardest to be nothing but polite to him, with the formality expected of speaking to a Primarch. But this is all new to you; Whatever Horus saw wasn’t there, and you’re desperate to prove as such.

"N-No, he just came up to me and I was trying to be polite, Guilli-"

He swallows the name of his fellow primarch with his lips, pressing them against your own. It's angry; Forceful. You can feel his hot breath on your skin as he takes in heavy breaths, and how tense he feels. You moan softly into his mouth but even the brief moment of pleasure is overcast by Horus’ fuming anger.

He pulls away from your lips with a soft pop, and still in a kneel begins undoing the broach of his cape. Once it falls to the floor his eyes meet yours and he states:

"Take it off."

His sentence is vague and you stand unsure in the gargantuan room, as he now removes his wristguards. Once they're off, he puts a hand on your waist and pushes upward, disturbing the fabric of your dress. You feel it pull and stretch against his hand, as if it’s little more than parchment. He could ruin it all in one fell tear.

"I am being patient with you."

It's hard to disobey a primarch, especially one staring at you with those eyes. The fabric of your dress falls to the floor moments later, undone and forgotten. You step out from the circle it makes at your feet.

You imagine the only reason he hadn't simply destroyed it was after having it made just for you, in the colors of the Sons of Horus and to his exact specifications- their legion mother needed to be in worthy attire he has said- his patience won out over the potential days of headache.

But it feels like a blink you go from standing to being nearly swallowed by his sea of a bed, blankets tussled around your naked form. You think you might’ve backed up until you fell onto it, but it’s all a blur.

"The Crusade has taken much of my time, and since I have introduced you to my brothers, perhaps you have forgotten your place,” He says as he undoes the fastening of his belt.

Even on pieces of furniture meant to handle a man of such size it still buckles and bows underneath his weight, shifting your body as he cages you underneath him. His hand grips your thigh, and the sheer size forces them apart. Your body tenses and squirms underneath him.

To think such a short conversation would've had him so fuming, as his hand presses against your cunt. It makes your lips purse and and words that you might’ve considered saying don’t even leave your lips. His fingers roughly press through your folds curl inside of you, an aching stretch that has you squirming underneath him.

Though it’s not as if you have any chance of moving, even the slightest bit of his strength has you completely at his mercy.

You can feel his anger in every motion, but your blood is pounding in your ears enough that you can barely hear him. You think you might've said his name, told him to slow down, but even if you had he doesn't listen in the slightest.

Pulling his hand away from between your thighs he’s quick to flip you onto your stomach, and you lay exposed before you suddenly feel him press again the back of your thighs.

In an odd, impossible to explain way, you at times almost forget that your beloved towers over you at near or over double your height. That he possesses neigh untenable strength.

Now is a moment you do, as he presses his hips against your ass and buries you in the plush material of the bed.

Your fingers grip the blanket like a lifeline as he buries himself as deep as he possibly can, staying for a moment for seemingly little other reason than to torture you. Even with only the slightest bit of his weight on you, you feel trapped and barely able to move.

It's taken time for you to get used to taking Horus without hours of preparation- and while it still does take time, you'll always feel like he's overtaken your entire stomach. It’s that teetering on the edge of pain that has you gasping, a body not made for him being forced to. Horus is normally exceedingly gentle, but less so tonight. He is at least gentle enough as to not break you.

Whatever he saw that wasn't there between you and Guilliman, he seems intent on teaching you a lesson on not doing.

“Horus, pl-“

His massive hand grips the blanket beside your head as he grunts overtop of you.

“You are the legion mother of my sons.”

Your back arches and lips purse as his cock brushes against places so deep that it almost has your eyes watering. You swallow the massive knot in your throat and try not let out enough noise that passersby could hear.

“You will be the mother of my blooded sons, one day.”

The implication has your heart race with fear and something else as the primarch holds you down. You barely have the time to think about it, it only sends a jolt of feeling right down your spine into your gut.

Given his size it’s so easy to push you around, that he often times has to press on your shoulder and hold you like some sort of toy. Even the softest thrust can push you forward and nearly off of him; You don't have the strength to hold strong against it.

Worn and tired your nerves spark from so much sensation, cunt tightening around him. Horus continues to thrust into you with little care and your teeth grind, toes curling.

It feels good, so good, but it teeters on the edge of dangerous. Especially knowing his mood. Then again, sometimes even the simplest things are dangerous, with someone like him.

The primarch curses and swears in both high and low gothic as he finally cums inside of you, the inhuman amount leaking from you when he pulls out.

Horus looks over you, and it seems whatever you’d seen in him earlier is gone- for the time being. Even if you can't look directly at him, it's almost as if you can feel the emotion in the room change. More odd Primarch things, you assume. Not that it matters much in the end.

You lay tired, legs limp as your body aches.

Perhaps in the moment it may feel good, very much so, but oftentimes your body then reminds you that it isn’t made for a Primarch. Particularly one who decides not to be gentle with you.

There has time where no one sees even a hint of you for days, after he's done with you. He apologizes it for it, but you can always tell with that smile of his, he isn't actually apologetic.

He gently pushes you with a hand to that you roll on your back, and you look up at him worried, wondering if he's still angry.

“I am sorry, my love.” His words are sweet like wine, like they so often are, as his hand not gently holds your cheek. He isn't anymore, and you don't question it. You don't want to bring it back.

Though this isn't the first time he's become this way, though it is the first time he's done something physical in response.

“Now that my brothers know of you, I can’t help but feel as if they might take you from me, once they realize how perfect you are.”

There’s words you want to say, many of them, but you can’t manage it. Only a requited whisper of love is what you manage to say. Horus takes it well and his saccharine sweet smile always manages to pull you in and ignore the things behind it.

“I only wish for you to be mine. Always and forever.”

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Buried Secrets Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Hello my lovelies!

As I’ve recently mentioned, I’ve started planning and researching for my next fic adventure, Buried Secrets. Not to worry, I do still plan to finish up with our dear dancing Dieter before I officially begin to post this one. However, I am currently working on the characterization for Frankie and Mya in addition to developing the plot outline so that I have some time to stew on it.

Something fun that I did for Closed Position was a ‘Meet the Characters’ post. It really helped me get to know the characters a little better while also introducing them to you all before we dug into the story. So, without further ado, let’s get to know Frankie and Mya a little bit!

About Frankie Morales in Buried Secrets

Frankie wasn’t in the best place after he and the guys came back from South America. He felt a lot of guilt over what happened to that fucking asshole Tom and the men who were killed in the small village where he crash-landed the chopper. He still has it in his head that he took the first shot that was the beginning of Tom’s demise. Because of that, he had a little slip up and relapsed. It only happened once, but it was enough for his lady to leave him. Especially since she was already angry about him going to South America.

After losing his family, he realized he needed to get his shit together and figure his life out before he spiraled any further. He worked to get his pilot’s license back and also had the brilliant idea to start a private security business. He managed to convince Santi, Will, and Benny to join him in the new business venture.

Thus far, the business has been lucrative, allowing them to expand and take on able veterans who needed employment. They have created a pretty sizable team as a result. Benny and Will typically handle the day-to-day people part of the job while Santi is in charge of logistics. Frankie is the boss and gets final say on everything. If his gut tells him it’s a bad idea, he no longer hesitates to shut things down. He’s not willing to take unnecessary risks.

In order to keep himself busy (and away from drugs) Frankie helps Benny with his MMA fight training. He spends lots of time in the ring sparing and working out with Benny to keep his friend focused and in shape.

When Frankie isn’t training with Benny, he’s working on an old muscle car that he recently purchased. It needs a ton of work, but he’s got the time and needs the distraction. When he’s not working on his car, he’s with the guys at the local bar. He often plays darts to unwind and usually tries to keep his drinking to a minimum, if he even drinks anything at all. It’s on these nights when the guys reminisce and talk about Tom. He was an asshole, but he was still their captain and brother in arms after all.

Frankie has also begun to spend a lot of his time at the local gun range. He’s found that something about it helps calm and center him. It allows him to clear his mind and focus on hitting the target rather than his painful memories. In a strange way, it gives him a small piece of military life that he’s missing as a civilian.

Frankie often thinks about the money that they left in the mountains of Chile. He knows that the money could change all their lives in ways he can’t even fathom. He lays in bed at night going through every possible scenario for getting it back, but everything he comes up with feels too risky. He’s too afraid of losing another one of his teammates. So, he lets it fester. It’s a splinter which is slowly infecting his soul. It makes him angry that they lost so much for nothing. It dictates every decision, often forcing him to take the safest route on all things out of fear and makes him second guess his choices. It's a touchy topic for him that he immediately shuts down each time Santi brings it up.

