#even though experience tells me I really REALLY should

[nichuuu]

Beats Me - 7: Emails I Can’t Send

ft. Kim Minju

Word Count: 10k+

The first few minutes of your meeting are spent by Yeji and Yuna to catch up on life. 

You sit by the side, detached from the conversation as you sip on the latte (what did they put in this thing? It’s so damn good). They relive some highschool memories, ask each other what they’ve been studying—the usual stuff. The croissants at the counter look really good, and you’re wondering if they’ll taste as good as they look. Maybe you should buy one later. 

Yuna reminds you of Ryujin, only if Ryujin looked friendlier and less intimidating upon first glance. Her voice is distinct, her laugh even more so as she does that thing where she moves her feet like she’s running while she doubles over. Her eyes stay focused on her senior who—for the first time since you’ve seen her—is smiling. Yeji’s lanky fingers stay affixed to the straw, moving every now and then to disturb the ice as she stirs the drink. The coffee swirling in milk leaves light brown streaks against the side of her glass, creating these streaky patterns that look like they probably belong on an art piece. There are some details in her life that she briefly touches on but never delves into, probably because you’re there next to her.

Then it’s finally time. You’re dragged back into the conversation when Yeji says, “So you want to join the band?” and suddenly the cat that’s situated just outside the glass door doesn’t have your attention. Yea. Been looking for a chance to play, is Yuna’s reply, I saw you guys play at that bar the other time. You guys were great. 

Eunbi should be here. She would’ve been ecstatic to hear that.

Yeji nods her head, stirring her drink idly as she silently looks at her junior. You hope that Yuna’s stratagem to enter isn’t just flattery. A sinking feeling tells you that it just might be, judging from the way she’s shifting under the gaze of her senior.

“Remind me Yuna: how many years have you played the saxophone for?” Yeji inquires. Yuna’s response is quick, almost rehearsed—five years now. Never stopped playing for a single moment in my life—and Yeji seems rather pleased by it. Yuna sips on her grapefruit ade, casting a glance your way as Yeji drums her nails against the table. You shoot the younger girl a reassuring smile, and hopefully she gets the message that she’s doing great in your books.

Then Yeji unfolds her arms, taps a nail before your crossed arms that rest on the table to get your attention. The same nail points towards Yuna, and its owner simply gestures with her chin. You get what she wants you to do, though you would’ve appreciated it if she’d just told you what she wanted, and you clear your throat while sitting up a little straighter. 

“Um… Yeji kinda has me here to… Talk about my experience.” You internally cringe at your opening statement. What is this? An alumni sharing session? you chide yourself, all while you’re continuing on to whatever it is you have to say, “When you join this band, do expect yourself to be pushed a little. The hours aren’t all that taxing, but you gotta be able to… You know, strike that work life balance, as they say.”

And that’s just about all you have to say. Yeji neither smiles nor glares at you, only giving the smallest of nods as she focuses her attention on her junior. “If we give you a chart, you better learn it by heart by next practice. If we have a gig, practice will get more intensive. There’s a lot of things you need to be able to do Yuna. You can’t just think that you’re up to it; you have to be sure that you can shoulder all of these responsibilities.”

She’s making this sound like military recruitment, you’re thinking. Yuna’s definitely feeling a slight shift in atmosphere, and she’s fiddling with her glass as she stares straight into Yeji’s eyes. If you’re being honest: Yeji is definitely exaggerating the rigor of the band, and it’s probably scaring the poor girl. Your guitarist’s gaze isn’t at its peak intensity, but it’s enough to make Yuna purse her lips in silence, her smile fading from her face. Yeji greets her junior’s silence with a grim expression.

“So. Let me ask you again.” This time, Yeji’s tone is the furthest thing from gentle. “Are you ready to join us?”

Yuna stares at the melting ice in her glass. She takes a sip of her coffee, lets it sit in her mouth for a bit, and then swallows. “I’ll… I’ll text you when I’ve made up my mind.”

And all at once, it feels like all the happiness in the world has been sapped out of this cafe. Yeji stands up, leaving the rest of her latte untouched as she shoulders her bag and pushes in her chair. 

“I’ll pay you for the latte,” she says, albeit a bit too nonchalantly after she’d single handedly brought down the mood. “Text me how much it costs, then text me again once you’re sure that you want in.”

She doesn’t even wait for you, doesn’t even look at you; she just turns on her heel and leaves. And for a moment, you sit there in awkward silence with Shin Yuna. You can’t help but feel bad for the poor girl who’d just been subjected to unwarranted coldness; and you want to comfort her, but you don’t know how. With a sigh, you take the straw out of your cup, bring the glass to your mouth and down the rest of your latte. Yuna’s eyes stayed trained on her own latte, which was close to untouched. She watches as a single drop of condensation rolls down the side of the glass, landing on her coaster and getting absorbed into the material. 

“The band’s… Not as bad as she makes it sound,” you pipe, pausing for a brief moment to consider your words carefully. “Yeji tends to be a little… Mean sometimes.” Now that she has her eyes on you, you can’t help but feel a little shifty in your seat. She’s the type of girl that turns heads when she walks down the street, the type of girl that could probably get scouted by a model agency just by standing at a bus stop and looking at her phone. Not that her gaze is piercing or anything, but it’s just that she’s a little too breathtaking to make you feel okay sitting opposite her in a one on one. “Don’t think too much about it. I think you’ll make a great fit in the band.”

And then you decide to leave. It’s with great embarrassment that you state that you should take your leave, and it’s with great clumsiness and lack of grace that you stand up, bump your knee against the table, mutter a small and push your chair in before making a beeline for the door. The bell on the door chimes as you pull the door open, and it chimes again when you step out, and again when you close the door shut behind you—almost like it was laughing at you. So much for not being awkward. 

“Thought you’d stay in there for a little longer.”

Hearing Yeji’s voice makes you jump, and you turn to find her petting the cat at the windowsill of the cafe. She isn’t even looking at you, not even a glance in your direction as you walk up to her and stop just before her. 

“What the hell was that in there?” you can’t help but question. “You make us sound like we’re a fucking concentration camp while simultaneously making her feel like shit. How the fuck do you even do that?”

She gives the cat one last scratch between the ears, and the feline purrs under her touch. She rises from her squatting position and looks you in the eye. “That’s why I brought you here: to make her feel better.” She lets that linger in the air for a bit. “Okay. I’m going home.”

And she walks right past you like you aren’t going to be traveling in the same direction as her. A grunt of frustration slips out of your lips as you turn and catch up with her, matching her pace step for step. 

“Did you seriously think,” you ask as you match her stride, “that a small ‘it’s alright’ from me would be enough to make her join?” 

“Yep.”

“You’re fucking unbelievable.”

“Same goes for you.”

“What?”

The two of you stop at the traffic light, and she takes the time to adjust her hair over her shoulder and crack her neck like there isn’t someone talking to her on her immediate left. At this point, you are as good as a ghost to her.

“Why can’t you just be nice for once?” you don’t bother hiding the aggression in your tone, nor did you ever intend on doing so. “Is it really that hard? Do we have to go through a trial to earn your kindness?”

The light turns green and she puts away her phone. “I’m only nice to the people I trust, and neither you nor Yuna fall into that category.”

You bite your tongue, and you stay where you are as she walks across the road. She doesn’t look back, and you never expected her to. This conversation is hardly worth your time and emotional battery. You’re better off talking to some moss ball behind a dumpster, and the silence that you’ll receive is more welcoming than anything Hwang Yeji will ever say.

And so you walk elsewither from where she’s going and you just walk. You know for a fact that there’s no point in fuming over her behavior, and there’s definitely no point in figuring out how to get to her. Instead, you walk down a stretch of shops, letting your eyes wander across the various items that are being displayed at the windows: the jewelry, the clothes, the facial products, the bags, the—

Someone calls your name, and her voice is all too familiar. You’ve heard it just recently, over the phone with club music blaring over her voice. So yeah: you don’t need to turn to know who's made you stop in your tracks, but you do just because you need to see it to believe it

Kim Minju looks dazzling in her outfit:a set of black and short shorts that cover up the skin that’s exposed beneath the shirt-dress she wears. The lime green knitted Prada bag she has in her hands is a little bit jarring, a tad out of place on her monochrome outfit, and you guess that she probably grabbed it in a rush to get out of the house. Still: it looks like a purposeful mismatch, and perhaps your sense of fashion is just so bland that you simply just can’t appreciate the complexity of her outfit.

“Hey,” she greets—a mix of shock and surprise and glee on her face as she takes small steps towards you. It isn’t that big of a distance to cross, and she’s right in front of you in two-to-three small steps. She stops for a moment, lets her eyes wander across your face for a bit. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

“Same goes for you,” you tell her. “Thought we’d just rub shoulders in the club and call it a day.”

Minju giggles, fidgets a little with the strap of her bag that sits nicely on her small shoulder. “You uh… you going somewhere?”

“Well um…” it’s hard to phrase what exactly it is you’re doing right now, because: a) you don’t exactly have a set location in mind and; b) you don’t know how to tell her that you were going away from somewhere that you were going to just now—ugh, it’s confusing to even think about. In the name of reducing the complications of your explanation, you opt for the best response you can possibly give at the moment: “No. Not really. How about you?”.

It’s not a lie; it’s half of the truth… Sort of? Ah fuck, why bother fretting over it?

She smiles, a toothless one where the corner of her lips gets tugged up by a set of invisible strings. It’s a charming little smile, and you have to admit that you love seeing the way it makes her eyes glimmer a little. “I just met my groupmates, and before you ask: it was a horrible session.”

You chuckle. “My condolences.” You rub your palms against your jeans as you speak, “must suck to be the smartest person in the group.”

She’s consistently been the brightest person in the room, perfect GPA, Valedictorian and everything. Sure: she already stands out because of her looks, but her smarts make her the whole package deal. The whole reason you met her in the first place was because you were failing Chemistry so badly in your first year that the teacher had to get her and her straight-As to step in and tutor you. She did a pretty good job, pulled your marks up from an E to a B and kept it there. 

“Oh shut up,” she sighs, though the smile on her face never fades, “you know I hate it when you say shit like that.”

“Do you? Could’ve sworn that you lived off compliments back then.”

She clicks her tongue in annoyance, slaps your shoulder with the back of her hand. She hasn’t changed one bit. “Fuck you. You always were too damn cheeky.”

You shrug in response. She pushes back a strand of hair.

“You wanna grab a coffee?” Her question is one you’ve expected from the moment you bumped into her. 

“I just had a latte, but I wouldn’t mind getting a Croissant.”

***

“You were one mark away from an A—this close to breaking your B streak.”

“It was an A in technicality. Careless mistakes that fuck me over don’t count, Minju.”

“Tell that to the Chemistry department then.”

“I think they would've dunked me in a vat of acid.”

“What type of Acid? Can you still remember which ones can melt skin off bone?”

“Welcome back Little Miss know-it-all.”

“The information will save you one day, mark my words.”

“Well I doubt I’ll ever come into contact with skin-melting Chemicals any time soon.”

“Don’t jinx yourself.”

“Hey, don’t tell me that when you were the one who was dubbed ‘bearer of bad news’.”

“It’s not my fault that I always have to relay the bad news to the class! I was the fucking class president!”

“Oh right.”

“Oh right. You sound so stupid.”

“Says the one giving me a lecture.”

“I’d hardly constitute this as a lecture.”

“Look at you using big words.”

“I’m going to throw this fucking coffee at you.”

“It’s a good latte. I wouldn’t recommend you wasting your money like that.”

“You’re a child.”

“Aren’t we all young at heart?”

“Young at heart is one thing. Immaturity is another.”

“I’d argue that you’re the immature one here.”

“Says the one who’s always getting himself involved in some shit every other day.”

“I wouldn’t blame that on my immaturity.”

“So you do admit that you’re immature.”

“Now you’re just putting words into my mouth.”

“It’s not my fault that you say stupid things.”

“But it’s you that uses my stupid things to… Fuck. That won’t sound right.”

“Did you just lose your train of thought mid sentence?”

“I was running what I was about to say through my head.”

“You do that while you speak? You’re so weird.”

“Oh so you’d rather me spit out nonsense all the time?”

“Yea, so I can insult you over it.”

“Ugh. You’re so kind Minju.”

“Thank you. I pride myself with my heart of gold.”

“The same one that made you a pushover with your ex?”

“We both know that he manipulated me.”

“And you kept making excuses with him because you refused to see the bad in him.”

“Okay, I admit that that was a bit of a misplay on my end.”

“You dated him for two years.”

“I didn’t want to be lonely, okay? Everyone in the damn friend group was dating, I felt left out!”

“But we were in healthy relationships. Yours looked like the physical embodiment of type two diabetes.”

“Oh. So you’d consider your relationship with Kim Chaewon a healthy one?”

“It was till… You know.”

The silence that follows is deafening, and Minju’s smile fades.

“Shit. I went a little overboard with that one,” how apologetic she sounded made you feel bad. Not that you ever intended to be a wet blanket, but the hesitance in your voice must have killed the mood or something. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

You waved it off. “All jokes,” you assure her with a forced smile. “Nothing was or has been taken to heart. I promise.”

She purses her lips, and when she parts them, they make a small smack. You take a moment to take another stab at your croissant and send another bit into your mouth. And yes: it does taste as good as it looks. 

“How are things with you and her anyway?” She asks, setting down her half-full glass of latte. “Are you guys doing alright? Talking now?”

You imagine the look of shock on her face when you tell her that you made out with your ex and fucked her after you took her home, and make the executive decision to skip the details and give her a more vague (and untrue)  answer: “We’re uh… Reconciling I guess.”

She nods, and you can’t tell if it’s one of approval or one of disappointment. She’d been the number one supporter of your relationship with Chaewon; imagine her shock when you told her one fine morning over the phone that the two of you had broken up.

“Forgive me for continuing on this subject, but,” the addition of that but really spoke volumes of how she wasn’t gonna let you interject, even if you really wanted to just stop talking about it. She’s not one to be self-centred, but when she has something to say, you have a guaranteed earnings if you bet on the fact that she’ll get it out one way or another. You always let her get away with it, only because you have a bit of a soft spot for her, and she has a bit of a soft spot for you too—you did spend a large amount of time in your first year of highschool in the library with her after all. “I always thought that you and Chaewon would be, you know, a ‘forever couple’.”

“Well I’m sorry we ruined your drama fantasies,” you reply, trying to bring the conversation back to the light-hearted talk it was just a couple of minutes ago. “Some things just don’t work out in the end—the relationship was just one of those things.”

This time, you decode her nod as one of understanding and sympathy. “Well… As long as you’re okay now.” she rolls her straw between her forefinger and thumb, watching as it twists left and right in her fingers and disturbs the latte before her. “You seem to be doing well with your whole band gig and all.”

“You could say that.” You set down your fork and dab the corners of your mouth with a napkin while you swallow the rest of your croissant. “Chaewon and I will learn to… Coexist eventually. I hope so at least.”

“You guys better sort it out,” she muses. “I doubt I can keep baby-sitting her at the club for much longer. I have a life too, you know?”

“I feel like that’s more of a problem for her to settle than us.” you’re barely hiding the disdain in your voice as you stare at crumbs that are left on your plate. “It’s not my problem if she gets drunk. She made the choice to go drinking herself.”

“But you made it your problem just a day ago,” Minju points out. 

“Only because it was the only way to get her out of that damn club.”

“You could’ve chosen not to come.”

“And leave you guys to deal with her?”

“It was me and Eunbi. We could’ve dragged her out.”