Even though Frankie is now free to be with others, he actively avoids it. He is lonely but doesn't feel he is in a place to pursue anything serious...or casual for that matter. He is completely taken off guard the day Mya Carnahan waltzes into his place of business asking to speak directly to him regarding the specialized security services he offers. She makes him question everything about himself and what he knows about women.

About Mya Carnahan in Buried Secrets

Mya is going to be a little different than all my other OFCs. While they are all badasses in their own way, Mya will definitely take the cake. However, she does have somewhat of a shady past.

Mya's first choice of profession was in law enforcement. During this time, she joined the forces' SWAT team, allowing her to learn many special skills. She eventually gets caught up in a whirlwind romance with one of her arrestees, Damien, who turns out to be a rather charismatic individual that is involved in selling black market antiquities.

As Damien lures Mya deeper into his world, her love for history grows. She takes advantage of the large sums of money she begins to rake in as a black market dealer and puts herself through college in pursuit of a more reputable profession in archeology. She wants to be the person to find the artifacts, and maybe collect some things to sell on the side too.

As Mya delves into the myths and legends of ancient civilizations, she learns about the lost city of Paititi. She becomes almost obsessive over it, convinced she knows where to find it. It becomes her ultimate end goal, she only needs someone to fund a proper expedition to test her theories.

It's because of her relationship with Damien that she gets tangled in a mess that she can't find her way out of. In a transaction gone wrong with a prominent crime lord named Miguel Collazo, Damien runs off with the money and the artifact that Collazo wanted to purchase, leaving Mya to deal with the fallout. She makes a deal with Collazo, agreeing to lead an expedition to find the lost city with promises of finding a treasure like no other. Collazo agrees to be her benefactor for the expedition, with the guarantee of consequences if she doesn't deliver.

Through all of her past experiences, Mya learns how to become somewhat of a chameleon. She can present as a proper and sophisticated antiquities dealer, or she can suit up and handle business. She has a knack for blending in and manipulating situations in her favor to either get what she wants or save herself. In some cases, it’s both.

Mya has been trained to handle a wide variety of weapons and in mixed martial arts. Her favorite hobbies include knife throwing, rock climbing, and riding her motorcycle. She also loves research and solving puzzles. She is intelligent and very good at all aspects of her job, however, she can be extremely stubborn and fiercely independent to a fault.

As you can imagine, Frankie is not prepared when this woman walks into his life. Mya has his head spinning from the beginning and frustrates the hell out of him. Especially when she defies him, insisting he is there to protect her team and not her (because she can take care of herself). These two are so much alike, which creates an interesting dynamic and causes them to bump heads, A LOT. However, they can't help but to be attracted to each other. As we progress through this little adventure their relationship evolves, and they do eventually fall for each other. They will do whatever necessary to keep the other safe as both of their pasts collide, causing all hell to break loose.

I'm really excited to dig into this one and do something a little different. Are you excited yet? How are you feeling about these characters and the plot so far? Do you have any predictions or conspiracy theories (you know I love it when you all come at me with those).

In case you missed any of the teasers/asks that had other little tidbits of info, feel free to check those out HERE. I’ve also started my typical nonsense with collecting vibe posts for this fic (I know how much some of you love those). You can find them HERE.

Until next time, 💜Mysty

🔎P.S. There is a fun easter egg from one of my favorite adventure movies in this post. If anyone can guess it...I will give you another little teaser. 😏

👉 Tagging anyone who interacted with the masterlist and/or teaser post(s). Feel free to shoot me a DM if you would prefer to not be tagged for this fic going forward.

@2birdsofafeather @72scsuze @76bookworm76 @a-beautiful-but-sassy-world @almostfoxglove

@angelofsmalldeath-codeine @annalovesflorida @anniet852 @ashleyfilm @ashlovesdrpepper

@auteurdelabre @avastrasposts @biggetywitch @bitchwitch1981 @bluestar22x

@bunniboo0015 @burntheedges @captainredspade @chaoticfestninja @cheekychaos28

@christinamadsen @copperhalfcent @darkheartgatita @diabaroxa @din-cognito

@elisabethloves @fifitheragertot @for-a-longlongtime @girlofchaos @guelyury

@harriedandharassed @hisandsnakes @imdrinkingpedro @jackie923 @janeie87

@jeewrites @jensensational71 @jessthebaker @jessthebaker @joels-darlin

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@maried01 @maryfanson @missladym1981 @misstokyo7love

@notyouraveragemochii @nova-starlite @olafsmiles2020 @oliveksmoked @harrysrosetatto

@owlhypnosis @pasc4lfuzz @pearlthegurl @plancommence @purplewis44

@rav3n-pascal22 @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @ryuzakemo128 @sandaltoesocks

@sherala007 @sjc7542 @southernbe @stevie75 @stileslvr

@sub-aro @sundaze29 @survivingandenduring @suziesc @the-strawberrythief

@thethirstwivesclub @timpletance @tiredandtwitchy @titlee78 @trulybetty

@tupelomiss @weho2kcmo @willcw-tree @xchar1 @yep531

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@papipascaaaal @shadowpandas @tangled-tumbler-blog-blog @you-give-aspirin-headaches @jollybhie 

@sunshinehaze1 @diamondclit0ris @midnightbabylon @nerdieforpedro @cheyennerenee10

[scrubbinn]

Mimic HRT: month 22 “sight seeing”

“All ready?”

“Yeah, how many places are we visiting today?”

“I need to stop by THEMS for the support group meeting today, and pick up recording equipment. I need to write a report of mimic behavior/sensitivity analysis by the end of the week.”

“How much have you written so far?... You haven’t written anything have you?”

“...Busy.”

“HUN! You need to actually work to keep your job!... but if you wanted to spend the whole day together and you did that stuff later. I wouldn't say no.”

“Nice try Abi. But the recorder is coming with. I've used them since I could remember, it's practically a member of the family. Now you can wait in my room during the meeting… But if you wanted to…”

“I'll stay here, I'm not feeling up to meeting your new friends yet.”

“Boo. Don't worry I won't rush you. See you in a bit. There's snacks in the fridge, don't eat any of the picnic stuff. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

“So how was it?”

“It was… alright. Sorry that makes it sound like it didn’t go well. It went perfectly fine!... Just a little sad Alexis still isn’t back. It’s been three weeks now. Apparently it’s just something she ate recently.”

“So food poisoning?”

“I honestly don’t know, it didn't seem like I was allowed to pry into it. I hope she’s fine, I was hoping you could meet her.”

“…But it went well otherwise, yeah?”

“Yeah! Everyone’s super nice! I just hope I come off the same way. I’m sure they know me as the nervous wreck who works for Erian at this point. I wouldn’t be surprised if they hate-

“HUN!”

“AH! W-what is it? Oh, right, thanks. I need to stop thinking like that, huh?”

“It’s ok hun. It’s hard to stop thinking like that. Talk to me about your meeting. Was it good otherwise, besides one of them getting food poisoning?”

“Oh, yeah! It was super nice! I feel like we ended up helping out with a lot of problems we all had today. I didn’t end up talking much, but working in my field has been great for helping out with any logistical problems someone might have like with continuing prescriptions or stuff like that. 

I did notice one thing though. I, uh, well, I wasn’t talking much because usually when I’m at a meeting I get terrified of everyone looking at me. Not in an anxiety sort of way… I think, but in a, I've been spotted and need to slink off and hide, sort of way. I think it’s a mimic thing, like I don’t like to be known, you know? But this time was different. I felt a lot more at ease, even when I was the center of attention. I think it had something to do with a few people having simultaneous big changes with their AHRT. It made me realize that maybe what I hate isn’t being seen, but having humans know what I am.”

“Oh… Do you feel that when I look at you?”

“No, I know I’m safe with you. It’s just an interesting thought, is all. It’s like maybe humans are the natural predators of mimics, since they have the pattern recognition to notice strange details and spot the mimic. It could potentially lead to the origins of mimics. Maybe we were just normal animals that got hunted to extinction.”

“Uh huh… Wouldn’t there be fossil records then? Or some other evidence… Look hun, I’m happy that you’re happy, but you’ve been kind of laser focused on this origin stuff lately.”

“Well it’s important. Erian barely understood what he was giving me, I’m the only one of my kind that I’m aware of. It’d be nice to find my roots. Not to mention, he can’t even put this new Mimic HRT on the market until he actually knows everything he put into it. There’s one ingredient he apparently just found and stuffed it in there to see what would happen.”

“Hun, the more you talk about him, the more I worry about your health and your job.”

“It’s fine, my health is perfect and I don’t think I’ll be fired anytime soon. Anyway, come on, it's picnic time.”

* * *

“It's been so long since I've been to the beach. Look! Hun! Sandpipers! Ooooooh they're so cute!”

“Abi, are you good to walk around like that? I get the sand isn't going to be hard on your injury, but you're still recovering. And you shouldn't go swimming!”

“I'll be fine if I'm walking a little bit, don't worry. Now come here! Sit with me.”

“Y'know they say Kaiju sized sea creatures live here. You think I should dive in and look?”

“Pfffft! Who's they? Wouldn't there be like no fish at all if there were things bigger than whales in there?”

“Hyper city is weird, I’d believe in anything strange, like Erian being a half decent person.”

“...Hey hun, do we need to go to all these different places?”

“Getting tired already Abi?”

“Yeah…”

“I'd like to. My behavioral study on mimics is important to others, but it’s more important to me. I need to know so much about mimics. Erian is already working on figuring out the biology side of things, but I need to know how I think. So that I can make sure I'm safe to be around.”

“...So what do you think about this place?”

“It's… It's lonely.”

“Well. We're the only people here right now.”

“Not what I meant. There's a, longing, hoping that something underwater is looking back. But it isn't. I can just tell. I know when I'm being seen, I want to be seen. I just don't want to be recognized. Beaches feel weird, like I'm standing on the side of a cliff needing to jump off. The sea is nice. It's an empty void where I can pretend to be a stray clump of seaweed waiting for some fish to swim by. The prey, all looking at me, no humans around to know what I am. Huh, not sure where that image came from. Maybe mimics are amphibious.”

“You mentioned this sort of stuff before. You just know when you're being looked at. Are you ok? You're not getting an anxiety attack or anything right?”

“I'll be fine. And if I'm not fine then I know you can help, but, let's talk about something else.”

“Ok… So do you have gills or something? Also do I have to worry about you running into the ocean never to be seen again?”

“haha, I can shift gills. And no, if I went feral, maybe, but I'm still partly a slime, I'd eventually dissolve if I stayed in too long. Though, I've been losing those parts more and more.”

“I kind of wanted to ask. Are you ok with that? You came here to become a slime. Do you still feel dysphoric as something else?”

“I'm… We can figure that out later. Let's just watch the waves for now.”

* * *

“Isn’t this near your job?”

“Correct, it’s a nice little place a block away. Also I just like the name. Roost café”

“I’m not big on cafés hun.”

“Trust me, you’ll see why we came here… What do you think?”

“Well the tree is cool, and the magic fairy lights are pretty. Oh they have those little cat walkways, but there’s no cats here. Well, It’s very, cottage core. Very… You.”

“Oh, so you don't feel the aura do you?”

“Aura?”

“Yeah! Do you seriously not feel it? Mabel, the witch who runs this place, set up an aura that’s supposed to pacify any familiars and it came with the side effect of calming down anyone else who enters this place. Isn’t that amazing? Just think about all the places that could benefit from this. Imagine if the clinic had this, or restaurants, or government buildings, then people wouldn’t be so worried, it could help out so many therians!”

“I don’t know hun, I think a lot of people would probably hate having that sort of thing everywhere. Wouldn’t people hate that sort of thing? Getting emotions suppressed because it’s supposed to be safer. If I got insulted for existing and couldn’t get angry about it, I’d probably just feel awful.”

“Oh. huh.”

“Sorry to wreck your dreams.”

“It’s fine. Here, you get some snacks, my treat. Just get me some chai. I’ll find us a table to sit at”

“Ok. mwa! Don’t feel bad about the idea, I’m sure you could do something really cool if you think on it. So don’t start feeling bad about yourself for thinking about helping people.”

“No kissing! Not until I know it’s safe!... 

…What the heck am I doing, of course there’d be problems like that with an aura like this. How would I even set up magic fields in specific locations, I doubt the owner here is going to willingly teach it. I’m putting my feelings over others again aren’t I. Ever since I was told about this place I can't stop thinking about how everything would have been fine if I had an aura like this then. Maybe Abi wouldn't be stuck in a wheelchair. 

It's only supposed to affect familiars right? Wonder why it affects others like this. I think I read somewhere that mimics used to be familiars to wizards. Maybe I'm Abi's familiar now…”

“What are you mumbling hun?”

“Oh! Nothing! Don't worry about it!”

“Ok? Want a bite hun? There’s so many cute pastries here!”

“I can't eat pastries anymore, only meat. I pretty much just stick to the tea here. It's good tea.”

“That's so sad. Enjoy your dirty leaf water. I got some apple pie. Jealous?”

“Not really.”

“Mmmm, so good! This place is really cute though, Apparently you can take any of the fruit growing on the tree there. It's a little cramped but you could call it cozy. When we get a cat do you think we could bring it here?”

“I think it needs to be a cat familiar. You could start practicing to become a witch. But this place is nice I guess. I usually come here after work, you should try some of the tea here hun, it pretty much cures any migraines I get.”

“I'll stick to pepsi.”

“Well glad you like the place. I think you'd like Mabel too.”

“Oh she seemed really nice when I was paying. So… did you just want tea or was this place part of your study.”

“...I just wanted to stop by for tea. We can head over to the next place soon. You'd like it. It's called the Heart Mender boutique!”

“I don't mind staying here longer with you hun. Let's just sit a bit longer.”

* * *

“Ok, the recorder is back on.”

“Hun what happened, you can't just start freaking out for no reason and run out of the store. And your first instinct is to start documenting it, that's not healthy.

“Look I'm sorry, I just wanted to go clothes shopping, but something felt really strange, I tried to ignore it for a while. I feel bad for making a scene but I had to leave.”

“Hun, you've been panicking a lot lately, and you just take out that recorder if anything ever goes wrong. Have you talked with your therapist about this?”

“I have. Look, I’ll be fine, but right now I need to record these thoughts. please just tell me what you thought of the boutique ok?”

“...Alright. Fine. Uh, It was really nice. The one at the counter, Samara I think, showed us around the place. There were a lot of different styles and shapes for all the clothes. Like even ones that therians could wear. I bet it felt really cool for you when you saw that jacket with the four sleeves. You don’t usually have four arms but it’s inclusive and I know you like that stuff. It’s cool. I even asked and apparently the owner makes them! She sounds cool. Plus it seems like they'd be able to help you pick out an outfit. You’ve never had a good sense of style.

“Thanks hun. I can count on you to always sneak in an insult about my past self. Well, It helped calm me down I guess. Hey, uh, not part of my point, but… I don’t really go to boutiques. Is pottery a thing they usually sell?”

“Not really? The accessories, like necklaces, are pretty normal, but I’ve never seen pottery being sold in one. They’re really cute though. I love the one you bought. You could grow some bamboo in it. And Thank you again for getting me this necklace by the way. It's so cute!”

“So you didn't notice anything else?”

“Hun… If something's the matter you have to tell me. It's just a nice place. I want to visit here again.”

“You remember how at the beach I mentioned I could always tell when I was being looked at?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I could feel something else watching us. I don't know what, but something was there. Looking through the eyes of everyone. No, that's not right. Like everyone everywhere was seeing me in one place.” 

“Ok, maybe we should focus on breathing. Just calm down for a moment. Even if you're right about, whatever you're trying to say. It's still none of our business. Everyone in the shop are nice, and I don't see anything bad about the store online. Is it really that big of a problem for your new senses?”

“It's not. I'm sure whatever secrets the Heart Mender boutique has, it's their business. I just. I wish I wasn't the only mimic. I could tell whatever connection there was, it was something my instincts wanted. It wouldn't stop screaming at me that I should be the same way with my own kind. I was jealous. Whatever I felt in there, I wish I had it… Abigail, don't get near me. I could bite!”

“You won't. I just know, and you could use a hug. I wanna go back inside, they had a lot of cool stuff. I'll hold your hand while we're there, and I'll help you pick out some cool clothes.”

“...I feel so weird, in a, how can I be this dumb, sort of way. Let's hope I haven't scared anyone.”

“There's no other mimics, so you could just say it's a mimic thing and no one would know.”

“Jeez hun, hahaha, I can't just go around lying like that.”

“Hey, technically, it was a mimic thing. And turn off your recorder this time. No recording equipment remember.”

* * *

“So, the next location is an interesting one. And I think you'll probably want to wait in the car for now. And before you say anything, listen. I actually mean that this place is apparently really bad to stay in. Thayer Library is something of a ghost story. Where they say people feel the presence of something watching them”

“So, you want to see if you can feel their presence then?”