“But—“

“Just admit that you actually cared. You and I both know that you’re too much of a fucking sweetheart to ever let someone struggle when you can help.”

And she stumps you with that one, because you don’t know how to reply to that. Is that a compliment or an insult? Frankly, you didn’t know, but you do know that you’re surprised by the fact that anyone can ever use the word sweetheart in such an aggressive manner. It’s like telling someone you love their outfit before punching them in the face. 

Okay, maybe not that extreme… But you get the gist.

“Maybe I did have a soft spot for her,” you mused. It’s half self-realisation, half-reply. “But even so: you guys would go through all nine circles of hell just to get her up and out of the club.”

Minju draws her lips into a thin line. She lifts her straw to her mouth, lets it hover just in front of her lips for a bit, then places the glass back down on the table heavily. A small, substantial thump sends a small tremor through the table. She stares into her glass. “What even happened when you took her home anyway?”

You shrug and put down your fork to wipe your mouth—actions that mask the fact that you want to cringe at yourself over what happened. You’ve done a lot of lying today (what would your mother say?), and you’re pretty sure that all of this will come back and bite you in the ass some day. But for now, you’d like to save yourself some embarrassment as you say, “Helped her with her hangover. Gave her a meal. Then she left.”

Minju looks at you for a moment. Then she sighs and shakes her head.

“You’re too kind for your own good,” she mutters. Her fingers stay wrapped around her glass as she speaks, beads of condensation slowly running down the clear walls of her cup and sliding down her knuckles. She raises her head, just enough to establish eye contact with you. “Then again: your soft little heart was the reason I had a crush on you.”

Okay. She skipped a lot of ground there.

You blink. You blink again. She stares straight into your eyes throughout—doesn’t break eye contact or anything. Not that you didn’t take her seriously, but just that you were a little… Well, stunned.

“Bottom line: you care about her. Don’t let her manipulate you okay?” Minju tells you, finally raising the star to her mouth and taking a nice long sip from her latte. When the straw is released from between her lips, she smacks her lips in satisfaction and leans back in her seat. You’re still staring if anyone’s asking, and yes: you are indeed thinking, what the fuck?

Minju shoots you a look of disdain. “What?” she asks as she straightens the collar of her shirt dress. “Why are you looking at me like that? Cut it out.”

Okay: aside from the fact that you’re shocked by the fact that she isn’t addressing the elephant in the room (the one that she placed there by her damn self), you’re reeling over the fact that she’s just casually dropped this hell-of-a piece of news on you like it was just an update on life or something; oh I used to like, you know, see you more than just a friend, but no biggie.

You blink. You blink again. She grabs the straw and tosses it out of the glass, gulps the rest of her latte in a single swallow and wipes her lips with the back of her hand. 

“If you’re wondering if the feelings are still there, the answer is no,” she tells you, picking up a napkin to clean up the corners of her mouth. “The keyword was had you big dummy. Stop thinking so much about it. You look stupid.”

The faculties to reply return to you, but you can’t do much but sputter a very confused wha? as Minju examines her nails for a bit. She smirks, then grabs her bag and rises from her seat. 

“If my news is killing you that bad, why don’t we talk about it over a nice dinner?”

***

True to her word, she does open up about everything over the course of the meal, albeit after a couple of glasses of wine.

“You were so cute and so damn loveable,” she muses, unashamed as she pours herself another glass. She took you to some nice restaurant a few streets away, and you’re kinda regretting your decision to eat that croissant for tea because fuck does the food here taste good. Minju settles into her seat, glass in hand as she stares at the scarlet liquid. “You bought me dark chocolate on my period, got me a snack after we had a session because I was hungry… You’re pretty fucking handsome too, you know that?”

All of this is, of course, news to you, and you���re struggling to internalise the fact that she would ever think about you in such a way. Your own wine glass has remained full for the entire duration of your meal, and you choose this time to take a sip to help you process all of… Well, this. 

“So… How long did you, you know, like me?” you can’t help but ask. Not that it was the first question on your mind or anything, but more of the fact that you needed to say something to prevent this conversation from descending into awkward silence. Comfortable was the last word you’d use to describe how you feel. 

“Huh…” Minju mutters. She swirls her glass for a bit. She takes a sip, swirls more. Her gaze turns inwards and her mouth moves in a soundless count. “If you don’t count the summer break where I figured out that I wanted nothing more but to kiss you? About a year and a half.”

You do the maths in your head and come to an epiphany. Minju beats you to it and verbalises your thoughts: yea, yea… I liked you while you were dating Chaewon, which means that I liked you when I was dating that deadbeat baseball player, which meant I was unfaithful by technicality, but I stuck with that sick fuck to try and make you jealous.

Frankly, you’re not too sure why you are being thrown into emotional situations with people of your past over the course of the last two days. You want this to be some sort of dream, and you want, so badly, for Minju to burst out laughing and hit you with a, this was all a joke! I just wanted you to accompany me for dinner, that’s all, and call it a day. Maybe you two could get ice cream afterwards, laugh this silly prank off on a bench somewhere and then bid farewell for the night. But judging from the way Minju stares solemnly at her plate, you can pretty much infer with full confidence that she means every word she says. Even as she chews her steak slowly, you can feel her lingering on some thoughts that she won’t verbalise—not now at least. Maybe she’ll text you about it a couple weeks for months down the road, and all of this will just resurface for, like, a day or two at most. Bottom line: she’s pretty serious about everything she just said, and she’ll most likely remind you of this conversation in this nice restaurant that you can never come back to again. The food is nice but it's nowhere in your tax bracket. 

“So uh,” Minju brings your attention back to her. She leaves you hanging for a bit as she pokes a cherry tomato with her fork and sends it into her mouth. You hear a soft crunch as she chews, and you can’t help but feel a little bit uncomfortable with the presented silence that follows. She dabs the corners of her lips with a napkin. She swallows. “About what happened with Chaewon after you took her to your place: did you leave out the part where you fucked her in the ass on purpose? Or did she drug you and you forgot everything?”

And it feels like time freezes as she picks up her wine glass and gulps down the rest of the scarlet liquid in there. When she looks at you with those piercing, knowing eyes, you wonder how much she knows about you and Chaewon; what does she know and what are the details she has sitting in some locker in the corners of her mind. 

“Chaewon has a pretty big mouth you know,” Minju remarks, a small—almost mocking—pout on her lips as she plays with the vegetables on her plate. “She tells me just about anything and everything that goes on in her life, just saying.”

So that’s enough to tell you that she knows more than she should. You wonder if there are any other people Chaewon runs her mouth to.

“If you’re gonna call me a loser, just do it,” you mutter. You suddenly find the urge to down the rest of your wind irresistible. You act on your impulse, and you grimace a little as the alcohol burns your throat on the way down. It’s probably not recommended to consume liquor the way you are drinking it right now, but you couldn’t care less at this point. You kind of need this drink right now. This day has been full of unexpected things: unexpected meetings to unexpected feelings to god knows what else is on its way. “But before you say anything, she started it. I was the victim.”

Minju chuckles. You don;t really find anything about this entertaining right now, but there will certainly be an element of humour to this conversation that you will probably discover after some hindsight. Minju sets down her cutlery and folds her arms. “I understand”, she tells you, making sure to hold your gaze as she rests her cheek in her palm. “Trust me. Calling you a loser is, like, the 2nd thing on my mind right now.”

“And what’s the first?”

She looks left, then right, then leans in a little. “Was the sex good?”

Honestly, you shouldn’t be shocked. She’s always been a bit cheeky in nature, a little bit lickerish and maybe a little indecent. You’ve seen it, heard it, known it for the longest time—yet you can’t stop yourself from raising both eyebrows when she drops the question on you. MAybe it’s the lack of hesitance; the question coming right at you like a fastball after you gave her your end of the situation. It’s a little devious: the way she just gives it to you straight without any room for silence and pondering. You’ll give her that.

“I mean,” she continues, not even giving you time to even try and rationalise the question. “I imagine that her pussy’s already tight as fuck. Her ass? God I can only imagine what that was like for you.”

Now it’s getting a little confusing. The lines between wry and genuine interest are being blurred here, and you’re not even sure if this is really a conversation you’re having with her right now. Her bluntness and lack of consideration towards you is a little appalling given her remorse in the cafe. Maybe it’s the wine. Yea, it’s probably the wine…

“What the fuck?” Is all you can manage as you affix your gaze on her with a look of shock that could probably win you an award if this was a movie. Minju pushes back some hair, fingers deftly tucking them behind her ear as she fixes you with a look. You have no idea where this conversation is going, and you really, really hope that she doesn’t continue on this line of talk. Of course, you have a bad track record of getting what you wish for. 

Minju leans in even more, gets even closer. You’re not sure if you should move or do anything at this juncture. She cocks her head a little, smirks.

“Wanna find out if I’m a better fuck then her?”

***

Why did you follow her back to her apartment? You don’t even know. Best guess: you weren’t really thinking after she spoke and just went with it. Or maybe: you might have looked at her all weird and somehow ended up agreeing (she’s a sweet talker and you certainly wouldn’t put it past her). There are about ten possibilities that you can think of—eleven if you added the one that just formulated in your brain about a second ago—all of which are equally confusing and hard to fathom. It’ll take some time and probably a cup of coffee or two to figure out.

But focus up: there are a lot more pressing matters right now, matters like the fact that her lips are firmly pressed against yours while your back is against the closed and locked door of her apartment. Frankly, you don’t even know how the hell you two got locked in this kiss; could’ve sworn the two of you were just talking at the restaurant a couple of minutes ago. Everything’s a little hazy, and it’s a little worrying considering that you only had one or two… Maybe three? Yea, probably three… Let’s just say there was a couple more glasses of wine after she asked if you if she could potentially be a better fuck, and here you are now. It seems like your relationship with alcohol and women all lead to the same destination. It’s a problem for sure, but you can settle that later. 

There’s a rather loud smack as she removes her lips from yours—for air of course. Gazing deep into your eyes, she smiles as she tells you, god I’ve always wanted to do that, before she re-establishes the connection of lips. The kiss is aggressive: nothing short of fervent and definitely not holding back on the restraint. If there was a way to properly kiss someone, Kim Minju was certainly taking it up another step. Her tongue pokes through your lips, invades past your teeth and pushes itself deep into your mouth till it dances with yours. It’s starting to get a little messy, a little more raunchy and, uh… Well—you get the gist. Your brain’s certainly not functioning the way it should be. 

Are you drunk? Probably not.

She starts to pull you by the shirt—away from the door and towards the living room. Her place is pretty big, and there's enough space for the two of you to stumble and fumble around till you find a flat surface that you can proper her up on and spread her legs. The surface in question is a table. It’s probably her dining table, and it creaks as Minju undoes the clasp of her sheer shorts that really shouldn’t be classified as shorts in any world. The article of clothing comes off together with your jeans, and they’re both tossed aside before your hands are on her hips and pulling her towards you. Her ass slides over the wood, hissing as her skin drags along a small distance so that she can grip your face in her palms and crash her lips against yours. You close your eyes, enjoy the feel of her warm body pressing against yours while those gentle hands sink fingers into the flesh of your cheeks. A dark part of you takes a little pleasure in the pain.

“Fuck.” You love the lilt in her voice after she breaks the kiss. “I see why Chaewon likes to kiss you now,” she lets her hands roam across your face, brushing away the bits of your hair that fall in front of your eyes, almost as if she wants you to see her and only her. “You kiss so well. Feels like I’m kissing a marshmallow with lips.”

“Do I even want to know how you came up with that analogy?” you question. She grins.

“Just trust it. I did get a higher score than you in just about every subject except music.”

You chuckle. She goes in for a kiss; you make a beeline for the column of milky skin at her neck, savour the sharp inhale that sucks air through her teeth and sounds like more of a hiss. You kiss her jaw, trail it up to her neck then back down to her collarbone. Every touch of your lips on her skin makes her sigh.

“Try not to mark me where people can see,” she whispers. “There’s only so much skin that makeup can cover without ruining my outfits, and foundation is really fucking expensive these days.”

(Now there’s the debate of whether that was a challenge or a precautionary measure. She’s always been a bit of a cheeky one: trying people on and giggling as she does so. You’ve been the victim of her antics before, but it’s kind of hard to deduce whether she’s telling you, don’t do it or inviting you to leave hickeys all over her neck and wherever you could get your lips on.)

“And if I do?” you can’t help but ask. Minju chuckles and pushes you away by your shoulders.

“Don’t.” She’s firm when she says it, almost like she’s chiding you for ever considering it. For a moment, you look each other in the eye as your breaths poke holes through the silence. It’s a little chilling yet a little thrilling, and you can’t help but take in the way she looks in the dim light of the night. In the midst of stumbling in, neither of you ever considered turning on the lights. She’s painted in soft strokes of moonlight, eyes shimmering in the gentle glow of night. Beautiful. She’s always been so beautiful, but never this beautiful. “I know you want to, but don’t,” she reiterates. You’re a little disappointed, but there are, of course, other ways to leave your mark on her.  

And so your hand snakes down and finds its way between her parted legs. Your other hand slithers around that small waist, and it holds her in place as your fingers press against the fabric of her panties. In your arms, she tenses—bristles as you start to feel the outline of her lips against your fingertips. You increase the pressure against her heat. Minju tilts her head back and moans.

Fuck. You don’t think you’ve ever heard such a sound: angelically filthy, airy and soft. It’s already hard enough to grasp the concept of her, one of your closest friends that you haven’t seen in a few good years or so, propped up on her own dining table while you trace the outline of her pussy through her panties and leave her squirming atop the wooden surface. Add the small choked up cries she’s making into the mix and by God do you have a recipe for a haze. Where to begin? This situation shouldn’t be real at all; none of this should be real, this should be a dream. This heat against your fingers. The sight of her mouth parted and her body twitching with each stroke of your fingers. The very realisation that this is as real as it gets, and it’s unfolding right before you by the second.

“Why are you so fucking wet?” you ask, noting the way she shudders as you let your finger hover over the base of her opening for a bit. Her thighs—pale skin painted in the lightest shades of moonlight—twitch in anticipation, almost as if the blood in her veins is loading up inside there and would shoot forward the moment you start moving again. She can’t predict what you’re gonna do next, and it’s killing her in a way that brings you this sick satisfaction. Minju whimpers; you chuckle. “Do you really want it this bad Minju? Has no one touched you like this before?”

(Her bottom lip quivers as she struggles to compose herself. She breathes: raspy and staccato. Strands of hair hang in front of her face, the same one that has this pleading look superimposed over bratty frustration. It’s hot, really satisfying and really challenging you take some liberties with her. Sure: it’d be really fun to just stuff her full of cock and just have your way with her right here and now, but where’s the fun in that? You’ve known her as this smart, preppy girl who’s always gotten what she wants because she’s smart and rich. You can't remember the last time you saw her fail. Maybe she did face a bit of a setback when she was starting out in university, but as far as you’re concerned, she’s in need of a bit of humbling.)

It’s all enough to drive anyone mad really. So you can’t really blame her when she cries oh god just fuck me already! at a volume that would probably get her a noise complaint from one of her neighbours. It’s a little jarring, and it makes you stop and look at her for a second or two. She looks back at you, giving you those fuck me eyes that you didn’t know she was capable of as she starts to bite down on her lower lip. 