“Yep! Also it's a spooky haunted library, how could we not go here for a date! Oh! There it is, come on! Oh this is going to be great. It’s close to sunset too! Alright, let’s get going hun, I’ll go get the wheelchair.”

“Actually, could I stay inside?”

“Is everything alright? Are you feeling haunted.”

“... I think if I step inside I’ll die.”

“Oh. oh, you’re serious. Alright, I’ll be quick. Stay safe then, I’ll be right back…

…Huh, is. Is this it? It’s barely a tingle. It’s certainly empty. I don’t even see a receptionist. Is it open? I guess I’ll just do a quick read and leave. Suppose I can spend time documenting behavior. Something is definitely watching. But it’s not thousands like last time, just a few. Something big, but strangely calming. I feel completely relaxed here, like I don’t have any problems. Who’s watching? And why does it not bother me? It’s not human, so then it’s some other force, is it a guard, a curious visitor? Well I’m in a library, I guess I should read…

…I wonder if this place has any books on mimics. The books here feel like they could disintegrate with a touch, but there’s not a speck of dust on them. Maybe I could actually find some information on us. Huh, this might be my first real chance at a lead. This could be perfect! I could… Why is Abi calling? Wait… It’s already been an hour!? How?! When!? Ugh, I’ll have to come back here later. I get the sense I’m not wanted here. Maybe Abigail is right, this place could be dangerous.

There’s one more location to go to. I’d rather not head there in a bad mood. I think I’ll check out a book. Mimics surround us? Yeah I wish. Ominous title, and what are the chances I pull this book out at random… I should go.”

* * *

“Mayday, is the place closed?”

“Yeah, it's closed, apparently some sort of crime happened a while ago and they’re closed to the public. I can only imagine what anti-therian story is being spun right now. I just hope they don’t try to contact Erian’s clinic about this. They treat me like a child who needs to hand the phone over to a dad.”

“God, I hate this place, why did we even have to come here?”

“The zoo is important to visit, even if it's the culmination of everything awful in this city. I know people who live here. I hope they're ok… Do you think I'd end up living here in a tiny glass cage if I did go all the way with mimic HRT?”

“I don't want to think about that hun. Let's just go already.”

“...Sometimes when I go to the support group, someone doesn't show up, and I can always tell what everyone's thinking. The first thought is always that they went full feral, that they're stuck here, that we've been forgotten again. I always make sure to visit here every month. Just in case. It's never actually happened. Except the once. It makes me think what would happen if a colony of mimics showed up in Hyper city. Would we be accepted? Or would we be all cornered into this zoo for the sake of a fake safety that only exists in people's heads. What I would give to see this place turned to rubble.”

“Do you need another hug hun?”

“I'll be fine.”

“You could use another hug.”

“I guess I could yeah. It’s hard to stay sad when you’re around.”

“So did you figure some stuff out today?”

“Oh absolutely not, Erian is going to be pissed when he finds out I have nothing. But it was fun. And I got to spend some time with you, which is always a plus. Let’s do this again next time, and maybe I won’t be so buried in my own head. We can go to a spa or something. Some good old sight seeing.”

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Start - Prev - Next

Hey y'all, This one took us quite a while to write out, two weeks to write out, including a nearly completed scrapped script. Anyway, this chapter is very special to us because it uses a lot of fun locations that others have created. Hyper city is an amazing setting that has given us so much to work with and has become the perfect place to write about. We wanted to showcase some of our favorite places and if any of them interest you, you should go read where they came from.

Kaiju beach: @noreo-oreo

The roost café: @ashedink

The Heart mender boutique: @home-sweet-hive

Thayer library: @dawning-mars

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Mention list: @a-shramp, @calliecwrites, @be702, @respectfulevil, @hyacinthdoll1315

@aster-is-confused, @bloodandbrandywyne, @glitchgloop, @nyxthewary, @lunadook

[s-wave-entertainment]

*BAM*

THAT WAS THE SOUND OF ME BUSTING THE DOOR DOWN. HI. Okay so first thing's first, I recently saw an animatic (??) by @/armintist on Instagram about N's perception of Tessa as of ep. 6 and it has broken the dam. Your honor I think about what must have been going through his head at that given moment So Often; some may say too often (I know my roommate definitely would, sorry Anna-). Y'all, he literally just remembered her existence and because we have no canon timeline as to how long was between eps. 5&6, I'm going to assume it was no LESS than two hours, IF EVEN. Doll could have gone straight to "Tessa" from Uzi's house, we'll never know. But like... what in the fuck was going on in his brain? This person, who he KNOWS that he knows, that he has vague, barely comprehensible memories of from a time far back into his past that he only just got back, is suddenly standing right in front of him again. And he hesitates, because OF COURSE HE DID. It looks like her (or does it? He doesn't remember his face, he never even truly saw it), it sounds like her, it feels like her... but how long has it been? And why here, why now?

Honestly, "Cyn's" pretty smart. She knew he would be willing to go along with what he told her because he's never really pressed into his memories before. He's relieved the tidbits of them, sure, but he tends to acknowledge them and move on. She knew all she had to do was act right and he would probably trust her. But what she didn't account for was him finding a love worth fighting for, and that's where her ultimate fucky-wucky was. But I'm not here to talk about "Cyn's" strategy, I'm here to talk about our beloved traumatized murder robot puppy.

What do you think happened when it hit him that that skin over Cyn's body wasn't of it's own creation? That his friend was technically still alive, if you count her preserved remains being thrown over a robot body like some sick and twisted reverse fursuit. And it can't be said that that didn't happen, because it definitely did. N's little episode in the hallway while "Cyn" hunted them down showed us that he is in fact recovering his memories. Slowly, and at very unfortunate times, but he is. And I can almost guarantee you that at some point, in some way, he must have recovered the full memory of the gala massacre. And oh me oh my, that must have been a long, hard day for him. Thank God he has Uzi now-

That aside, he must eventually realize what happened. And as he remembers more and more good times with her, his little heart probably just shattered more and more. Along with all of the other BULLSHIT he must be remembering following ep. 8.

AND ANOTHER THING ON THAT NOTE. I have so so so many emotions about N and how good he is and how,,,, Genuinely Good his heart is. Like actually. Y'all, need I remind the court that he was supposed to KILL Uzi. He had her PINNED TO THE WALL with a wing, but after watching her father turn around and ABANDON HER, he stopped. And sure, it can be reasonably said that this is because he spent some time with Uzi beforehand, but how long would they have had together, logistically? Ten minutes, maybe twenty, tops?? The fact that that was enough for him to COMPLETELY CHANGE SIDES and want to help her instead (which is also attributed to the conversation they had in the cockpit but again, TEN MINUTES)... listen, Uzi had no one before she found N, but N had no one either. J openly abused him, and V had to act like she hated him to protect him. N was lonely, just like Uzi. Somehow, someone found him who was kind to him and seemed to actually care. She was a little edgy, but she talked to him and she listened. It was more than he had at the base - and the same was true for Uzi. But again, I could talk about how much I love NUZI for hours, right now I want to talk about how good N's heart is. He was a worker, once. A worker who did everything he could to be... useful, to Tessa's parents, but a good friend to Tessa. And he loved his friends. He has,,, so much love in his heart. He always has. And he gives it so readily, and it can hurt him, but he like - he gets better about it, I believe. He can guard himself better these days, but he just. He still cares. And he cares so much and he just. GOD. GOD I LOVE HIM AND I FEEL SO TERRIBLE FOR WHAT HE'S BEEN THROUGH. FUCKING HELL-

[slytherinshua]

(IM)PERFECT WEDDINGS

genre. fluff. a little hurt/comfort. warnings. a lot of crying and distress. yul is there to comfort <3. a little talk about having children. pairing. fiance!yul x fem!reader. wc. 2k. request. no. a/n. i wrote this specifically for @candewlsy <3 mizu ik you've been having a bit of a hard time recently but i hope this cheers you up a bit!! yn may or may not be inspired by you 👁️

Yul knew something was wrong with you the second you refused his request to meet up 5 days ago. It was times like these that he wished he could speed up the preparations for your marriage and just be able to see you at any time he wished as your husband. But for another 4 months, he would still be confined to the frustrating but precious title of fiancé.

Due to his studying and teaching at Jeongjingak, he hadn’t seen you in longer than he would have liked. It was bordering on almost 2 weeks and Yul was rarely the clingy of you two. If he was feeling the effects of missing you so greatly that it was hard to even focus on his work, he wondered how much worse it was for you.