With that face and that aura, she—whether unwittingly or not—painfully reminds you of Chaewon. That same bratty persona mixed with that undeniable look of need—it’s killing you to look her in the eye a she starts to grind herself against your fingers, pleading you to get on with it—please, please, please just strip me and fuck me and make me your good little toy—while she fixes you with that pleading look. Her doleful eyes coax you, and it feels dangerous to even look into them, let alone gaze into them as pulls you closer with her legs and grabs your shaft through your underwear.

“Tease me all you want later,” she squeezes your cock—sweet, sinful pleasure. Those weapons of a pair of eyes slice into the deepest depths of your mind, appealing to the darker part of you to let loose and take control. She wants it, needs it more than anything else right now. “You can finger me, eat me, whatever… Just put this fucking cock inside of me and make me scream before you do anything else.”

She’s given you a list of priorities, and they really speak volumes of her personality. Funnily enough, it’s pretty in line with her character: goal oriented and focused on that success rather than the process. You wonder what would happen if you refused to give her that final goal she so desperately craves; what it could do and to what extent would it break her. You take some time to consider this as you slip your hands into the spaces between the upper buttons of her shirt.

“Minju.” You call her name out of politeness in wake of what you’re about to ask her. “How much was this shirt?”

The glint in her eye when she catches your implicit message is enthralling. She pushes her bottom lip behind her front teeth; fixes you with this look that tells you that she's' about to say something that’s gonna satisfy your desires just because she can and she gets off on it.

“It’s Prada,” she tells you. “But I can always get another.”

You grin, and with more strength than intended, you pull against the fabric of the shirt. Unfortunate buttons go flying as the fabric parts forcefully like velcro ripping apart. Nothing tears (surprisingly), but the shirt is most definitely unwearable for a while. You hope she knows how to sow.

She gasps when the cold air of her apartment suddenly hits her skin. You can’t really blame her — it all comes in a rush after she is stripped from her sole piece of clothing. She takes a moment to assess the damage done to her clothes. Her eyes wander along the naked strip of fabric her shirt buttons once called home. Then she looks at you, smirks.

“Hot,” she muses, lowering herself down till she’s on her elbows. “But I think you can do better than that.”

You like a good challenge. And with not too much kindness in your voice, you tell her to get rid of the rest of her clothing. There’s a smouldering look in her eye, and a smirk on her face as she tosses her hair out of her face. Then while she holds your gaze, she hooks her fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulls them down — keeps going till there somewhere far enough down those long, creamy legs for her to kick them aside. 

“That was a limited edition piece, can’t have you tearing that,” she explains, looking at the freshly discarded article of clothing. “My bra though? I got it at a convenience store in Japan. Do your worst.”

The bra doesn’t survive. It’s a shame really… It looked kinda nice. 

And basking in your gaze is a very naked Kim Minju, her skin practically glowing on top of her table as she looks up at you with those eyes of want. You take a moment – admire the supple curves in all the right places and the way her skin seems to ripple a little as she shudders. Three’s no doubt in your mind that the surface she has her back against is cold as hell, but  Fuck… this probably was the best place to have her like this – she looks like a fucking meal.

“You know,” you whisper, your index finger roaming up her body – starting from the base of her belly button and making its way up an imaginary line that you’ve drawn on her body. “You’re kinda fucking perfect.”

She chortles. “Um… Contradictory much?”

“Spare me the lesson,” you mutter, cupping her cheek firmly yet tenderly. You have no idea what this feeling in your chest is right now, but you do know that it’s gonna take you down a path you never explored before. “Now I just wanna make a mess out of you.”

You don’t wait for a reply. Heck, you don’t even give her time to craft a reply. No teasing, no testing the waters; you just get your cock in your hand, line it up with her slit and pump yourself into her for the first time.

And even though she has this look of offence on her face, you know that this is probably the hottest thing she’s ever experienced. It’s a non-verbal statement that tells you that: her eyes burn with a heat you often see in Chaewon when she’s just being a downright bitch, yet her lips part and her head tilts back to let a moan be drawn out from the deepest parts of her. You don’t quite know how you’re processing these cues with the novel sensation of her hot cunt around your cock (it squeezes and pulses at just the right places that make you twitch inside her and it’s like… So fucking hot in there) that welcomes you into the depths of the woman beneath you. Every little thing is just hitting like a fucking sledge hammer now. You can feel her heat around you, burning like fire in this cold apartment. Alcohol must really be setting in.

Minju takes a moment to collect herself, and after she does, she looks at you to send another non-verbal cue your way. 

This one means fuck me.

This whole situation is far from sophisticated; a little more filthy than you care to admit. It’s not what you’re used to with the other women you’ve been with. Eunbi likes teasing, Ryujin likes to play around a little; Karina is just downright submissive, Yeji a little more subservient than she lets on; Chaewon is… well, Chaewon – bratty and really whiny when she fucks.

But Minju? This is a whole new chapter for you. 

First impressions tell you that she’s just downright needy; a little bratty like Chaewon as she starts to whine a little while you start pumping in and out of her slick heat. Her legs lock around your waist, feet crossed behind your back. She pulls you in each time you thrust into her – pulls you deeper into her warmth and moans a little louder when you hit the right spot. You match her speed, and soon you're thrusting her with firm, fast strokes. It makes her throw back her head for a bit, a cry leaving her straining throat as she sets rolls with this tempo.

Her torso remains supported on her elbows, her small breasts that sit proudly atop her chest bouncing with each smack of your crotch against hers. She realigns her gaze with yours. Her eyes stay wide open, gazing right into yours as she holds your attention with this debauched gaze that makes your mind fill with wild, wild thoughts. You’re fucking her on the table, but you’re thinking about what it’d be like to have her against the wall, against the counter, on her knees; riding you on her couch, jumping on your cock on her bed…  

This woman is gonna fucking ruin you.

“Chaewon said that the dick was fucking good,” she’s quipping between her moans, and you know it’s taking considerable effort for her. She has to close her eyes when she speaks, and in doing so she frees you from her hypnotic gaze. “No that it’s actually filling me… I think she could be downplaying how good you feel.”

And you have to smirk. “You think so ?”

Her eyes snap open, traps you yet again. “Do you have any idea how fucking hot you feel inside me?” she gasps. You have to admit that it sounds a bit more like she’s demanding you to figure out how good she feels right now/ ow fucking good your dick feels in my pussy? How–ngh… How good you fuck me?”

Emphasis on ‘fuck’ tells you that she likes this pace, this no-nonsense playing field that you’ve established from the moment you filled her for the first time. She never struck you as one to like it rough, someone who likes it when it kinda stings when you fill her. Then again, you didn’t expect her to hold feelings for you either, so you guess the world just has a bunch of mysteries that you have to unpack in your own time.

Currently, you’re just trying to unpack how fucking good she feels around you.

“You’re fucking filthy,” you hiss through your teeth. “Never knew Miss valedictorian liked being railed like this.”

She smiles through her pleasure – a half-curl upturn of the corners of her lips as she lets the sighs and gasps freely depart from her open lips. It would be a cute smile if it weren’t for the fact that you’re literally fucking her on the same surface she eats on. Not that she has any problem with it; it’s just kinda telling of how badly she wants you right now. Pretty hot honestly – feels a little dark but you like the fact that she just couldn’t wait and just found the nearest flat surface she could spread her legs for you on.

“I’ll let you in on something,” and it really looks like she’s pushing back moans in her throat. She isn’t very successful. Effort is commendable though. “As sweet as any girl looks, we all kinda like being fucked like a slut.”

You manage a chuckle. “And does that apply for you?”

You love the way her eyes gleam. She lets herself lie flat on her table. 

“That’s for you to find out.”

And you understand why she’s laid herself across the table for you. It’s an invitation to her body, a request for you to touch the parts of her and hold her like she’s yours. She’s watching you intently, waiting to see what you’ll do while you keep pumping in and out of her. You respond by grabbing her shoulders, pulling her up straight till her chest flushes against yours. Her hands wrap around your neck, her breath in your ear.

“Come on you pussy,” she drawls. “I’m not Chaewon or Eunbi, so stop fucking me like you’d fuck them.”

Your hands find purchase in the firm flesh of her ass. Your fingers dig into the skin.

Then you’re fucking her – hard, fast. It takes her by surprise, by storm. Her gasp is strained, her voice louder in your ear now that she’s dug her chin into your shoulder. Her arms tense around your neck, her thighs tighten around your waist. You can feel her start to tremble as she struggles to keep herself upright. She holds you tighter, closer. She starts to moan more than she gasps. Her sighs turn to whines, her whines to cries and then to keening. 

In a matter of seconds, she’s found herself lost in her own pleasure, willingly and blissfully letting herself slink beneath the steadily growing stream of perverse want and need that flows from her mouth. She doesn’t have any smart quips left in her, no lessons or lectures – just this burning ache for you and the meat between her legs. You can feel the throbbing in her pussy, hear the squelch of your cock sliding between her lips getting louder as you go faster. You want—so badly—to lose yourself in her warmth and her heat. You want nothing more than to just put your lips on hers and kiss her through this wave of passion you’re feeling. 

So—against her wishes—you put your lips on her neck, starting sucking. You sense hesitation in her body, but it quickly fades and she tips her head to the side. She lets you have your way with her, relenting against you and letting you nibble on her skin as you piston yourself in and out of her. 

“I hope you’re giving me something no other girl will experience,” she rasps. She’s shaking a little, her nails starting to dig into your back. “Fuck me like I’m the one that matters. I need it.”

You lift your lips off her neck. The skin is starting to change colour. “Minju,” you don’t know how you manage, but you just do. “You’re the best woman I’ll ever fuck.”

“Mhm?” she hums. It’s a little shaky and it’s high-key hot. “Is—mphm… is my pussy better than Chaewon’s?”

And there’s that common thread between her and your ex: that desire to know that they’re better than someone else. You’ll please her for tonight. “So much better.”

She quite literally twitches at that, reeling in the thought that she’s taking cock better than her friend ever would. “Ngh– am I tighter? Am I wetter?”

You move so that you can look her in the eye. “Shut up and let me fuck you, would you?”

The look in her eyes tells you that she’s proud of what she’s done. She lets her forehead press against yours. Her eyes close. “Okay… But only because I still kinda love you.”

How are you going to deal with her? With this?

You don’t. You dive back into the crook of her neck, lengthen your strokes into her. It’s all too much to handle right now. Too many emotions are in play; too many thoughts need attention. You just want her, no strings attached and no need to spout all this nonsense about love and wanting to be loved. You kinda hate her for it, so you fuck her harder. You don’t like that she’s bringing feelings into this like Chaewon, so you fuck her harder and harder till she’s almost crying. 

She loves it, every second of it.

“Yes,yes,yes…” you can tell that she’s trying not to lose it all together, or maybe you’re just projecting. You can’t shake the feeling that your silence in response to her confession tells her that you’re gonna let her live this fantasy down right now. “Oh god you… Oh my fucking god.”

For long minutes, there’s nothing on your mind except her. You love the way she tenses and relaxes in your grasp, how she lets her body respond freely to your movements; the way her milky, smooth skin starts to bead with sweat, her hair sticking to her back; how her voice is kinda hoarse, how her lips claim your earlobe and she bites a little. As much as she’s frustrating, she’s entrancing. She’s hot, admittedly tighter than some of the girls you’ve fucked but also charming in her own way. Her moans aren’t the guttural type you get out of Karina or Eunbi, but more like a gentle yet kinda sordid exclamation of pleasure. Her breath is hot on your skin, a little hotter than you expect, but hot nonetheless. Her slim figure rocks against you, jolting when you get yourself nice and deep in her cunt, turning her into a nice bundle of nerves.

“I… Fuck… I’ve wanted this for so long,” she gasps. “But you’re here, actually here and… Fuck you’re just so fucking hot.”

And you know that’s her way of telling you that you’re better in real life than you ever will be in her wildest dreams. She’s turned on by the fact that you’re here, in the flesh and fucking her the way she likes it. Even though she surrenders to you, she’s gotten her way tonight. You’re fulfilling her desires just by being here, and your rock hard shaft drilling its way inside of her is really just a cherry on top.

(She’s kinda right: as sweet as she is, she likes being fucked like a slut.)

Even though it’s kinda her fault, Minju is your distraction, your break from it all. You give in: lose yourself in her smell, in her skin, in her flesh.  You let yourself get absorbed in it all — her gasps, her cries; the way her pussy only gets tighter, the way her legs shake around you; the fire in your chest that drives your cock in and out of her cunt in firm, long strokes; the heat of her body against yours as she starts to tense in your grasp.

Then she’s cumming — a hot mess on her dining table as cock spears into her through her orgasm. Her walls clench around you, her nails claw at your back. She cries your name. She says she loves you over and over and over till the faculties of her speech give way and she goes a little slack in your arms. You revel in it, do your best to block out the parts that make you ache a little on the inside; fuck her through the wave of an orgasm she goes through and relish the feel of her tight pussy getting tighter and wetter. You don’t know how to put it into words, but all you can really say is that she’s fucking beautiful through it all – smutty art or maybe even straight up porn. 

When you join her, you don’t even ask if you can cum in her; she’s gotten enough of her way tonight. With a final few pumps into her, you relent to the tingling in your shaft and bury yourself inside her. Your grunt is rather guttural, your load hot inside of her slick wet cunt. She sighs, almost as if she’s welcoming it into her body. You savour the moment. It’s a treat for yourself. 

You stay like that for a bit — leaning against Minju and panting while you gather yourself again. She gently strokes your hair as she smiles at you, more than happy to keep you with her as you regain your bearings. 

And just because she can, she kisses you on the cheek.

You can’t meet her gaze much longer. You turn your gaze downwards as you remove yourself from her pussy, watching as the mix of your juices flow out of her freshly-fucked cunt. She hums as it flows down from her slit. 

“Forget what I said okay?” she requests, sounding remorseful as she takes your cheek in her hand. “You’re good at not taking things to heart, so do that for me, would you?”

You manage a small smile and nod. 

Then she kisses you, softly. 

“Thank you…” she breathes. “You just helped me delete some emails to you that I can never bring myself to send.”

***

You’re kinda in shambles to be honest.

Minju’s showering, which means that you have enough time to think about what your life has become. All these emotions are coming forth so suddenly, so quickly. You barely have time to process your school work and now this has come along and fucked you sideways. It makes your head hurt.

You decide to leave before she can get out of the shower. You can’t bear to see her again, but you do drop a text—Thanks for letting me crash. See you around—once you’re out of her apartment complex. You’re ashamed, but you were raised to know better than to leave without saying anything. But even though you do what you feel is right, something about what you’ve done doesn’t quite sit well with you. 

And you’re in the park when the realisation hits. On the bench, you bury your head in your hands.

You’ve done to Minju what Chaewon did to you.

Had this one sitting in the drafts for quit some time. Realised I actually never posted it so here it is I guess. Happy New Year everyone! Have this unedited work as a gift while I work on another fic because I can.

[itsgivingmami]

One bed trope? Plus hear me out…reader has a nightmare

31- Rhea Ripley

Sorry this took actual years, was slacking for holidays😅 she’s a long one troops. I wish thee luck. Comments, notes and reblong always appreciated

   “your sweet speaking and lovely laughing—oh it

puts the heart in my chest on wings for when I look at you, a moment, then no speaking is left in me”

Rhea fucking loathed Canada. Going up to cross the border always instilled an overwhelming dread and irritation any time of the year, but especially bloody winter. Snow the first couple times not having it growing up was magical, until she came to realise that it freezes your hair and your never really comfortable in a winter jacket just cold but somehow sweaty at the same time. To this day she fails to understand why anyone would revel in living inside a fucking ice cube for months at a time.