You had as busy a schedule as him, mostly because of your decision to take on all the preparations for your weddings single-handedly. He knew you wanted it to be as perfect as possible. You had been dreaming of this day since you were little. Now that you had found the perfect man, you needed to plan the perfect ceremony as well. From the flowers, location, food, ceremony, afterparty, and even attire, you were responsible for planning it all. 

Yul had always admired how big a dreamer you were. You had fantasies and aspirations and always worked incredibly hard to complete them. And while he was hard-working and book smart, logistical and artistic planning had never been his strong suit. He was lacking in many ways, and watching you work reminded him of it every day.

Or he would have been able to watch you, if you hadn’t been seemingly avoiding his presence for over twelve days now. It was a perfectly sunny afternoon and Yul had finished all his work early. There was absolutely no excuse for him to not come to see you— even the weather was encouraging him to pay you a visit. He knew you were probably cooped up in your room, writing a million letters to all the vendors and designers you had hired for the wedding. It would benefit you greatly to get outside.

The sounds of shouting and subsequent rushing of footsteps was definitely not what Yul had anticipated hearing as he walked up to your home. One of the maids seemed to rush out of the house in a panic, her eyes widening and her face growing hot out of embarrassment once her eyes landed on Seo Yul.

“Master Seo! Oh, goodness, you should not be here right now— If Miss. L/n finds out she’ll only panic more—”

“Why is she panicking?” Yul interrupted the maid’s hurried jumble of words, concern growing every second he didn’t know what was going on. He had only been gone from you for twelve days; what possibly could have happened in that time? Before he even got an answer from the maid, he was already making his way towards the front door, unable to wait a second longer to figure out what was wrong.

“M-master Seo, please!” The poor maid scurried along after him, warning him to not go into the house. Yul seemed to be conveniently deaf to her pleading. As soon as he stepped in, he realized why he might not have been wanted at this particular moment.

Dozens of fabrics were… well, everywhere. On every surface, scattered on the floor, and even some stuck hanging from the walls. Yul’s concern grew, as well as his utter confusion and astonishment at how the house could have gotten this messy.

He followed the sounds of distress until he reached the doorway to your room— exactly what he expected. A harsh shout for everyone to get out sounded, and the silence that followed was almost deafening. Yul waited just outside in almost frozen shock, registering that the shout must have come from your mouth. Never in his life had he heard you shout. You barely ever got angry. A row of servants quickly filed out of the room, each bowing their head in shame.

Yul breathed out heavily, considering whether it would be wise for him to just leave now and not bother you. The last thing he wanted was for him to make you more upset, especially if you felt like you needed to be alone. But he couldn’t bear to leave when he could just make out your broken sobs and sniffles from the closed door. It was the most heartbreaking sound he had ever heard.

He slowly slid the door open a little to peek inside the room, being as quiet as possible in order to not startle you. The room was as messy as the rest of the house— extravagant fabrics strewn all over the floor and tables. You were sitting in the middle of the room, hunched over yourself. Yul noticed that you were dressed in a particularly elegant white hanbok dress that draped over your figure perfectly.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” He spoke as softly as he possibly could, making sure he didn’t make the situation worse. He wanted to help lessen your tears, not create more. His soft approach seemed to have the opposite effect that he wanted, though. As soon as you heard him, you startled and turned around quickly. Upon laying eyes on him, your sobs only got worse and you immediately hid your face. Yul’s heart sank.

“Love? Tell me what happened.” He coaxed, kneeling down next to you, placing a hesitant hand on your shoulder. He could feel how tense you were, but also how you softened ever so slightly once you felt his touch. He felt relieved that he didn’t seem entirely unwelcome. “Can I help at all?” 

“No! It’s— it’s all ruined, Yul! W-we should have never tried in the first place!” You cried, heartbroken, and Yul frowned again. He pulled you closer to him, wrapping his strong arms around you in a safe embrace. It was clear that he wouldn’t get an answer to what started this mess until you had calmed down a bit. He stroked your back and softly shushed your sobs, waiting patiently for your crying to subside a little. When it finally did and your face was dryer, he pulled away from the hug slightly and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong now, love?”

You nodded, eyes focusing on a certain spot on the floor as you started explaining in a mumble, “It’s stupid, but… Since I can’t make my own dress, I wanted to get it from this particular dressmaker. But with our wedding in 4 months, they won’t have it ready in time.” You looked up at him again to gauge his reaction, your eyes watering again as you tried to go on. 

“I tried the other dresses, but they’re just not the same. I just wanted to look pretty for you, and now— now it’s impossible.” Your face crumbled again as you gripped the current dress you were wearing, looking like you wanted to shred it to pieces.

“What do you mean it’s impossible? You always look pretty to me.” Yul said simply, cupping your face in his hands and brushing away some of the new tears that had escaped. He offered you a soft smile, something that would help reassure you that everything was okay.

“I get that this… dress is important to you. You want to wear it more than anything, right?” He asked quietly. Knowing you and how long you had looked forward to getting married, he knew you had probably planned your dream wedding since you were little. It seemed as if you had had your eyes on this particular dress for years now.

You nodded, “If I had more time, I could order the fabrics myself and sew it… But I can’t. This dressmaker has the best fabrics. You know I know everything about fabric— it’s really important for the design. It just won’t work with anything else.” You sighed, seemingly more relaxed about the situation now, but still disheartened.

“Did you design the dress yourself?” Yul questioned. You had always been interested in textiles, and picked it up as your main hobby for most of your life. Most of your wardrobe was made up of your own designs, and you had even designed some pieces for him. Each design was so detailed and stunning; Yul thought you were better than any other designer he had seen.

“Yes. Songrim doesn’t have good seamstresses, Yul. They’ll mess it up, I know they will. This was supposed to be a mockup, but it’s completely different from my original design.” You gestured to the dress you were wearing right now. Yul looked at it again, trying to figure out what you thought was so wrong with it. It looked beautiful to his eyes, but he knew next to nothing about garments.

“We could always… postpone the wedding?” He offered, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. He had already waited so long for this that waiting even longer seemed like torture. But he knew you cared more about the wedding than he did, and he would do anything if it made you happy. 

“But… You wanted to get married before Spring.” You reminded him, heart sinking at the thought of postponing the wedding. It was even worse than not being able to wear your dress. It was clear that you would have to sacrifice one or the other.

“I’ll just pick a different design.” You whispered. “Mine was too complicated to complete in 3 months anyway…” 

“Are you sure?” Yul’s worry reached his voice, and though you didn’t feel quite sure about the decision now, you knew it would all turn out good enough. It didn’t need to be absolutely perfect, sometimes good enough was something you had to accept.

“I’ll save the design. Our daughter can wear it at her own wedding. I’ll make it for her myself.” You spoke, your smile growing as you thought of the idea.

Yul raised an eyebrow, “Our daughter?”

You glanced back at him, “I know you want one.”

He nodded, his face growing a little flushed, “I-I do, but we’ve… never… talked about it before.”

You laughed, “Well, we just did.” You kissed his lips before any more flustered words could come out of them. Despite the disaster that Yul had found you in, and the fact that the situation was still partially unresolved, the kiss made everything feel okay again. You sighed in content at being able to feel his soft lips against yours. Twelve days had really been far too long.

Your hands found their way into his soft brown hair, threading it through your fingers as the kiss went on. His hand cupped your jaw and his thumb stroked your cheek gently as you finally let all the stress of the afternoon panic leave your body. You giggled when you broke apart, your eyes shining with pure love as you looked at your betrothed. His hair had gotten messy from your fingers and his face was flushed as it always was after a long kiss. But he looked so content and at peace, and you savoured knowing that you brought Yul some rare serenity that he had seldom had the luxury of experiencing in the past few years.

“I can’t wait to call you mine.” You confessed, basking in the silent eye contact that Yul gave you. His eyes seemed to hold a million different emotions, all of them professing his undying love for you.

“You know that I already am, love.” He whispered back, pressing his lips to your temple forehead one more time to complete the statement.

↳ k-drama taglist: @eternalgyu,, @wolfmoonmusic,, @cha3w0n-hearts,, @tempobaekh,, @candewlsy,, @cosmicwint,, @cyberpunksunwoo

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Sinners that are 1 or 2 degrees separated from our Saint share your stories! Ill share mine. by u/ContentPineapple3330

Sinners that are 1 or 2 degrees separated from our Saint, share your stories! I’ll share mine. So, bear with me. Let me set up the scene. It was 2021 (so our Saint still was popular in the US)— I was on a flight to California, and I was bumped up to first class. And I found myself seated by the most beautiful man. He exuded confidence and his clothes spoke real money. Honestly, my first thought was “Crap. I’m sitting by a famous actor, and I don’t know who he is. Crap, crap crap.”

Well, he wasn’t an actor — as I soon discovered before the plane took off, when he took a call to speak to what I presumed was a coworker about logistics, “Monticieto, blah, blah, blah, Jaguar, Range Rover, blah blah…” and my curiosity was piqued. Was he a lawyer? Real estate agent? Who was this mysterious moneyed man? I didn’t know, but somehow the ice was broken when he asked me a very boring question — and we fell into easy conversation. And once the stewardess gave us drinks (yay first class) the conversation flowed quite freely.

We were around the same age (late 20s / early 30s) — and he mentioned he used to live in Toronto. I asked him casually if between Monticieto and Toronto if he ever ran into Oprah’s latest interviewee, St. Meghan Markle, and he looked me dead in the eye. “Yes. Oh yes I have,” and gave a deep sigh. I then said, as chill as I possibly could muster, “Tell. me. more!” (At this point, thanks to wine/vodka soda water we were chatting like long lost best friends), and he got a bit standoffish and said, “well… I don’t really like talking about her because… people don’t really like what I have to say.”

I decided then and there to show my cards (recall 2021 — it almost felt dangerous to say you disliked her! Oh how times have changed!) — and I told him point blank that I thought she was pretty phony (though I was not nearly reliably informed about her antics as I am now.) He looked relieved by my response and replied, “oh you don’t know half of it!” And the next half hour he spilled anecdote after anecdote about her behavior.

So he was very much involved in Toronto’s high society, and was/is actually friends with Corey her ex. (Like, he pulled up his texts with him to share recent pictures of him and his wife and their cute kid.) After sharing many anecdotes of her pretentiousness and ultimately that “no one was missing her in Toronto,” he told me people only really tolerated her because of Jessica Mulroney, who according to my travel companion is very likable “once you know her.” (He only had nice things to say about Jessica, for what it’s worth. 🤷‍♀️)

His (and my) favorite story that he shared was that one time Corey took her for a romantic getaway somewhere tropical. But when they went to check into the hotel, Madame tried to get their hotel rooms upgraded. She started throwing a tantrum at the front desk staff, and in a fit of rage said “DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?” (Recall, she’s Rachel from Suits 😆) And everyone was like….. um…. No?

This was apparently the moment where the scales fell from Corey’s eyes, and he realized what he was dating. Apparently, he was considering proposing soon / during that trip, but instead — he decided to head back to Canada and end the trip early. I don’t think they immediately broke up — but I think Corey was starting to rethink everything. And was very much NOT heartbroken when things ended, but very much relieved.

Anyways, it was a rather entertaining flight!!!So that’s my story, but I know there’s people here that have better! post link author: ContentPineapple3330 submitted: July 11, 2024 at 01:57AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[tanadrin]

i fired up civ 5 recently bc i wanted to see how it compared to my memory of it, and if anything it's actually much, much worse.

one unit per tile just... does not work with the idiom of the civilization series! units are not like armies in a GSG, they're like units in an RTS game: grist for the meatgrinder. you build them and throw them at your enemy and if they lose combat, they die. they don't retreat and recover morale, you don't get a chance to reposition and try again, they just go poof. but now in addition to that, you can only fit one unit of a type on a given tile, which means combat is forcibly spread out over a huge space. it's slow, slowed down further by the fact that it now takes a couple turns to fully resolve a fight--i guess the idea is that you can have your injured units fall back, except because of the way units get blocked in now, no you can't!--but you still need tons of units to take cities.

which means they didn't get rid of doomstacks. doomstacks are still logistically necessary to win wars! they just made them really fucking annoying to move around the map.

and on top of that, because OUPT applies to all units, it means you are also constantly having your scouts and workers and other civilian units being blocked in by your own units of the same type, or other players' units of the same type, meaning if you sign an open borders treaty with the AI you are frequently signing up to having your own units' movement being jammed up in the worst way by computer players. and on top of all THAT the units cancel their movement orders if the destination tile is blocked, even if the destination tile is on the other side of the map and you can't see it--which means, basically, any long-distance movement order is liable to be randomly canceled if an AI unit ends its turn on your destination tile.

it feels janky at every single level. the worst possible fix to something that wasn't even really a problem--and if they really wanted to they could have implemented some kind of very basic attrition mechanic. or some other kind of soft cap.

and and and on top of all that, it makes roads and railroads substantially less useful, bc frequently you cannot actually fit all your guys on one road or railroad--but you can't just carpet your territory in roads now like you used to do, because roads cost maintenance per turn. just. ugh. fractally bad decisionmaking! like different people were working at different ends of the design doc and not communicating at all!

the global happiness system means expansion is soft capped early in the game, which makes it feel less like an empire management game than a game of managing four to five cities. since very many units are now hard capped by resource availability now, and expansion is limited, AFAICT in most normal games this means you get like.. two swordsmen? ever? mainly it's strong attack units that are capped in this way, but their defensive counters are uncapped, which means actually playing strategically with your army composition is more annoyance than it's worth. in practice, what this incentives is just building the best trash unit you can afford en masse and throwing them at the enemy, but, of course, see the problems with OUPT.

they took out civics and replaced them with Social Policy trees. but everybody has the same set of social policy trees. and there's a bit of a tradeoff here in which trees you choose to fill out first, but you never then switch those old trees out for new ones like civics. they're just permanent bonuses. so there's no sense of, like, choosing your government type.

and then in BNW i guess they realized people missed that, and created Ideologies, which are just a bonus extra-big social policy tree where you get to pick between liberal democracy, communism, and fascism. but of course there's only three. and this isn't unlocked until the late game.

what they really should have done is added more civics and rather than just having you progress from early game civics to late game civics made all civics contextually useful. and maybe given you some extra civics that were unlocked early in the game so you could strategize around them.

as a part of this change culture is now more load-bearing, but cultural victory is just... weird and stupidly complicated. you have to build tourism, and do archeology, and build wonders that provide slots for great works that your three different kinds of great artist create, and all this other crap. versus domination, where you just conquer the other guys. or science, where you just build your spaceship. it's dumb and bad and awkward.

there's no conquest victory now. only domination. but because of the way domination works, it's now not possible to move your capital manually. this is awful and i hate it! let me move my capital, damn it!

buildings no longer go obsolete, which means that if i am founding a city in the year 1973, i still need to build a City Walls in it before i can build a Military Base. this feels ridiculous. and the series already kinda has this problem where it feels like late game it takes forever to get a city really up and running--don't make it even worse by making me build shit from classical antiquity before i can build modern facilities!

the AI is not very bright. they don't expand very much. on big maps, most of the map will remain empty most of the game, at least up through mid-level difficulties i usually play at (that are supposed to be "standard", so I assume the game is balanced around them)

diplomacy is irritatingly primitive. there are few ongoing agreements. declarations of friendship all last a fixed amount of time. the AI is constantly interrupting you to tell you it doesn't like you or it does like you or you and another AI player all like each other. just expose an opinion modifier and be done with it! harun al-rashid and i don't need to pass notes like it's grade school!

they nerfed the range of air units and especially nukes. which feels really weird. the 20th century saw the invention of strategic bombers that had a range of thousands of miles. why can mine only reach cities right next to my own? why do my nuclear missiles have a pathetic range? sure, sub-launched nukes are a thing, but they're only one part of a proper nuclear triad. there's no MAD anymore!

especially because the world congress can order you to stop building nukes and there's nothing you can do about it. you can't defy world congress bans and suffer a penalty. international law has some kind of magical force that even if you are the undisputed hegemon you cannot help but obey. this is very stupid! especially because they could not think of anything interesting for the world congress to do, so it's all shit like banning random luxury goods.

all the stuff i do like--the city-states, the hex grid, the core idea of the trade route system--is swallowed by annoying bullshit. to take the trade route example: you can make money by setting up trade routes. it can be quite lucrative! and you have to protect your trade routes from bandits and shit. but the menu for issuing trade route orders is a mess--way too much scrolling, you can't sort by lucrativeness of destinations, you have to constantly re-issue trade route orders, and the last trade route a unit was on isn't highlighted, or sorted to the top or anything like that. so it's lots of scrolling around, it's very annoying, and it's repetitive as hell.

the real stick in the eye is that this game was not only reviewed well, it was reviewed glowingly when it came out. which is bizarre to me! yes, it looks nice. the art is good and the music is pretty. but it feels awful to play! it is on almost every single metric less fun than civ 4! civ 3 is more fun, and civ 3 was terrible. i hope to god firaxis was bribing people left and right for good reviews because the only alternative explanation i can think of is that everybody who was reviewing strategy games in 2010 was also in the grip of a brutal glue-sniffing habit.