    Her feet felt wet in her boots as she over heated in the smallest hotel lobby she's ever seen, in its defence it may be the crowd of wrestlers and crew packed into the small space of this- where even the fuck were they? Her eyes glanced to you to ask but seeing your furrowed brow staring at your phone made her pause.

    "All good?" Nothing about this is really great, but at least they're safe. They had emergency landed at the nearest available runway to combat the incoming storm and though she doesn't mean it; she considers braving that more appealing than being stuffed into a room with a random person from the company.

       "Trying to get you a refund for the other hotel," She wants to tell you not to worry about it, she'd hardly notice the charge anyhow but doesn't want to come off like she's show boating her wealth and allows you to continue to do, well, your job.

    "Apparently we're all grouping up," she hears from somewhere and signs in relief at least bringing her assistant with her guaranteed she wouldn't be with a stranger. She let out a yawn, eyes watering as she scanned the room. Her colleagues look the same as her, exhausted, ready to lay down and not super excited about the situation they'd ended up in.

    The next hour is a blur of shuffling and key distribution, it's nearly one in the morning by the time someone hands her a key card. You're next to her on the love seat with your knees pulled up resting your head on a hand, eyes closed.

    "Hey," she gently touches your knee and your dark eyes flutter open, Rhea feels bad waking you but if you two can at least get to a room she knows you'll be comfier. She's recently hired you as a personal assistant and with the recent travel stretch she could see the new experience taking its toll. She finds seeing you tired harder than she expected but ignores the way her chest tightens "We've got a room,"

    "Oh sorry," you quickly throw out and she shakes her head, you'd been constantly apologetic since your first day. It was something she'd learned was just a habit and focused on the fact that you'd seemed to finally stop calling her ma'am and celebrated that small victory. "Didn't even realise I'd dozed off," Rhea grabs the strap of your bag from the small coffee table as you lift your glasses onto your head and rub your eyes.

    "We've been awake for too long we should both be dozing," Rhea answers quickly as you go to mention your bag and turns towards the hallway. You take some faster steps to catch up with her long stride along the awful pattern carpet, the amber lights illuminating the way until finding yourselves in front of a chipping burgundy door. She slides the key into the lock and it changes from red to green with an echoed click. Rhea pushes the handle and the door swings open, her eyes look for a chair to place your bags on but her gaze stops on the middle of the room where a single queen size mattress sits. "Bloody hell," Rhea swears under her breath, you come in the room behind her, you both stare at the bed in silence.

     "I'll take the fl-" you stop mid sentence as Rhea stares at you, despite working for her over a month now you still found her in ring and out of ring personality lines blurry. You'd seen first hand what she could do angry in the ring and had made it your soul mission to make sure you'd never make her upset.

     "We can share I'm not that high maintenance," Rhea explains and chuckles which does little ease the tension weighing down around you both. "If I ever get that far up my own ass you oughta punch me,"

"That definitely seems like a breech of my contract," you joke back with an airy giggle. Did you have to keep bringing that up? The fact that she was technically your boss as she definitely she not be having certain types of thoughts about you in general.

"You should grab a shower first, get rid of any left over chill," Rhea tells you keeping her back turned as she drops tour bags onto the end of the bed. The only bed. You want to offer it back, she does have a match but she gives you that stare again. It's overwhelming but comforting, the way she refuses to put herself over you.

   "I won't be long," you assure you and she smiles tightly at you and you practically sprint into the room and shut the door.

    "Take your time," Rhea answers to the empty room, hers legs giving out as she sits on the bed. She hears the pipes squeak as the water turns on and she finally relaxes for a moment. Mentally her chastising herself that she needed to get it together if she was going to make it through this.

     Rhea thought she was used to this feeling by now. She had seen your face or heard your voice every single day for the last thirty days and each time it happened was a test of patience, a lesson in self control and slowly it had been getting easier. Or well, she thought so. Maybe it was the setting, an older hotel with soft lighting. An eye to the snow storm in this god awful country. Maybe it was the fact that the whipping winds outside and blowing snow make this feel separate from the real world. The world where you're only her assistant, the world where she has to get up for the gym in six hours, the world where she's unsure.

   She huffs and stands back up walking away towards the window before turning and staring at the mattress. Was it getting smaller? Her strong hands rake through her hair, no longer bothering to keep let fringe styled forward, she unpacks her phone charger and something to change into ignoring the pit in her stomach and the voice screaming that no matter how normal she tried to make this, it was definitely something new.

"Rhea?" Her inner turmoil is cut off when you call her and she spins around quickly. Confusion painting her face as she stares at the cracked bathroom door, light and steam coming through, "I- Uh, could you pass my bag please?"

Oh. OH. She froze for a second as her brain caught up and moved to grab your bag which was sure enough left behind on the bed. She lands a foot from the door,

"I've got it here," she watches as you peek around the door, wet hair pushed over on shoulder, water droplets shining in the light on your face.

"Thanks," you murmur staring up at her and quietly slink back behind the door. Rhea stands in place watching the air where you just were and swallows thickly. That confirms it, she's screwed.

You're feeling a similar way when your left alone in the room, barely having said more than a sentence to Rhea as you'd traded to embarrassed that she had seen you in a towel and more embarrassed by the fact that you wouldn't mind showing her more. The thoughts pop up before you can stop them placing the blame on the jet lag but deep down you know it had nothing to do with it. Feeding yourself a convenient excuse just like you had every day since starting your employment.

Staring at her hands? No no you were admiring her tattoos or even her jewellery. She'd offer the pieces to you when she caught your gaze and you'd turn her down politely, between not wanting to give her any reason to think you were imaging about all the activities you could day dream while looking at her fingers move and the fact that she wore silver when you preferred gold it seemed like a safer choice to not accept her gestures. It was dizzying to you that the person who could make you cower with her stare could be so kind hearted.

Between the flying, the arguing with the airline company and being cold for hours your body is starting so fight back, clawing for sleep and you pace back and forth. Staring daggers at the bed for its inability to magically split in two and how comfortable it was looking as you grew more exhausted.

“No: tongue breaks, and thin fire is racing under skin

and in eyes no sight and drumming fills ears”

     Rhea nearly melted when she saw you asleep on the bed your phone tumbled beside your slack hand and you breathe softly. She's grateful that your unconsciousness had saved her from doing the which side dance. Carefully stepping towards you she gently pulls the sheets from under your legs, freezing when you adjust and murmur at her before settling again. Rhea lets out a breath and pulls the covers up your body. She flips the lamp on your side and it turns off with a metallic clank.

    Staring at the empty spot beside you she starts to breathe heavier and stalls by going to check the door that locks automatically and close the curtains. A yawn bubbles up as she's wandering around and her eye lids are getting heavier with each second. Her body moves to the bed as if it's calling and she pulls the covers back on her side before sitting down. Shes sure she looks ridiculous moving a slowly as possible and freezing with every sound.

       Rhea watches you peacefully, the soft light from under the door and the moon outside casting a heavenly glow on you. There's a part of her that feels like a creep watching you and she stares up at the ceiling for a moment. You scare the shit out of her when her your foot hits her calf, followed by a quiet whimper. Her eyes widened as she looked to you, your face scrunched in distress.

     "Hey," she whispers to you softly as her hand lightly hovers over your bare shoulder, still hesitant to touch you especially like this. Your body jerks in place again and she watches your hands curl into tight fists. "Mhm you'll hurt yourself," she tells you but you don't hear her and your unconscious body shakes. Rhea reaches for your hands trying to prevent harm, your skin is clammy on hers and she swallows thickly in fear. "Wake up for me,"

“and cold sweat holds me and shaking grips me all, greener than grass”

    You're not sure if it's the terror your sleeping brain is causing, the assertiveness of Rheas voice or feeling her nails in your hair but your eyes snap open and you gasp loudly. Desperately clinging to the nearest thing you don't even realise you've got a wrestler level trap hold on her body, or that you're holding her at all. You take in air in short shallow breaths, vision a blur of black that is Rheas clothing and warm tears.

    "It's me it's Rhea," she cooes to you, the grip you have on her holding strong and it urges her to pull you closer. "You're safe,"

      Your mouth opens to speak but nothing except a choked cry comes out, you feel Rhea pull you upwards allowing more air into your lungs as she pulls your arms over her muscular shoulders.

    "Can you hear me?" She asks and you nod against her chest, a heavy hand rubs your back and it's comforting to you both as she feels your breathing slowing. "Good girl," she says relieved. You two sit in silence for a while, small residue hiccups leaving you.

    "Th-thank you," peeling your fingers from her feels like glue as your back straightens, your arms feel like stone as they fall from her to your sides. "I had a nightmare,"

      "Yeah I-," Rhea covers her mouth with her hand not allowing the chuckle to come out, "I figured,"

     "I don't usually have those," you rasp, eyes trained on the sheets below "I don't even remember,"

   "Exhaustion and sleep deprivation make them more likely," Rhea explains, voice lowered as guilt floods her, "I pushed you too far I'm sorry,"

    "No you didn't I made the decision I'm a grown woman," you affirmed and Rhea groaned. You tried to scoot backwards but she reaches for your fore arm.

    "Yes a woman," Rhea agrees, you watch her carefully. "A woman that I can't pretend I'm not falling for, assistant or not I just can't pretend," her eyes meet yours, her gaze stronger than you'd ever seen it as you stay locked to her. "That I don't want you,"

You find yourself speechless as her confession echoes in your ears. Biting the inside of your cheek to make sure you're actually awake before you move your arms back around her shoulders and pull her flush against you. She pulls your body to straddle her as you hug tightly, getting as close as possible to each other.

"I want-," you stutter out finally finding words, as her arms fold against the small of your back. You pull back to come face to face with her, you teary eyes looking into hers. "I want you too,"

720 hours worth of self control build up had crumbled within the raven haired woman holding you, her lips find yours as you let out a gasp of surprise before your lips meld together and she swallows your small noises. Rhea tastes like tooth paste and her lips claim yours, you smile against her lips feeling her tongue ring hit your lip and she takes the opportunity to explore your mouth.

Your stomach feels like it’s floating as Rheas hands run your body, now that she finally has you she’s forgotten what it was like to have distance between your bodies. She occasionally separates from your lips allowing you to breath each others air as she places soft kisses on the sides of you mouth and your chin. She cups your jaw and uses her thumb to wipe the drool that fell from your mouth before gently pulling on your bottom lip. You watch her eyes stare hungrily at her action and the moment your lips snaps back up she’s in your mouth again.

“I am and dead—or almost”

~

“That emergency landing was the shits,” Damian complains as he plops down next to Rhea, who’s sitting in the middle plane seat despite you telling her you could take it.

“Punks a fucking beast of a snorer,”

Rheas hand squeezes yours, pressed between your two bodies and the seat. She looks to you for a moment and grins before turning back to Damian.

“Fucking awful,” Rheas tells him but can’t hide the grin on her face,

“Just intolerable,” you add smiling.

“I seem to me”

Sappho- Fragment 31

[nothorses]

Do you have any advice on finding queer community when it keeps going badly?

Ive had really bad experiences trying to be involved in my local queer community (cis queer men not allowing me to join a queer men's group because it's "for queer men to have a space away from delusional little girls", and group of cis lesbians taking bets on which would be the first to "have" me and how many of them it would take to "make a good lesbian" of me. A non binary person telling me they want to rape me to "teach me not to be a man." A group of trans women telling me that "tboys are only good as fuckdolls". Several trans men separately telling me I'm not really a trans man because I'm gay/feminine/have 'nonbinary vibes'/ etc.)

I want to be involved in a queer community, but I live in a small, very conservative town, and I'm out of places to go. I've tried online stuff, but I don't do very well with that. I feel like at this point, I'm better off just keeping to myself, but I don't really want to have to do that.

That's entirely fucked, I'm sorry. Nobody should have to go through any of that. And it's admirable that you're still seeking connection & putting yourself out there despite that.

I wonder if there are groups or activities/events in your area that aren't queer-specific, but that you might connect with queer people at anyways? Politically-oriented groups might be one avenue, but just seeking out things you're interested in could be an even better option. D&D, board games, crafts you like, hiking or nature connection-type stuff, volunteer opportunities, sports (roller derby is REAL gay!)... stuff like that? It's possible there are people in your area who've had similar experiences with those queer groups, and it's also possible there are lots of queer people who just haven't bothered with queer groups at all.

Another option might be group therapy oriented towards queer demographics, which at least come with a therapist who could be more likely to stick up for you if/when harm occurs.

Maybe some other folks have more experience with this sort of thing, though, and can offer insight & tips?

[tyrantisterror]

At Sea Without a Map Post-Script

After two months of so, my little writing experiment At Sea Without a Map has come to an end. And because I'm vain, I not only felt compelled to share it, but to talk about it in depth after the fact, so here we are. This is going to be long, though, so I'm not only going to break it into sections, but put it all under the cut for the sake of your dashboard. So go ahead and dive into the depths of the Sea of Monsters with me one more time!

Part 1: Never Stop Blowing Up

The writing process of Wizard School Mysteries Book 3 was really strained - not because of the book itself, mind you. When I was actually able to work on it, Book 3 came together really well - I think it required the least substantial rewrites of any my novels thus far. It's just that real life was kind of beating the shit out of me while I was trying to get it done - or maybe the better metaphor was that it was just slowly but steadily draining me of energy all the time. I'm honestly surprised I got the book out in roughly the same amount of time as the first two - by the way life had been treating me, it should have taken longer.

But when I got done with it I was accutely aware of how tired I was. I still had the creative drive, but fuck I needed something simple as a palette cleanser - something easy, and more importantly, something that was allowed to be bad. I needed something creative to do that was surplus to requirements and fully within its rights to suck ass so long as I had fun making it.

Around this time, I decided to rewatch Dimension 20's Never Stop Blowing Up. Brief explanation of what that is: Dimension 20 is an actual play show, i.e. a recording of people playing D&D and other TTRPGs. I'd say its reputation is built on the contrast of its main DM, Brennan Lee Mulligan, who makes these meticulously crafted campaign plans, and his chaotic band of improv comedian players who promptly derail those plans spectacularly. Like, a good deal of the show's humor comes from Emily Ashford or Ally Beardsly doing something so off-the-wall that it shatters whatever the scene was going to be and creates a far more absurd and zany spectacle in its place. Which is why Never Stop Blowing Up is pretty notable, because it's the one campaign where Brennan himself is the agent of chaos, fully unleashing his own brand of madness that the players struggle to keep up with. And fuck does he seem to have fun with it.

Of course, all of the analysis above is purely from the outside looking in - it's likely that a lot of the "chaos" is played up for the audience. But still... there is something to the idea of a person who's been working on meticulously structured stories letting loose and just doing something extremely stupid.

So I decided to give myself a Never Stop Blowing Up moment - a short story that would be simple by design, with no standards to live up to or goal beyond "have fun telling a silly little story." I then came up with a few key criteria:

It can't be set in the Midgaheim/ATOM universe. I don't want the burden of figuring out where this story would fit among others.

It's gotta be a romance. People who've read my books might have picked up on the fact that I like to write about people falling in love, for the same reason I like to write about fire-breathing reptiles and friendly monsters (i.e. I use writing to indulge in things I'll never experience in real life). I've only used romance as subplots in my fiction before, and tend to feel a bit guilty if I focus on it too long - like I'm being self indulgent. Well, this is all about self indulgence, so the romance should be front and center.

It's gotta be SIMPLE, episodic even. Not complex plotting required.

I almost chose my xenomorph romance for this, but I had developed its outline to the point where it would be too complex to fit. I then considered a sort of superhero story that could be pitched as "what if Bringing Up Baby but Katherine Hepburn's character is a Harley Quinn-esque supervillain and Cary Grant's character gets turned into some sort of horrifying genetic mutant in the first ten minutes." That one hit a weird roadblock when I got to the character brainstorming phase (the first phase of any writing project I do) - I was trying to figure out what the mad scientist who turns out Cary Grant-figure into a mutant would be named, came up with the name "Dr. Skullfuck," immediately realized that having a character named "Dr. Skullfuck" is a Mark Millar-ass writing move that I could not allow myself to do, but then couldn't stop thinking of the name "Dr. Skullfuck" and giggling, which just brought all thinking to a grinding halt on that project.

(I'll still probably do it someday, though - just, you know, without Dr. Skullfuck)

Inspiration struck again, though. I'd been getting into Epic: The Musical, a musical retelling of The Odyssey, and it put me in the mood for a sea monster story. But, more than that, it got me thinking about one particular archetype from sea monster stories - but that brings us to the next part of this Post Script...

Part 2: It Was Always About Calibani

Ok, so, one of the big changes Epic: The Musical made involved Odysseus's encounter with the sirens, and before you read more of my rambling, I'd like you to watch two animatics for the two songs in question here:

A summary: one of the sirens takes the form of Odysseus's wife to try and tempt him into getting in the water, Odysseus tricks her into giving him directions, captures her and the rest of her kind, and proceeds to have his men slaughter them horribly. In the OG story the sirens don't die - nor does their song involve imitating a man's wife, for that matter, it's just a really pretty song.

This is done for an important narrative purpose - Epic: The Musical is focused on analyzing the moral ambiguity of Odysseus, and how it is constantly challenged by the impossible choices he is forced to make in his attempt to get home. At this point in the musical, Odysseus has decided to stop trying to be a compassionate man, shirking all mercy in favor of utter ruthless pursuit of his goals. These two songs are meant to be unsettling as hell - this is the beginning of a series of heartless choices by both Odysseus and his men that will culminate in the mutiny and complete annihilation of Odysseus's crew, as well as Odysseus himself being so hopelessly stranded that nothing short of divine intervention will save him.

I bring this up because when I first heard these two songs - specifically while watching these two animatics - it, like... it devastated me. I was so horrified and sad, so shaken by it. And part of it was for the reasons outlined above, but admittedly that wasn't the gut reaction I had. No, my immediate reaction was, and I quoute my own broken brain verbatim here: "You can't kill the sirens! They're not for killing, they're for loving!"

...now, those of you who know me are probably not surprised by this very stupid sentiment coming from me. One of my more popular posts is just me talking about how down bad I would be for various folkloric monsters whose whole shtick is "looks like a pretty lady but Watch Out." But as a person filled with immense self loathing and doubt, my brain immediately looked at that very stupid sentiment I expressed and said, "Wait, no, that's fucking dumb, I'm fucking dumb. The sirens are remorseless murderers. These sirens in particular preyed upon a man's love for his wife, who he has not seen in twelve years, to convince him to let them kill him. They are, by all standards of morality, Very Fucking Evil, and if they were not women you would not feel bad about them getting killed."

And as my brain argued with itself over this topic, I got to thinking about the various monstrous/othered sea women of The Odyssey - not just the sirens, but the witch Circe, the nymph Calypso, the monsters Scylla and Charybdis. And I thought about the others of their kind in other myths and folktales - selkies, mermaids, etc.

There's an archetype of sea monster that focuses entirely on one specific anxiety sailors are prone to, namely the fact that (for a good deal of human history) being on a boat meant spending a lot of time away from women. The horror of this monster is how it uses that desire for female company to tempt people into danger - like a mirage, it leads you to expose yourself to danger in pursuit of an illusory comfort.

But, unlike real world mirages, these monstrous sea women DO exist in their stories. More than that, they're often, like, sad and lonely. Their narrative purpose is just to be a temptation, but that doesn't change the fact that they do have lives of their own in these worlds. And, softie that I am, I can't help feeling sad for them, especially the ones who actually seem to want the same companionship the sailors they tempt want. Sailors don't stay with their Circes, they don't marry their Calypsos. The sirens live on a barren rock, alone, Scylla is left to wallow in misery at her monstrous form, and the selkie always has to leave for fear of being trapped by a person who won't love her on her terms.

I realized I had my hook for this simple, easy, silly little sea monster romance story: I was going to give a sea woman the happy ending she'd never get from anyone else.

Sailor may be the protagonist, but make no mistake: At Sea Without a Map was always, always, ALWAYS about Calibani.

The goal with Calibani was simple: I was going to set up a fairly standard Monstrous Sea Woman, but where other stories would let her be in one episode of the travel narrative and move on, this one would stick around. She'd be an unambiguous predator of human beings - an open and admitted maneater - but she would have no true malice to her. She, like all predators, eats what she can get to survive, and it just so happens that she's adapted to eat humans. And the story would pose the same question to the reader that my brain posed to me during Different Beast: is there any way you could make a siren-style sea monster sympathetic? Can you make a normal person who doesn't have my particular brain rot look at a maneating siren and think, "You're not supposed to kill her, you're supposed to love her!"

One of the few unavoidable plot points of At Sea Without a Map was that Calibani and Sailor's relationship would become romantic. What kind of romance it was could have varied substantially - it could have been one-sided, it could have been toxic, it could have been far more tragic OR far more comedic. But it was always, always going to be a romance of some sort - the goal of this experiment was to make you, the reader, love Calibani. All else was icing on the cake.

I decided to base Calibani's personality on Miranda from The Tempest - i.e. a sweet girl who is both wordly and naive, who understands the strange setting of our "lost at sea" story far better than the audience viewpoint character does, but views the mundane world of the audience viewpoint character with wonder and naiveté. In fact I almost named her Miranda outright... except I already had a character in the setting I chose for this story who had that name, and as an allusion to the same Shakespearean character no less. So I settled on naming her after Miranda's adoptive sibling (of sorts), Caliban - more fitting in some ways, as Caliban is a fish-human hybrid who is arguable more native to the magic island in The Tempest than Miranda herself.

(Calibani isn't the only Tempest name homage, either - her mother, Sycorax, takes her name directly from Caliban's unseen but oft-spoken of witch mother. Dr. Antonia Warefore takes her first name from Antonio, one of the human villains in The Tempest who hopes to use being lost at sea as a way to perform a coup. And the mothman Iriel takes her name from Ariel, the wind spirit in The Tempest who aids the wizard Prospero in controlling the magic island. If Sailor has a "real" name, it's probably either Ferdinand or Miranda, the two lovers who manage to blend civilization and the wilderness together with their romance.)

Visually, I wanted Calibani to not be any common archetype of sea monster woman, but rather something that evokes the popular images while still being her own thing. She's not a mermaid or a siren or a selkie - she's basically "what if a sea serpent was also a girl." In-universe, she's chubby because she, like all marine megafauna, needs blubber to survive. Out-of-universe, she's chubby because I've found that routinely drawing cute chubby girls is good for my mental health.

Part 3: CYOA

Now, while we live in a post-Muncher society where shame and cringe are emotions only the cowardly should experience, I am nonetheless Very Catholic about expressing my own feelings of, like, liking girls and shit. I cannot help feeling guilty when publicly expressing adoration of women without, like, an excuse - it's gotta be a joke or something, you know? I can't be genuine about it, or else Jesus will beat me with a cane for disrespecting women with my lecherous gaze.

But luckily I've cultivated a loyal audience of fellow monsterfuckers, which meant I had an excuse lined up: if I made this a choose your own adventure type deal, a story with audience participation, then you all would be my accomplices. And Jesus can't cane all of us! He doesn't have enough hands! I found a loophole bigger than his stigmata!

Plus I love collaborative story-telling - there's a thrill in not having total control of where the narrative is going. As Brennan Lee Mulligan must know, there's a joy in having to deal with the chaos thrown your way by letting others grab the figurative ball, even if just for a moment.

Part 4: Offbeat Melody

Since I did not want to set this story in Midgaheim, I decided to steer myself away from a vaguely medieval setting altogether. But I also didn't want to limit myself with the need for "realism" that putting it in a normal sea would require, and making a new setting whole cloth would start pushing this project into "not easy" territory.

Luckily, I had a setting lying around that I hadn't played with in a while, which just so happened to have a location that was PERFECT for the sort of Never Stop Blowing Up style madness I was aiming for. For a few years I ran a Monster of the Week TTRPG campaign called Offbeat Melody, and one of its core setting elements was taking the goblin universe hypothesis in paranormal science (yeah it's a real hypothesis) to an illogical extreme. We had specifically seen glimpses of the Sea of Monsters in Offbeat Melody, i.e. the parallel universe where monsters like Nessie, Ogopogo, Champ, and the like all hail from. Well, why not have a whole story set there? It's literally a universe devoted solely to creating sea monsters - what better place to strand our modern Odysseus?

Offbeat Melody was always sort of a Never Stop Blowing Up project, or at least NSBU adjacent. Some of my most unhinged story-telling moments are in that campaign - you could make a supercut of just the "commercial breaks" in the various sessions and it'd basically be an I Think You Should Leave episode. Taking one obscure corner of its multiversal world and exploring it in detail was perfect for this project.

Part 5: Monster by Monster

With our main romance as sorted out as could be for a CYOA story, it was time to figure out the "episodes" of this sea voyage. I settled on there being ten to roughly align with The Odyssey - just in terms of number, mind you, not in a one-to-one comparison. The first was, obviously, Calibani herself, which left nine more slots for me to fill with monsters. Let's go through them together in brief:

Tree Storks - any lost at sea story eventually has to get its protagonist into an island at some point, but this immediately begs the question, "Why don't they just stay on the island where it's safe?" The answer to that question has to be, "it's not safe there, actually." The Odyssey does this quickly and cleverly with a one two punch: the first island seems safe until you realize the food on it brainwashes you into forgetting everything except your desire to eat it, and the second island is full of delicious sheep but also giants who will eat you just as easily as they eat the sheep. When other islands show up in the story later, you immediately regard them with suspicion, because you don't know HOW they're going to be fucked up, but they definitely will be. My goal with the second episode was to establish the same sort of danger - that land is NOT safe, that islands WILL be fucked up and dangerous in ways you might not expect.

I also wanted to establish that this is not just a sea of monsters, but a very WEIRD sea of WEIRD monsters. It couldn't be any old monster on this island - it had to be one that was unique, unexpected, and maybe just a bit silly while still being menacing.

I've always felt that there's a lot of un-mined horror potential in storks, cranes, and herons - any bird with a long neck and spear-like beak it uses to stab smaller creatures from above. Just imagine yourself in a frog's place in the world - tiny, going about your business, when suddenly something shoots down at you from above and impales you before you even feel the shadow fall over your face. Or perhaps you did see the shadow - some of these birds spread their wings to create shade specifically to attract fish, and then spear the poor little bastards.

Well, what do people often look to islands for when out at sea? Shade - the shade of a palm tree. And palm fronds kinda resemble feathers, don't they? Wouldn't it be both ludicrous and terrifying is there was a stork big enough to mimic a palm tree - and wouldn't that be a DEVIOUS trap for a sun-drenched sailor to fall for? So the Tree Storks were born.

The Globster - I made a list of sea monster archetypes in the early planning for this project, and one I wanted to include was a kraken, i.e. some sort of tentacled sea beast. But I didn't want to do JUST a big squid or octopus, or even a riff on them. I wanted to take the idea of "big sea monster with lots of tentacles" into a stranger direction.

Since the Sea of Monsters is explicitly the home universe of lake and sea monster cryptids, I thought it might be fun if ASWaM's kraken equivalent was a globster - just a big ball of rotten meat. I love drawing monstrous faces, so I decided it'd just be, like, MADE of hideous rotten faces, all melting and congealing together, with its tentacles doubling as the tongues of its many mouths. A perfectly wretched image that, like the Tree Storks, would do well to establish how Fucked things could get in this setting. Plus similar monsters had appeared in Offbeat Melody, which would make for a fun sense of familiarity for the, like, five or so readers of mine who had listened to that campaign before.

Captain Peter & the Dolphin - Another thing I did in the early planning stages of this project was make a list of the different sea voyage stories I know and love, the most contentious of which is The Life of Pi. That's a story that I love on a literal level but kind of hate on a figurative level - its whole theme/message is that doubt is the worst thing you can have, that if you don't commit to believing something with zealous conviction you are a coward. As a person who thinks doubt is valid, that "I don't know" is sometimes the ONLY truly valid answer to a question, I have issues with that message.

But I can't help loving the beautifully ludicrous idea of a non-anthropomorphic tiger sailing the ocean on a big Odyssey of its own. Like, if that story didn't actively hate me for being agnostic, it would be one of my favorites.

So I decided to, you know, just steal the idea of a tiger Odysseus. The tiger in The Life of Pi is named Richard Parker. Richard Parker also happens to be the name of Peter Parker's dad. Hence we get Captain Peter - the figurative son of Richard Parker, if you will. And to ratchet up the absurdity of a tiger Odysseus, I made him a pirate and the sole sailor of his voyage. Somehow, this tiger has manned a boat on his own.

Captain Peter was intended to be the hero of another story - a sign for the readers that it IS possible for a stranded person (or, in this case, tiger) to survive out here. To that end, he had to rescue our heroes from another threat, but not one that would be interesting enough to take the focus off of the tiger pirate. Originally I planned for that threat to just be a big shark, but I ended up liking my shark design too much to put it in a role that small, so I quickly designed a nasty dolphin for the role instead. I think that worked out well, honestly.

Dr. Neptune - Episodes 5 and 6 were the mid-point of this journey, so I wanted the two monsters of those to escalate things significantly. I figured episode 5 was probably a good place to FINALLY give some meaningful exposition on what was going on, and there are a lot of stories about mad scientists doing weird shit on islands in my big list of sea voyage stories I love. So we get Dr. Neptune, a classical brain-in-a-jar mad scientist who's affable enough to give more-or-less accurate exposition but loony enough to be a problem. This also felt like a good spot to remind the reader that Calibani is not just a girl with a tail but rather a Sea Monster herself, and one that we'd been making stronger by allying with.

With his human-but-not-quite nature and cyclops eye, Dr. Neptune could sort of be seen as the Polyphemus of this story, couldn't he?

The Crocodisle - One of the sea monster archetypes on my list was "the island that's actually a sleeping monster," of which there are many in mythology and folklore. My favorite is the Jasconius from the voyage of St. Brendan, mainly because it's more or less benign and actually comes back to help St. Brendan and his crew at the end of the story. I always love when I can find an old story with a friendly monster in it.

When thinking of my own spin on the island monster concept, I remembered the only Magic the Gathering card I had as a kid, which I still have and love to this day: The Sandbar Crocodile. This card already inspired Crocogon's color scheme in The Atomic time of Monsters, but I felt I could go to that well again one more time, and so made a crocodile that wasn't just a sandbar, but a whole damn island to itself. And, like Jasconius, it turns out he's pretty chill.

I did not think of the pun name "Crocodisle" until I was actually writing the chapter in question.

The Femdom Mermaids - These three were a late addition to the roster. When I had Calibani bring up mermaids early in the story, I realized as soon as I wrote her rant about them that we'd HAVE to meet some later on in the story.