[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Chapter 3

I thought of mentioning how the meals from the first two chapters were low in energy and fat and that would cause a problem, but this chapter goes and addresses that.

I really love how this series is focusing on the logistics of adventuring. I think Lord of the Rings is the only other story I've ever read, watched, or played where we're explicitly shown that mundane items like cooking pots and eating utensils are part of the adventurers' inventory.

The fact that everyone is carrying a backpack is putting more thought into logistics than the average story.

It's interesting how our dreams can interpret real-world information while we're sleeping. Marcille was having nightmares from the previous chapter and then she smells food cooking. So her brain interpreted the distress generated from her nightmares and the smell of food and jumped to the very recent association she's been dealing with of eating horrifying-looking meals.

Oh wow. I just noticed how worn out Senshi's axe is.

That thing definitely doesn't cleave as well as it used to. Meanwhile his cooking utensils look brand new. Definitely shows what his priorities are.

So this chapter is about basilisks. I'm curious if they have the general sexual dimorphism that chickens have. The one in this chapter is definitely a rooster.

And basilisk eggs seem to be more similar to sname eggs than chicken eggs based on how Marcille said they feel soft. Now I want to know what a basilisk chick looks like. Is it a big puffball like most chicks and has a little snake sticking out of its butt?

I've had to deal with aggressive roosters before and this is exactly how they act when they attack with their spurs.

The chicken half looks like it sees Laios as a rival male. Meanwhile the snake half looks like it sees him as a threat.

Senshi has a really bad sense of priority here. There's a guy dying from poison and Senshi doesn't want to give him the antidote because he'd rather use it for cooking, and he doesn't think he should cook the basilisk right now cause it's not lunch time, and he'd like to let the basilisk marinate overnight cause it will taste better.

I can't tell if he just doesn't care about the guy dying from poison or he doesn't comprehend that the guy will die if they don't do something soon or if he's just too much of a perfectionist who refuses to offer anything unless it tastes as good as possible.

I think Laios and Chilchuck realized they're being just as nonchalant about the situation as Senshi is.

A glimpse at the kinds of status ailments we might encounter on this adventure.

More bits of me talking about Marcille's right-handedness. She grabbed that basilisk drumstick with her right hand, but put it in her left hand so she could express how good it tasted. Then she raised the drumstick when she offered to heal the guy probably because she was holding it in her right hand and just instinctively thought that was the hand holding her staff.

She muttered that she's not very good when she offered to heal the guy. And last chapter, Laios recommended against Marcille resurrecting the guy they found because it might go wrong. So yeah, she's a black mage, not a red mage.

If this series doesn't end with monster cuisine being a skill that adventurers practice, I'm going to be so mad.

What a grim note to end the chapter on. Laios's team helped out that adventure team only for them to be completely wiped by the man-eating plants. If corpse retrieval and resurrection services weren't already an established thing, that would not be funny at all.

back

[phoenixremix69]

The Gerudo and genders part 2

Ok, someone asked for this and I've been pondering on the further logistics and here are my thoughts

So for this thought process, we're going to have to understand the mating and gender habits of two species. One is the common bee and the other, more relevant species, the mourning gecko.

Now, the mourning gecko has an unusual reproductive process called parthenogenesis. The species is almost entirely female, and every birth happens asexually. though they aren't clones, as every single one born has a recombined set of genes from the mother

Now how does that relate to the gerudo you may ask? they clearly seek romance, at least in more recent games, and one even has a kid with Hudson(would that i could be so lucky). Well, note how I said the Mourning Geckos are ALMOST entirely female. There are males, however, they are usually completely impotent. BUT, the geckos also sometimes do something called pseudo-mating, where-in the females will seek out males and even other females, superfluously mate, then get pregnant. For a more sentient species, they would probably realize that finding a mate would lead to more consistent babies, and that other species usually consider romance a prerequisite to babies, so they study romance. that's not to say any random gerudo CAN'T get pregnant, but it would most likely be random without a mate.

Now we get to bees, the words voe and vai, and how it relates to Ganon. Now, something that you have to understand bee genders is that they don't really have genders as humans know them. The only reason the common laymen knows that queens are female and drones are males or whatever is because early human biologists tried to view bees through a lens of how humans work. the queen lays the eggs so that's got to be a woman. the drones do the impregnating so they're male. In fact, a bee's gender is their job. A queen is a queen only, and they evolved to fulfill that role. if that queen dies or is even not doing that job well enough, the "lower" bees will kick her out and pick a grub to make into a queen through feeding it a special substance.

That's what I think voe and vai are. They are Gerudo terms for something that doesn't translate well into Hylean/english, but the hyleans see that they usually assign voe to males and vai to females, so that must be a one to one translation. In fact, I think Vai means breeders and Voe means fighters.

Hyrule is a dangerous place, the desert especially. There's gibdos and moldugas, and all sorts of monsters running around. Wouldn't it be nice if there was a specially evolved guy around to deal with all those problems? Nice thick fat stores so it doesn't have to eat often. a more omnivorous diet like a pig so it can eat anything it finds regardless of toxicity. maybe extremely physically and magically powerful so it can deal with any threat. that's where the pig versions of ganon come in. it's like the ultimate combat form of the gerudo. the reason the curse of demise always picks the "male" gerudo to inhabit is that it's a species specially designed for combat and survival.

well that's all fine and dandy for the pig ganons, but what about the beefcake normal guy ganons? well, remember that last part of the bee rant where a grub will be made into a queen if the other queen isn't doing it's job? wouldn't you say screwing off to go conquer the planet is a dereliction of duty? so the gerudo would naturally pick someone new to be the voe, and that voe would train to grow stonger to fulfill it's task, and if that happens to coincide with Demise's curse needing a new host, well, why not? they're not exactly as survival heavy as the pig ones, but they've clearly got the magic chops, just look at Urbosa and Riju, they're probably a few squats and bench presses from evolving fully into voe themselves

[bluecatwriter]

⭐️ for the director’s cut game!

Since you wrote one of my favorite Jack/Arthur fics ever, I give you my very first Jack/Arthur fic: "Words and Voice Fail Me"! "When Jack Seward has a breakdown trying to record on his phonograph on October 11th, Arthur comes to comfort him."

(CW for discussion of period-typical homophobia) 

-This was *checks notes* my third fanfiction I ever posted, and reading back over it, I can really tell— not so much by the overall writing, which has stayed pretty similar over the past two years, but by the way I handle the details, especially logistical details of who's doing what when. I just wasn't used to writing with such precision, and as a result a lot of the writing comes off as a little awkward. Would definitely streamline if I were to rewrite it now.

-This starts out with Jack's canon narration from the book, interspersed with description. This is one of my favorite ways to write because it feels very much like directing a play— the lines are there, but I'm "directing" (writing) the stage directions, as it were, to show how the character is saying the lines.

-I liked the idea of Jack breaking down here as sort of the culmination of all the past trauma that he hasn't been able to process yet, thinking of the way that Mina's "funeral" reminded him of Lucy's death and everything around it. 

-Like most of my fics, I just started with the premise and let the character voices lead me. (It's very similar to playing an improv scene, just with me playing both characters rather than bouncing ideas off another person.) I originally intended for it to be a pretty straightforward emotional hurt/comfort, but as I kept writing and the scene kept unfolding, I realized that Jack was going to lose it and ask Arthur to kiss him— and when that happened, it opened up a whole different plot than I was expecting.

-I am still pretty happy with the line, ""Well," he said, straightening his cuffs just for something to do with his hands, "I suppose I shall—" He wanted to follow the phrase with an excuse, but his mind blanked out on anything he had ever done in his life. "—go."" This is a good example of me 1000% projecting my nervous habits onto Jack. 

-This was the first time I realized that characters could have erotic tie-pulling and talk about emotionally-charged subjects while their lips barely brushed. It was the beginning of an Era for me. ;)

-There's some kinda interesting gender stuff here, with Jack escaping into a fantasy about him being a woman so that his feelings for the men in his life would be "natural." I feel like there's more I could've explored there, but the fic was long enough as it was.

-In this fic, I very intentionally wrote Arthur as demisexual, and have projected it onto him ever since. 

-Jack has curly hair in this fic! This was before I realized that I'd given all three suitors curly hair, and decided one had to go. The casualty was Jack, so nowadays I describe his hair as "fine."