The readers had significantly shaped Calibani and Sailor's romance by this point, and I decided that it could be useful to have a chapter that was devoted to showing definitively how these two were good for each other. I thought the mermaids could provide a good contrast: have them act out a seemingly more benign take on the monstrous sea women trope (they abduct our hero to protect and care for them!) only for it to quickly feel MORE deranged than Calibani's comparatively simple desire just to eat him.

The spirit of Calibani's rant about mermaids was taken from weird* girls I knew in high school complaining about cheerleaders, so I wanted the mermaids to look like the sea monster equivalent of popular kids to Calibani's chubby weird girl. Two of them got the names of famous beauties - Helyne = Helen of Troy, Clio = Cleopatra.

(*when I say "weird" I mean it in a complimentary and affectionate sense)

Bob, meanwhile, kinda... rebelled, I guess? Before I had names for them, I listed "bob" by her as just, like, a descriptor for her hair cut, but then I liked it as her name, and once she was named Bob she became more than just a mean popular girl. She was a weirdo too, the little punching bag of the two mean popular girls who did their dirty work and smiled through their abuse because hey, at least they included her. It gave the trio an easily defined dynamic, helped make two of the three more visibly nasty, and gave us comic relief in an arc that could very well have gotten too uncomfortable otherwise.

And I guess it worked - readers REALLY loved Bob, and were very vocal about it, and I realized mid-arc that I had accidentally made her too likable to just leave in this arc. So Bob got to be rescued from her awful friend group thanks to readers like YOU.

Lord Ironteeth - yeah, this was the shark that was too cool to be a minor threat. When I drew his noggin, I realized he would need a chapter of his own, one with gravitas. I decided he'd specifically be the threshold guardian -once we beat him, we'd know for sure how to get home, even if there were a few more threats in store.

Spindle Inc and Sycorax - when I was a kid I used to have this recurring nightmare about being on some sort of underwater sea station that had this huge sea serpent trapped inside it. I'd look at the sea serpent from a window within the station and see it coiling in its tank, only for it to look at me with fury. In that glance I would suddenly realize two things with absolute clarity: first, it was going to break free and kill everyone, and second, we deserved that destruction for what we had done to it. The terror of the dream was less that the sea serpent was going to break free, and more the guilt of knowing that all the mayhem that was about to unfold was our fault to begin with.

I thought that would be fun to homage with the penultimate chapter of this story. OBVIOUSLY the sea serpent was Calibani's mom, obviously the trauma of its capture was why Calibani grew into a predator that specializes in hunting humans, obviously we would have to free the sea serpent despite that running counter to Sailor's goal of getting home. Easy, easy, easy plot point to include.

Spindle, Inc. is the primary antagonistic force in Offbeat Melody, so they easily slotted into the role of the arrogant humans who captured this monster for nefarious and selfish motives. They could tie a lot of other plot threads together too - Dr. Neptune was a scientist who worked for them as a contractor only to get screwed over (i.e. they stranded him in the Sea of Monsters, expecting him to die, and then used his research to make their own base of operations in it), we'd learn of him through a spindle briefcase left behind by some unfortunate rogue agent who got eaten by the Globster while he was trying to escape, hell they could even be one of the possible origins of Sailor themself (more on that later). Very useful villains, Spindle.

The Abyssal Mother - I knew the last sea monster would need a lot of punch to it. I briefly considered just a big whale - the Moby Dick to Spindle's corporate Ahab - but it felt underwhelming after all that came before. So I went for arguably the most dramatic possible sea monster, a full on Cthulhu-style elder god. If you're a frequent follower of this blog, you might know I have particularly high standards for Eldritch Abominations, so I realized this was going to be a pretty big challenge for me to live up to, and decided to keep the cthulhu in question reserved to the last few entries as a result - the less it appears, the less it has to live up to.

I realized I had a good angle when my experiments with the Cthulhu "squid for a head" concept ended up having a face framed in shadow - you know, the same visual that our protagonist has in most appearances. That provided some very juicy parallels between the two that made this final monster feel particularly noteworthy to me, ones that I'll leave you to ponder, since they tie into...

Part 6: Themes

I did not set out to have a theme in this story. I just wanted to make a sailor and a sea monster kiss. That was my only goal.

But I really don't begin with theme in ANY of my writing. I figure out topics I want to address, but for all my novels I feel like the themes didn't start coming together until about halfway through the first draft, when enough of the elements of the story had been set down and interacted with each other enough for me to realize what I was saying with them. A huge part of my second and third drafts for my novels have focused on making the themes of my stories more concrete and unified.

Well, ASWaM is very much a first draft of a story, but it's a simple enough story that I think the theme found itself pretty well despite lacking subsequent drafts to refine it.

ASWaM is about doubt and direction. It's about being adrift in a world that is in many ways hostile by nature, about not feeling like you're where you're supposed to be or even WHO you're supposed to be, and about setting off aimlessly in the hope that maybe you'll find your way to that mythical land of "what my life is supposed to be."

When I began the story, Sailor had amnesia and wore clothes that obscured their identity as a way to make it easier for anyone to step into Sailor's role. Sailor had to feel like You, the Reader, and so we don't know their name, their gender, their eye color, their hair color, even their skin color (note that their hands are always wearing gloves, and their face is always in shadow).

But it also meant Sailor is, well, undefined, at least at the start of the story. Sailor doesn't know who they are, what they are, how they came to be. Sailor feels distinctly that they should be Something Else, should be Somewhere Else, should be Someone Else, should not be who/what/where they are. Sailor is plagued by doubt, by a need to go in a different direction, by a need to be other than they are.

This initially contrasts with Calibani, who begins the story very confident that she is doing exactly what she was designed to be doing and acting exactly like she should be. As they interact, they begin to shift each other in opposite directions - Calibani questions her existence and nature, sometimes to a self destructive degree, and Sailor begins to find something about who and where they are that they like. They find a healthy middle ground together - doubtful enough to want to be better people, but with love for themselves that allows them to not feel the need to up-heave their lives entirely.

I knew at the start that I would build an expectation for there to be some answer to the question of who Sailor is and where they came from, because those are the questions that begin the whole narrative. I brainstormed a number of answers to those questions, but once I got a few chapters into writing the story and saw this theme of doubt developing, I realized I couldn't answer them. From a thematic standpoint, the doubt HAD to remain. So I gave hints to possible answers, bits of evidence to support the possibility of them being true, but never planted a smoking gun that answered it for sure.

Sailor can't know the answer because NONE of us know the answer. Outside of blind Life of Pi style faith, you cannot know for sure that you are living the life you're supposed to live. All you can do is figure out whether you're happy with the life you've got, or if you need a change. Sailor will never know who they are supposed to be, but they did learn who they are, and they love that person now.

For those curious, the possible Sailor origins are:

Occam's Razor: they're exactly what Dr. Neptune theorized, i.e. a human who got stranded in the Bermuda Triangle (or the Devil's Triangle or any other number of paranormal triangles) and fell into the Sea of Monsters. The trauma of that experience gave them amnesia. It's just brain damage and bad luck.

A Spindle Experiment: Dr. Warefore mentions that Spindle has been trying to find a way to make a human who can evolve like the denizens of the Sea of Monsters. Sailor may well be an attempt to do just that, perhaps one they wrote off as a failure and abandoned (they do that a lot)

A Deep One: Sailor is the offspring of one of the denizens of the Sea of Monsters (most likely the Abyssal Mother herself) who has somehow been tricked into believing they are human, to the point where they seem to be human to everyone else, even other monsters. Maybe a human summoned a sea monster to breed with on earth, and Sailor ended up being subconsciously drawn back to the Sea by their blood. Maybe Sailor never actually lived on earth at all, but was only made to THINK they had as part of the transformation into a human.

The Platonic Ideal of a Sailor: the Sea of Monsters is full of archetypal concepts, and arguably a sailor trying to find their way home is just as archetypal as any sea serpent, mermaid, or kraken. Our only proof that humans aren't native to the Sea of Monsters is Dr. Neptune, and he's not as reliable an expert as he claims to be.

This theme of doubt and direction also made the compass more important to the narrative than a simply mechanic for audience participation - a compass, after all, gives direction, and the feeling that Sailor is not where they're supposed to be, that they need to head in a different direction, is ultimately the catalyst of the plot. The compass is, in many ways, the antagonist of the story - the force that keeps Sailor from accepting themself. I realized this a little after I started making the different directions have personalities - initially they just represented broad concepts (North = follow conventional wisdom ala the North Star, South = preserve your short-term self interest at all costs, East = act with curiosity and be willing to take calculated risks, and West = throw caution to the wind and do anything that seems novel and exciting), but over time they became little characters themselves.

Since it was our thematic antagonist, I decided to pepper in some ideas about what the compass might be in-universe - and, in a move that would no doubt frustrate the compass, we also don't know for sure which of those is "correct." Is the compass a poltergeist, some amalgamation of dead sailors who try to steer other lost souls home? Is it a malign entity that leeches off of those desperate enough to seek its aid, living through them while pretending to aid them? Is it a device Spindle made to lure sailors to their clutches, OR to guide their experiments in human/monster hybrids? Was it a cursed item that forced a sea monster to assume a human shape? Who can say - the compass sure can't, it can only tell you a direction to go in.

Part 7: Q&A

Since this was an interactive story, I felt it was only fitting to add one last interactive element to this post-script write up, and some of your happily obliged me by sending in questions.

When I noticed how fast readers were falling for Calibani, I figured there was a good chance we'd end up staying in the Sea of Monsters. By chapter 7, I figured it was more or less a given, and by the end of the Lord Ironteeth encounter I was almost 100% sure Sailor would remain at sea. There was always a chance, though - while a look at the polls shows that the audience got more and more on the same page towards the end, there were always dissenting voices, and the desire to get an answer to the question of Who Sailor Was remained strong, as a number of people kept trying to find angles where they could get that AND stay with Calibani.

I was surprised early on by how easily the audience fell in love with Calibani, to the point where I made a few posts commenting on it. I mean, I shouldn't have been - as I said earlier, I have cultivated an audience of fellow monsterfuckers on here, and I know at least a few of them saw my bait and knew they could get me to be freaky in a way we found mutually agreeable (thank you all again for helping me escape being caned by Jesus for being horny).

Like, we REPEATEDLY ignored developing the plot in the Tree Storks chapter for several days just to spend more time with Calibani - something that I enjoyed immensely (this whole thing was an excuse for me to write and draw a cute chubby sea monster girl as much as possible aftter all) but also knew as a storyteller was not what most would consider a good story call. I like how it turned out, but it defied conventional narrative wisdom, you know? I was surprised.

On the other side of the coin, I was also surprised by how the audience NEVER chose an option that was humorously disastrous. I gave plenty of them, and, like, generally in collaborative storytelling there will be at least one moment where your collaborators decide to do the really, REALLY stupid thing that makes everything spiral out of control really quickly. I figured at least once the audience would choose the troll response, but no, you guys worked hard to keep Sailor and Calibani alive. You refused to let them hurt each other, refused to let them throw themselves into danger, refused to imperil them for your own chuckles. It was very sweet and unexpected.

I say "you refused" but to be fair it's not like NO ONE voted for the troll options - they generally got a handful of votes, just one that was beaten by a landslide of more reasonable options. Hopefully those of you who voted for the troll options enjoyed Bob throwing you a bone by disintegrating Dr. Warefore - that was my consolation prize to you.

Yes. I knew at the beginning that there would be two endings for this story: either Sailor leaves the Sea and goes home, or Sailor stays there forever. Or, you know, Sailor dies as a result of you guys choosing several stupid options in a row, but as stated above you guys avoided those scenarios pretty decisively.

Had Sailor gone home, the following would have occurred: first, they would forget everything that happened in the Sea of Monsters. Second, they would wake up in a hospital, having been found in the Atlantic Ocean by a human-recovery charity run by... oh, isn't that funny, some tech company named Spindle Inc! Spindle would foot the medical bills and even offer Sailor a job, but Sailor would decline because even now they're still not sure what Spindle even does. Sailor would go back to their life and find it familiar and utterly mundane, but not particularly happy. Their father died when they were 18, their mother was never in the picture, they have no siblings. They worked an office job and were sort of a nonentity - that position has long since been filled, but Sailor gets a new job and lives out much the same life: simple, mundane, dreary. Every now and then they get a pang of desire to leave, to go to sea, but they push it out of mind. They never even see the ocean again as long as they live.

Sailor would have gotten the normal life they thought they were supposed to have, the normal memories and name and identity, the mundane life of a normal person. And they just had to trade everything they found in the Sea of Monsters to get it. A question is answered, a direction is followed, but is it the right answer, the right direction?

Well, I think doubt would have remained.

I had a very vague idea for there to be some sort of man-eating giant in, like, a crystal castle. He got cut to make way for the mermaids.

I wanted to fit in a big whale and a giant crustacean, but there wasn't room or an interesting angle for me to want to make room for them. Saved for a possible sequel, I suppose.

I also wanted to have a scene with, like, DOZENS of sea monsters, including some of the ones from Offbeat Melody, but the goal of "this should be EASY you dumbass" made me kill that idea pretty quick.

Thank you!

The primary inspirations were:

The Odyssey and Epic: the Musical

The voyage of St. Brendan

The many "weird shit happens on an island" movies in Toho's filmography, i.e. Godzilla vs. the Sea Monster, Son of Godzilla, Yog Monster of the Deep, Matango, etc.

The Island of Dr. Moreau

The Boy and the Heron

Ponyo (specifically Ponyo's parents - I wanted Sailor to have the same desperate energy as that wizard who fucks the giant sea goddess)

The Life of Pi

Slay the Princess (perhaps most obvious in the use of second person narration, multiple voices in the protagonist's head, and falling in love with a creature that has tried to kill you at least once)

I'm going to use this to springboard to a related point in a second, but first a genuine yet humorous answer: Yes, absolutely yes, I am enough of a big romantic sap that I would give everything about my life away to be with a person who loves me and explore a world of monsters in a heartbeat. Hell, I would have jumped in the water the minute Calibani asked and died with her fangs in my neck and a smile on my face. I am dumb this way. Do not follow my example.

On that related point, though... Most stories like this, I daresay ALL stories like this that I know of, end with the hero abandoning the fantasy world in favor of reality, never to return. And that seems like the proper choice and lesson on the surface - we don't want to tell audiences to give up their real life in favor of a fantasy, after all. That's encouraging escapism, and that's not healthy!

But, like... textually speaking, the fantastical world IS real to the characters in these stories. And it's often not really an escape - was Sailor's life devoid of conflict and suffering in the Sea of Monsters? Fuck no! It's just that they figured out how to deal with that conflict and suffering - they built skills and a support system, they adapted, they learned how to overcome what was there.

I think it can be argued that sometimes the return to a "normal" world is, in itself, an escape - the idea that your life can spiral into chaos but that's ok, you can just reset everything and go back to The Way It Was and Should Be is just as unrealistic and unhealthy an idea as You Should Escape to A Better World. Sometimes your plans for your life fall apart, sometimes you're thrown into a place you never intended to go, sometimes you have to learn skills you never anticipated needing and ally with people you never thought you'd befriend to deal with problems you never dreamed you'd have to overcome. And sometimes it's ok to look at your derailed life, your Not Where You Should Be life, and say, "Well, I've learned how to live here... maybe I can stay."

Especially if there's a cute chubby sea monster girl who loves you.

Bob was never supposed to appear past chapter 7, but about halfway through that chapter I realized the audience and I myself would be heartbroken if we didn't rescue her. Definitely for the best - she provided some well-needed comic relief in the final chapters.