-I'm a sucker for "one character says 'I love you' and the other returns it but they're not sure they mean the same thing" trope, and I use it here. (This may be the only time I've written Jack saying "I love you" to Arthur— in my more recent fics, I often have Jack express his sentiment in different ways, rather than just saying the words.) 

-It was fun to write a little scene with Jack pouring his heart out about all his crushes, and Arthur very logically analyzing them to explain why they make sense (except for Van Helsing— he just can't grasp that one). It was also a good excuse to throw in the phrase "virile manhood."

-Originally I wasn't gonna have them kiss again, but then the dialogue just made sense for Jack to beg for another kiss, and… well. There they go!

-"You can trust me, I'm a lord" is probably the best line-before-a-fade-to-black I've ever written. ;)

-Of course there's some angsty aftermath in this one, since Jack is still struggling with a lot of self-loathing. I feel like some of the writing here is a bit rough, but I'm still happy with the overall emotions that come across.

-I originally had this end on a pretty melancholy note, but reworked it to make it more hopeful that, regardless of whether or not they sleep together in the future, their friendship is still solid.

Thanks again for sending the ask! :D

(Ask game here)

[vaspider]

I'm not sure if you've had to deal with the discourse over whether mental health issues qualify as disabilities lately but I just realized i have a recent anecdote pertinent to the discussion.

I'm a truck mechanic. I work on the vehicles sometimes called big rigs, eighteen-wheelers, semis, and probably many other names. Vehicles designed to haul freight on highways. I think you and most of your followers get the idea.

Several years ago, ugly things happened to people i considered friends. I feel a level of responsibility for what happened but people I've told the story to insist it wasn't my fault. People who were there tell me the same thing. I still can't shake the feeling but my objective level of blame is irrelevant.

About a month and a half ago, something i won't be elaborating on very vividly reminded me of what happened. That reminder sent me on a spiral. I literally could not stop thinking about what happened. Literally nothing else was on my mind. I had to go into work for a swing shift (4pm-midnight) that day. I had to do an oil change on a truck. I forgot to reinstall the drain plug because i was distracted by thoughts on ugly things from my past, so when I tried to pour oil into the engine, the oil just spilled straight onto the ground. I didn't notice what I'd done until I'd wasted nine gallons of oil that way. I corrected my mistake, concluded the service, and started my next job, another oil change.

I still couldn't think about ANYTHING besides events I can't change and a burning desire to make things right. I did most of the oil change service then had the customer start the engine of his truck... Before i added any oil. The driver saw a "low oil pressure" warning on his dashboard and stopped the engine before it was too late but had he been less attentive, his engine would've been totaled, costing my company $50k USD or possibly even more. The only reasons i didn't lose my job are because my boss likes me and defended me to the corporate safety people, and because i have no other similar mistakes on record.

I've since learned that this is consistent with Real Event Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, a subset of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder wherein the afflicted is hyperfixated on correcting past mistakes. Obsession with one's quality as a person, with one's morality, is the defining symptom. I haven't been diagnosed yet but I recently started therapy; my therapist might be able to provide such a diagnosis and help me deal.

The reason I'm telling you this is because it provides you with another data point in that argument i mentioned at the beginning of this ask. Mental illness nearly destroyed a truck and interfered with time-sensitive logistics. It nearly cost both a driver and his company significant amounts of money and lost time. Mental illness nearly cost me my career. If mental illness can take an otherwise-competent mechanic and turn them into a confused and distracted mess incapable of the simplest job a mechanic can do, i think it qualifies as a disability as much as, say, cerebral palsy or Parkinson's, or any other disabling medical condition.

(I'm probably gonna get hate mail and mockery (not from you, from the peanut gallery) for telling you about this major fuck-up but whatever. Maybe this anecdote will change some minds that need changing.)

Yeah, sounds about right. 💗

[darkonekrisrewrite]

Toga seems to avoid killing when possible

Especially when it comes to heroes, even select heroes after Twice’s death

(Spoiler warning)(Toga meta and Quirk Theory)

In Bnha Toga Himiko has had multiple chances to personally kill many individuals, including Ochako and Tsuyu but for some reason she never strikes a fatal blow.

I think this adds and plays into the conflict that she’s currently having in recent chapters using Twice’s Quirk, a part of why she’s not able to use it to the fullest extent.  

Starting with all the examples of Toga’s avoidance of critical hits:

(Very easy cut available here.)

The first instance of Toga not following through ^, here in the first conflict between the three girls, the forest training camp arc.

While true that she did try to cut Ochako’s facial area, possibly implying a fatal hit, I think coupled with this ^ and all the other instances (especially with Ochako), Toga was possibly aiming for the cheek.

The next example came later in the Provisional Hero License Exam Arc:

(Camie seems extremely fine ^)

Toga impersonated Camie, a hero student from another school, to get into the Hero license exam.

Drugging her so Toga could take her blood, Camie was asleep for four days and when she woke up, didn’t remember anything and as shown by the picture above (from the/stated by the Bnha Wiki) she “doesn’t care”.

There wasn’t much reason for Toga to kill or not kill Camie, the mission could have been completed either way as nobody realized anything was suspicious or discovered the real Camie in that timeframe.

But Toga went with the latter option.

(Side Point: I don’t think that body disposal could have been a problem either thanks to Kurogiri’s Quirk, if Toga went with the kill option, as Kurogiri was captured during the Shie Hassaikai Arc after the License Exam Arc/Camie mission.)

Next example Rock Lock:

Toga, with the help of Twice, very easily takes out the Pro Hero Rock Lock during the Shie Hassaikai Raid.

But not kills, despite the fact that she could have easily stabbed him in the throat.

Keeping the Hero silent wasn’t an issue, as Toga would have had his mouth covered either way as shown above and while Rock Lock was only stabbed in his side but was still unable to warn his Comrades about Switch going on when they entered the room, the results would have been the same.

But still no kill.

 Bnha games provide evidence too, only with Civilians instead of heroes:

While this could be seen as merely creating a distraction, I think a dead or very close to dying body would have gotten a similar response from the heroes, maybe even more so than a “knocked out passerby with a little blood loss”.

The logistics of this example are a bit iffy but I think it does add more weight to the overall point.

 Cut ahead to the Final Arc:

(Toga landing a stab on Ochako’s back shoulder ^)

There’s no reason Toga couldn’t have gone for the back of the neck or upper spine/center back here, and at this point in the story there’s no reason for her not too.

Toga had already been rejected by Ochako (though Ochako did later have a “change of heart”, wherever that may lead) so there weren’t any of her blood/love related reasons to miss the kill shot unless there still are lingering feelings or the kill isn’t really what she wants.

I think it’s both in this case.

Same with Tsuyu soon after:

(Tsuyu seemed okay in the moments/chapters following this ^)

This doesn’t seem hostile at all, of course I mean after the initial take down.

The same instances come and go with the same results in Toga’s actions not to kill certain people, even after Twice’s death.

 Although that being said, Toga does still definitely kill others, those who are a threat to her and the Lov’s existence.

The other Pro Heroes on the battlefield (Post Twice death, giving rise to Toga’s very justified belief that the heroes will kill her and all the people she cares about) and the civilians in the way/part of hero society’s system (I again say that’s not a problem as 90% of the Bnha Civilians are still awful).

So while I don’t think that Toga has a problem with the concept of killing, I think it might have more to do with her targets.

Why can’t Toga use Twice’s Quirk to its full power?

A number of reasons coming together I think, including but not limited to this ^ one.

Loving and the desire to become (the person Toga is turning into) are necessities to the full power of Toga’s Transformation Quirk.

Toga usually does need some form of love for the person who’s blood she takes and then in that way knowing enough about them to function properly in the transformation but I do think that the idea that “Toga’s power is more based around the intent to become that person” makes slightly more sense when looking at Toga’s Nature.

With Toga wanting an “easier life” and the bonds/happiness that come with it, so she zeroes in on people she believes have the qualities/lifestyle that she wants.

But another part of why Toga can’t use the Twice quirk might be because of the targets of her current battle, tying back into the ‘Toga avoids killing sometimes’ point.

Ochako and Tsuyu being the Heroes she’s fighting and needing to be in conflict with, with the clones stating that “All Hero must die!”, and with that intent not being what Toga really wants.

Toga’s “Pure Love” (though bloody) isn’t to kill others, at least not them.

Current Chapter Spoilers: I think the resent leaks help this theory even more at least for now, as any of the clones could have killed Tsuyu when they had her tied up and the real Toga could have stabbed Ochako center or a little higher, hitting more vital organs.

Also Ochako will be fine; Bakugo survived a Rivet stab in roughly the same area (and several other places) running him through completely, even kept fighting for a while despite the blood loss, so no worries.