This is gonna sound snarky, but, yeah - there were 58 choices with four options a piece, and we only chose one of the four. While some of the options would have similar results, almost none would have had identical outcomes. And some would have been VERY different.

Like, to go back to the beginning: when Calibani attacked, we could either throw a net on her, harpoon her, try to drive around her, or hide below deck. We picked the net, but for the other three options:

Harpooning would result in us hitting her in the thigh, causing her enough pain that she collapses on our deck and we, horrified at the violence we committed, just sort of push on. Calibani would be wounded for at least the next chapter, perhaps longer, and significantly weaker (and probably harboring a great deal of hidden resentment while also being genuinely scared of Sailor). She would be vulnerable during the stork attack, forcing Sailor to take a more active role in that chapter.

Trying to steer around her would result in us essentially fighting her with our boat, resulting in the boat capsizing and Calibani getting tangled up in it. We'd wake up alone on Stork Island and have to travel in search of our boat, alone and vulnerable among man-eating trees. We'd run into Calibani again, also beached and in trouble, end up recruiting her to help us get our boat out of the sand.

Hiding below deck would end in a sea storm that leaves us inside our boat as it's beached on Stork Island. We'd fend off the storks alone, and run into Calibani once we get our boat out to sea, as she got away more or less unscathed.

All of these would have majorly changed the trajectory of our relationship with Calibani and our identity as Sailor, despite seeming to have the same component parts on the surface. Now account for how similarly slight changes in the other options could have gone, and we could have had a very different story indeed.

Part 8: Our Girl

I just think she's neat!

[papaya-inspiration]

Foreach 2024 Reader Survey Results

So, my buddy @lumsel makes a lil webcomic called Foreach. I help 'em out with it sometimes. The comic's website doesn't have a comment section, so I thought it'd be fun to do a little year-end survey to see who was reading and what they think!

We had an incredible response, with 279 respondents to the survey--more than are in the Foreach discord server! So let's get into it.

Character Popularity Poll

Alright, let's start with the thing I know y'all are most excited about. As the comic creators, we love all our characters equally... but clearly you guys don't!

☀️ SUNNY SWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!! ☀️

Y'all REALLY like Sunny, eh? Don't worry, us too. In fact, 80.3% of you listed her in your top 3 favorite characters. Hell yeah.

The next top four characters are the four game protagonists, with Jiro ranking top, then Nix, Cliff and Coral. A lot of readers also mentioned Jiro as particularly relatable/lovable in the write in box at the end of the form. (Don't worry, I won't tell him y'all like him this much. Though with this many Love Warriors, Proteus won't stand a chance invading the island.) I was a bit surprised to see Jasper/Coral ranked as the lowest of the four protagonists! Given that the comic initially presents her as the "anchor" character and a jumping off point for the story as a whole--but that also means she's among the least unusual of the four protagonists, and thus stands out less? It's a hypothesis.

After that, we have Polyta (which makes a lot of sense, she's had some of the most page time of the side characters), then Mercy and Doctor Kree'zik. I wonder if some of this is recency bias, partiularly in Kree'zik's case, seeing as we haven't gotten much past xer character introduction yet. I'll be curious to see how these numbers shift if we run this again next year!

We also got some minor character write ins! Several people said they enjoyed various Aveans, with two votes specifically for the Avean Captains and someone else voting for the avean grunt from page 106 who says "Thanks a bundle!" And I agree: they're pretty adorable. Another person listed "the author" as their favorite character which... you know what, it is a fairly meta comic, so I'll allow it. (Even though, hilariously, Lum is the only member of the creative team to have not had a character cameo in the comic yet.)

Also shout out to the person who wrote in that they almost listed the character cameos for Peri and Kiki (the rat and the rabbit from pgs 24-25) as their favorites. I see you and appreciate you <3

Game Popularity Poll

Not a ton to say about this. People seem to like cozy-ish indie games and furry aesthetics. Makes sense to me.

Comic Info

How are people finding Foreach?

As always, word of mouth is CRUCIAL for indie webcomics getting off the ground. You guys sharing and linking it to friends and communities is really the engine behind getting eyes onto our art--so thank you!

We got another big boost from joining the @spiderforestcomics webcomic collective. So far, it's been a great experience and we've been loving the community over there. So if you're in the market for more comics, definitely go check out some of theirs!

I should note that there is definitely some overlap between these categories. We let people mark multiple answers, so many people marked "Word of Mouth (online)" in addition to other categories like Tumblr and other discord servers. In that broader category, there where several places that people specifically noted finding the comic including:

Our reader Digamma has been tirelessly reposting the comic to the Something Awful forums, and it looks like quite a few people have been keeping up from there! Thanks, Digamma, you're a certified super-spreader!

Dan of @thewebcomicsreview has linked to Foreach several times!

People also mentioned finding it through various discord communities, including the Star Impact server, a server for puzzle games, Foxglove Comics, and others

Rilly had a cameo in @erinptah's webcomic, Leif and Thorne!

Several people discovered it directly through the Neocities discover page!

Cohost, Cloudhiker, and a fairly lukewarm substack review... which nonetheless garnered us a few readers. I'll take it!

Currently, Foreach doesn't pay for traditional banner ads of any kind. So everytime you tell a friend about the comic or share a link to it, you're helping us out a ton! Thank you!

How are people keeping up with comic updates?

Not too much to say on this. Lots of manual checkers, and it looks like we're getting good mileage out of that RSS feed. Excellent!

Readership Info

Discord Membership

We had more survey responses than people currently in the Foreach discord. But even more excitingly, only about one third of survey respondents are also in the discord. Which is exciting, because it means there's more of a readership out there checking the comic updates than we knew previously!

Additionally, I'm personally excited by this result because hearing from those quieter members of our reader base is precisely why I wanted to put out this survey. We have a lovely, active community in the discord, but as a side effect that means we're hearing a lot of opinions from just one, disproportionately vocal part of our reader base. My hope with this survey was that we'd get a chance to hear some voices that we don't usually get to interact with... So for all you silent majority readers out there: Hello! Thanks so much for chiming in!

Patreon Membership

Most of our readers don't back the patreon. Which is to be expected! We actually got a few new patrons signing up after the survey was posted, which is absolutely lovely of y'all. (Hi new patrons! 👋)

If you're wondering what the Patreon money gets used for, it's a mixture of funding extras the comic and supporting Lum's future creative endeavors. This year, we used a big chunk of the funding to commission the Love Bomb portraits for the new Cast Page, which were done by the talented Beajrb (go check out their work!) In the future, some of it may be used for commission work related to the comic, and also for the long term goal for Lum to take some time off their day job to draw comics/make games/etc.

We also asked what else people might like to see us do with the patreon. Right now, we post author commentary on pages with about a 2-chapter lag time, and people seem pretty happy with that over all. There were a few requests for bonus character art, pin ups, or character-asks, and we'll keep that in mind going forward. Since all of us are working full time, there's only limited time we have for making additional content, but who knows what the future holds!

Reader Geography

So where in the world are our readers? Well, I I thought it'd be fun to make this cute little map:

...which turned out to be a huge pain in the ass and a little misleading with the color ranges. So here it is another way:

Our reader base is very American-heavy. Honestly a little moreso than I was expecting? Maybe it's the magnetic charisma of Cliff Mason that keeps drawing them in?

But is it a good comic?

According to our readers, it's a 5.35/5 star comic. Make of that what you will :3

Final Thoughts

At the end of the form, we had an open response box for anything else y'all might want to say to us. And let me just say: y'all blew us away. Thank you so much.

So many of the comments were incredibly kind. People told us about characters they connected to, about how excited they were for to see what happens next. Some of them were sweet, some were horny, some of you compared Foreach to some of OUR favorite webcomics, (which was absolutely unreal to read!) Some of you guys wrote whole freakin' essays! I can't recap everything, but please know that we read every single one of them.

Thank you again for joining us on this journey. Here's to a great 2025--and another year of Freachin' it together!

[legendary-69420]

In between Floors

Chapter 3

(Racing Hearts : VOLUME 3 )

racing hearts

The day had been long, grueling even, but as the Ferrari team shuffled into the hotel lobby after the race, a sense of satisfaction settled over them. P3 and P4 weren’t the top results they were gunning for, but there was a quiet pride in their performance—a sense of having pushed their limits without breaking. The sound of footsteps on polished floors echoed in the expansive lobby, mingling with the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses from the bar. Even the team’s usual chatter seemed quieter tonight, everyone tired but content.

Mark walked alongside Charles, the weight of the day still clinging to his muscles, but a smirk playing on his lips nonetheless. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it for now. "What do you think about dinner?" he asked Charles, his voice low, more out of habit than genuine curiosity.

Charles, who had been trying to stifle a yawn since they left the track, looked up at him with a distracted smile. "I think we should just get back to our rooms. I’m exhausted."

The two of them entered the elevator together, Mark briefly checking his phone one last time as Charles pressed the button for their floor. The soft ding of the elevator closing felt like a small reprieve from the chaos of the race day. But just as the doors slid shut, there was a jolt—a strange, sudden halt that made the elevator’s lights flicker ominously.

Charles frowned, pressing the button for their floor again, but there was no response. Another few moments passed, each one longer than the last, before he cursed softly under his breath. "Of course," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "This happens now?"

Mark glanced up from his phone, his eyebrow raised slightly. "What happened?"

"The elevator’s stuck," Charles said, his tone barely containing his irritation. "Perfect way to end the night, right?"

Mark chuckled, a sound that was light and easy. "Hey, at least it’s not raining or something." He slid down to sit against the wall, stretching his legs in front of him. "Could be worse."

Charles raised an eyebrow, considering Mark’s ability to remain unfazed. For some reason, that grounded him a little, even though his patience was wearing thin. With a sigh, he leaned back against the wall too, his eyes closing for just a moment. There was no telling how long they’d be stuck in this cramped, claustrophobic space. The weight of the day was beginning to settle in, pressing against his chest like a physical force. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back, allowing himself to relax just a little.

But Mark, ever the contrast, seemed perfectly at ease. "You know," he started, looking at Charles with a grin, "we could always turn this into a bonding experience. I’m sure the universe thinks we need some one-on-one time."

Charles snorted, opening one eye to glance at Mark, who was clearly trying to keep the mood light. "Oh really? You’re gonna make me enjoy being stuck in an elevator?"

"Why not? There’s a first time for everything," Mark shrugged nonchalantly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Maybe you’ll get some good material for the next press conference."

Charles couldn’t help but chuckle, though the sound was more exhausted than anything. He appreciated Mark’s ability to keep things light even in uncomfortable situations, especially when Charles was prone to stress. "Maybe I’ll say I had to rescue you from a life-or-death situation," he teased.

Mark’s smile widened. "Oh, don’t worry, I’m sure your heroism would shine through. Just don’t expect any medals."

The conversation trailed off into comfortable silence for a few moments, the only sound the occasional hum of the elevator’s motor and the soft creaking of the walls. Mark pulled his phone out again, scrolling nothing specific idly, though he kept an ear on Charles, noticing the way the man’s breathing had slowed as the tension in the space loosened. There was a certain ease in the way Mark held himself, as though the discomfort of being stuck in an elevator wasn’t a big deal to him. It was almost like he was at home, the same way he would be in any other situation, whether it was in front of a crowd or in this small, confined space.

After a while, Charles noticed the slow rise and fall of Mark’s chest and the way his posture softened. There was something about the stillness between them that felt unusually intimate. Mark’s jokes had slowly faded into quieter comments, and the energy around them had shifted. It wasn’t just the tiredness of the day creeping up on them; it was something more subtle, like an unspoken understanding in the air, a shared moment of vulnerability that neither of them could have predicted. And surprisingly there was no trace of any awkwardness or tension that built up due to the kisses.

Then, to Charles’ surprise, Mark yawned deeply, his back arching as he stretched his arms above his head. "Man, I could totally fall asleep right here," he mumbled, more to himself than to Charles. "Like, this is the perfect spot for a nap."

Charles chuckled, shaking his head. "You’re insane. You can’t sleep here."

But Mark, with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, simply closed his eyes, as if to prove his point. "Watch me."

Charles rolled his eyes, but there was a small, amused smile on his face as he watched Mark settle in, arms folded behind his head. There was something oddly comforting about Mark’s ability to just…be. To make peace with the situation. To find humor in everything.

A few more minutes passed in silence. Charles was beginning to doze off as well, the gentle hum of the elevator and Mark’s calm presence around him lulling him into a half-dream state. But suddenly, he felt Mark shift beside him, turning slightly as if he was adjusting his position. It wasn’t uncomfortable—quite the opposite. Mark’s shoulder brushed against Charles’, a quiet, familiar contact that didn’t seem forced or awkward. It was simply…natural.

Before Charles could process what was happening, Mark's own head shifted unconsciously, and he found it leaning gently against Charles’ shoulder. The unexpected contact wasn’t shocking, but it still caused a soft flutter in his chest. Mark glanced up, wondering if Charles would move away or say something, but Charles didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he didn’t care. Either way, Charles or Mark couldn’t bring themself to pull away.

Minutes stretched on, and Charles felt his own body relax into the warmth of Mark’s presence. He had no idea why, but the steady rise and fall of Mark’s breath, the gentle weight of his body beside him, seemed to melt away the stress and tension that had built up throughout the day. It was so simple, so quietly comforting.

Eventually, Charles’ eyelids fluttered closed, and before he realized it, he had fallen asleep.

It was the hum of the elevator motor that roused Charles from his deep sleep. He blinked a few times, his mind slowly coming to the realization that the elevator was moving again. A soft warmth on his shoulder told him exactly where he was, and as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he noticed that Mark had fallen asleep too—his head resting against Charles’, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

For a moment, Charles simply stared at Mark, unable to shake the soft warmth in his chest. It was an entirely new feeling, this proximity, this shared vulnerability. There was something undeniably comforting in this unexpected closeness. His heart beat a little faster than usual, but he couldn’t put a finger on why. He almost didn’t want to move, to disturb the quiet moment.

When the elevator finally gave a soft ding, signaling that they had reached their floor, Charles nudged Mark gently. "Hey," he whispered. "We’re here."

Mark stirred, blinking open his eyes groggily. "Did we fall asleep?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

Charles nodded, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Looks like it."

Mark stretched out, yawning, and grinned as he rose to his feet. "Not bad for an elevator nap, huh?"

Charles couldn’t help but laugh quietly. "Yeah, you might be the first person I know who can sleep through something like that."

As they stepped out of the elevator and into the hallway, side by side, Charles caught himself glancing at Mark more than once. It was an odd sensation—the easy, almost effortless camaraderie that had developed between them, something he hadn’t anticipated. He couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been there, quietly building beneath the surface.

(Dividers by @mikeykuns & @toxisyddy)

[theophagie]

Re: The Millie Thing

Yeah yeah there's a chance that her panic has to do with her economic situation, or with whatever bad experience she may have had with Chaz and trauma be Like That even though she rationally knows that Moxxie is completely different from him, and they're eventually going to find a way to make it work out because kumbaya love wins blah blah blah

'Cause I'm (not) sorry, I hope fetus jakey gets aborted lol. 1) Because of the "Ugh, a woman who's not thrilled about her pregnancy embraces motherhood in the end? Totally unique, completely not ever been done before 🙄" factor. 2) Because I think that it'd be way more compelling if they kept building up Millie in contrast to her family

The show wants you to know that she loves her family, she loves her family so damn much, but at the same time it's shown over and over again that everything she's gone on to achieve and build for herself in life clashes with that part of her, with a previous part of her life

It's not an unbridgeable gap

But I think that it's interesting how it always goes back to that with Millie. Her chosen career, her chose lifestyle

And part of it has to do with the class angle of hell: her inner struggle against the notion of being "just a wrathian", muscle with little to no prospects. And. Yeah, her parents' attitude is a glaring indication that this shit is pretty ingrained and transmitted from generation to generation, and not just something that's pushed onto imps from above

Sallie May shares this outlook as well. Why should her cool older sister who left the country behind and found herself a fancy job in the city bother with her (just a wrathian, muscle who's never left the farm)? Which counts as consistency points from me: similarities between two people who grew up in the same environment, yay

But the thing with Millie's family, her parents specifically, is. It's not just her career that they disapprove of

And again, it's not an unbridgeable gap, but I find it really interesting that the other thing that the show (s2) really hammers in about Millie is that she's deeply insecure, and I don't think that it's just because she's an imp. Her parents' disapproval of Moxxie is mostly framed as "haha, delicate little theatre fan ain't Man™ enough to win over the rugged in-laws", but the thing is... by stonewalling Moxxie they're indirectly rejecting Millie herself. And it kind of sucks that s1ep5 doesn't give her any space to react to her parents invalidating her life choices, a lot, but I can imagine that part of the vulnerability she displays in s2 finds its origin in that, in similar stances taken by Lin and Joe throughout her life

And to tie this all back to the pregnancy. It's never been directly addressed, but little things here and there tell us (or at least imply) that she was held responsible for many things back home, and I'd like it a lot if that experience was another brick in the "Millie loves her family but fuuuck if she's outta there (literally and metaphorically)" wall. Because she has her career that she loves, her husband that she loves, her friends that she loves, and she finds happiness and fulfilment in what she's carved for herself

[bnhaobservation]

@granny-griffin's tags say:

#I think “destroy everything” was an authentically shigaraki ideal#it might have been based on AFO’s influence#and shaped by tenko’s past experience#but AFO wanted a world to exist so he could rule it#shigaraki disagreed#anyway good meta OP#bnha#bnha manga#bnha spoilers#bnha manga spoilers#bnha meta

You raise an interesting point so I hope you’ll forgive me if I’ll tackle your tags.

Erase/destroy/make disappear what displease/disturb/hurt us is a basic human instinct. We just don’t want what makes us unhappy to exist.

Of course our wishes are part of the information we consider when taking an informed decision. However often they’re nowhere near enough information though to just be all we need to make an informed decision (otherwise back to the hospital example, all the doctor would need to get your informed consent would be to ask you if you’d like to be operated… and I doubt they would find many people who would like it unless they were to know the risks of not getting the operation).

That’s why, when one is a small kid, preschooler or even younger, they’re taught they can’t destroy/make disappear/murder/hit/erase what displease them and why. This is the INFORMATION a person needs to receive and that, when one is old enough to make INFORMED decision, influences said informed decision.

And this is where Tomura has problems because the information he was given was messed up from the start, from when he was Shimura Tenko.

In fact Tenko starts to have mixed information in his home, where we see Kotarou hates Heroes and his way to tackle the problem is to forbid the family from talking about it. Kotarou can’t really destroy Heroes but, in a way, he makes them ‘disappear’ from conversation, from his house. Also, if Tenko does something that displease him, he makes him ‘disappear’ from the house by closing him outside… and when he got really, really upset he hit 5 years old Tenko twice, hard enough to send him on the ground… and, as far as Tenko knows, no one said that was a wrong behavior.

When Tenko’s Quick kicks in, Kotarou, instead than worrying about his panicking kid like Nao did, is afraid of Tenko and hits him again with a garden tool giving Tenko a permanent scar (psychological and physical).

This time though, Tenko snaps and will answer in kind, repeating Kotarou’s behavior, and Kotarou will be the one to disappear (psychologically speaking a boy is taught to take his father as a role model and Kotarou just wasn’t a good role model).

Kotarou was already passing bad information to Tenko who, back then, was already aware his own hitch was tied to his father’s house (and therefore to his father in particular).

The information the other family members were giving Tenko weren’t great, as they fundamentally were all telling him to endure, which however didn’t solve Tenko’s problems at all. They weren’t bringing away a sense of distress so great it manifested in a psychosomatic hitch (it’s really a big deal when this happens, it’s not something that can be undervalued, basically it’s the brain’s way to scream “I can’t take this any longer, someone please help”).

When Tenko retaliates and Kotarou disappear, for a moment Tenko’s long standing problem is solved.

This is why he feels ecstasy, because his primary feeling is to feel joy at the resolution of such a problem. This is also the first information he receives from this experience, that removing something that gives you pain will bring you great joy, and that this will cause the hitch to disappear (as his source of psychological stress disappeared).

It won’t last. Once the euphoria for the disappearing of what hurt him is gone, guilt fills him because he has killed his own family. The information he was given by the other family members about how he should endure, tell him in no uncertain terms what he did was bad. The fact he has no more the rest of his family which he loves pains him. Tenko even thinks no one helps him because that’s punishment for what he did.

This would have probably been info good enough to counter the previous info he received. If destroying his father brought him joy because it seemed the end of his problems… well, he was mistaken, the hitch gets back (as now he has a new, BIGGER source of stress) and so the misery.

To destroy wasn’t the solution to escape pain, and so Tenko takes the informed decision of not destroying the people who doesn’t help him even if this hurt him, quite the contrary, we’ll see that when he remembers himself decaying his parents he feels sick, not euphoric.

Long story short, the information he collected from his experiences tell him destroying not only doesn’t chase away permanently the hitch but makes him feel guilty and sick. To destroy makes him feel much worse than not destroy.

If things were to stop here, Tenko would have never destroyed things again because even if he’s just 5 and his ability to take informed decisions is seriously limited, it’s enough to tell him that destroying would be the worse choice, the thing that would make him feel overwhelmingly WORSE, not better.

Things don’t stop here though.

Here is where AFO starts his work, reshaping the info Tenko has.

For start he worsen and keeps alive Tenko’s trauma, giving him his family’s hands and trying to force him to remember all that pain. Tenko’s brain can handle only so much pain, eventually, to protect itself, the brain represses those memories that hurt him (as you can see ‘erasing as much as possible what hurts us’ is a very ingrained mechanism in us). Eventually Tenko doesn’t remember anymore clearly what happened to his parents, so the info he collected, as they aren’t supported by experiences anymore (since he forgot those experiences), lose in strength.

AFO comes and brings things to the next level.

For start AFO reframes the hitch.

Tenko’s hitch was due to the stress he was feeling in his house, due to the pain that place gave him, due to the mistreatment he suffered.

AFO lies and tells him the hitch isn’t due to the distress he felt at home, no, it’s due to his inborn wish to destroy. If he doesn’t want the hitch, he has to destroy, it’s the only way to erase his suffering, he doesn’t have to endure. Likely this isn’t an one time thing, likely AFO repeated and expanded the idea over and over.

Eventually AFO sends Tenko to deal with some bullies. Tenko in the beginning endures, it’s not he doesn’t have the instinctive impulse to destroy whose who hurt him, as said before that’s an instinct that’s natural to have, it’s that he keeps it in check like any normal decent person as he subconsciously remembers the information his experiences led him to learn.

It won’t last because, as I said, he doesn’t have anymore the memory of those experiences that gave him those info.

AFO takes care to break his resistance, to fill him with info that say that resisting to such an impulse is wrong. He shouldn’t feel guilt, the fact such actions would be wrong is a mere fabrication, if he endures he’s the only one suffering.

AFO fills him with lies, takes advantage that the previous info that Tenko had are either forgotten or lie on forgotten memories and reshapes his beliefs.

Destroying is salvation, he’s born for it, he has the impulse for it, if he feels bad it’s because he has to let such an impulse free. He has to destroy what he hates or he’ll feel worse. His negative feelings fill Tenko but now he deals with them according to the info AFO gave him. He has to destroy what gives him pain and this WILL MAKE HIM FEEL BETTER. Hence he destroys and then he has mixed feelings over it because he says he feels sick but at the same time he feels calm and free (before, when he was rolling on the floor, he clearly felt only sick so this is an improvement). AFO’s brainwashing is starting to take over.

(and, of course in this scene it's raining because it symbolically represents the tears Tenko isn't able to shed anymore)

All this long speech to say that no, you aren’t wrong, Tenko, or better his adult version, Shigaraki Tomura, ultimately wished for the destruction of everything he hated and then he decided to carry on that wish.

Shigaraki Tomura’s informed decision, is based on what AFO taught him, that he has an impulse withing that tells him to destroy and that's why he has an hitch, that he must not endures his impulses, that doing so would make him pitiful and weak or he’ll suffer, that he shouldn’t feel guilty as the ideas that would make him feel guilty are fabrications, lie, that therefore HE MUST DESTROY what he hates.

This is no more a wish, this becomes the decision he takes and that's informed by all of AFO's lies.

But why would AFO encourage Tomura to pursue a path of destruction when AFO is clearly not interested in world destruction? AFO is interested in Tomura’s rage as somehow Tomura’s rage is fundamental to snatch away OFA.

So yes, Tomura’s wish to destroy the world was something AFO wanted because it kept him angry. It’s not that he’ll let Tomura destroy the world, of course he thinks he’ll possess him first, but this is another things he manipulated Tomura into.

I'll cut it here, otherwise I would end up repeating all I've said in the previous post on how ultimately AFO's manipulation ended up being internalized and became part of Tomura.

Sorry if before this part wasn't clear and also sorry if I took advantage of your tags to talk more about this topic, I hope it wasn’t a problem.

Where really Tenko’s choices not his own?

AFO ‘Yowai mama tsuyoku arou nado ā orokana Shimura Tenko. Omae wa ima made nani hitotsu erande nado inai noni.’’ AFO「弱いまま強くあろうなどああ愚かな志村転弧。おまえは今まで何一つ選んでなどいないのに。」’ AFO “Though you've become strong, you remain weak. Ahh, foolish Shimura Tenko. Even though until now you haven't chosen anything.’ [Chap. 418]

This is what AFO said to Tomura/Tenko at the end of chapter 418 and of course it sparked discussion because what is this supposed to mean? Of course Tomura/Tenko chose plenty of things, he had free will, hadn’t he? His body wasn’t always controlled by AFO, Tomura/Tenko took plenty of decisions or is this an attempt to take accountability from him?

To discuss this and what AFO really means I’m going to talk to you about something else.

Ever hear about informed consent?

When the hospital needs you to agree to undergo a certain treatment they don’t just need your consent, they need your INFORMED consent.

The informed consent process is an ethical and legal requirement for medical treatment. It ensures that you understand your diagnosis and your treatment options and agree to have specific medical treatment. This process involves ongoing and clear conversations between you and your healthcare provider. These conversations often lead to your decision to give (or not) consent for treatment. Informed consent protects your autonomy and your legal rights as a patient. Informed consent protects your ability to make your own decisions about medical treatment. It also protects your legal right to ask questions about recommended treatments.

And yeah, it also helps your healthcare provider but, for this discussion I’ll focus on what it does for you.

Basically, your decision to say ‘yes’ if you weren’t informed, is legally considered void of value. It doesn’t matter you freely said ‘yes’ if you weren’t informed your consent is not enough.

You might also have heard if you’re a minor even though you decide to give consent to some things, that consent holds no value.

Now you might wonder, where does this lead us?

Tomura/Tenko is not a minor nor he has to undergo under some medical procedure.

The mechanism behind decisions, behind choosing something, is always the same. We choose according to the information we have. Freedom of will isn’t the most important factor deciding our choices, it’s information and they dictate our choices to the point some can predict them.

We inform our decisions and opinions through experiences, be they personal or made just by observing others, through what people teach us be they our parents or our teachers or people we trust, through confronting with others be it in discussions or in arguments.

If you tell me I have to choose between eating a pear and an apple I’ll choose the apple because I know I hate pears but I like apples. This is my INFORMED decision.

If you however were to tell me the apple is poisoned I wouldn’t eat it because I don’t want to die, and this would also be my INFORMED decision.

If you were to lie to me and tell me the apple is perfectly safe to eat when it’s not, I would go back on eating the apple and this would be my INFORMED decision… and it would obviously suck because the information I was given was false.

In Tomura/Tenko’s case, what AFO is saying, is he’s behind each information about how the world work that Tomura/Tenko received.

He got his hands on Tenko when the latter was 5 but even before that age he began shaping the world around him, the experiences Tenko would make. When he took Tenko he told him to call him ‘sensei’ (先生). The English version translated it as “master” as it is a word with many translations but the more common translation is “teacher” which would fit more with how Tomura/Tenko asks him what will he teach him.

AFO taught Tomura/Tenko how he had to see and interpret the world, how he had to see and interpret himself and his feelings, how he had to see and interpret the others. He kept on filling Tomura/Tenko with information that were aimed at influencing Tomura/Tenko’s beliefs, perceptions, will.

AFO taught him that he had an impulse to destroy, that the itch is DUE TO IT instead than due to the abuse he was suffering in his home. That he shouldn't endure abuse or he'll be the only one to suffer, that coscience, morale, ethics are lies, fabrications.

Tomura/Tenko was a small kid, thanks to the trauma he forgot most of his past, which includes the teaching and experiences he had before, and AFO took care to keep always alive the trauma inside him.

Tomura/Tenko was mostly kept isolated, having solely the company of AFO, of Garaki and of Kurogiri. They were his source of ‘reliable’ information as he trusted them… only they were clearly not reliable.

But, you might say, what about the internet?

Tomura/Tenko has no net friends. AFO took care to give him a certain view of the world, so that every information Tomura/Tenko would receive through the web would be influenced by such view. Tomura/Tenko has no reason to doubt AFO, as far as he knows he’s his savior and caretaker and he has no one else.

If AFO tells him the net lies when it says All Might is a good person, that it’s wrong to destroy things, that it’s wrong to murder, why should Tomura/Tenko doubt AFO? Where are ‘reliable’ information telling him what AFO says is a lie, when the other people around him who take care of him (Garaki and Kurogiri) agree with AFO? Why should he trust the net, the people who abandoned him, over the people who’re so nice and caring toward him?

And the more time Tomura/Tenko is left in this world in which AFO is his main source of information the more those information become part of him, influence his perception of the world, his personality.

Remember when All Might first saw him and called him a ‘man-child’? It wasn’t a completely wrong definition, since Tomura/Tenko wasn’t really allowed to mentally grow by interacting with others who were his equal and presented different opinions and wills.

It's not he didn't have Quirk counselling what stilled his growth, it's not he didn't want to grow or something and that took advantage of the fact he had too much power which made him spoiled...

...what the Heroes didn't consider, mostly because they didn't really care WHY TOMURA/TENKO IS LIKE THAT was that it was trauma and manipulation that made him like that. Tomura/Tenko experienced the world and the battles through roleplay games not through real interactions.

AFO was always around him, shaping him, telling him he can do what he wants and that everything was for him and Tomura/Tenko has no reason to believe he was lying, has no reason to think his words though.

Tomura/Tenko decides, but as his choices are all informed by AFO and AFO lies to him, his choices are all dictated by wrong info and manipulated in a certain direction. Even if he's told he can do what he wants his choices aren’t really ‘free’ because he doesn’t really know what he’s choosing and what he’s rejecting, because he’s not informed correctly.

Yes, inside him there’s his own persona, he’s not a complete will-less doll, but this matters little when all the information he receives are manipulated and he has not the means to realize it and AFO knows it. He’s a master manipulator, he knows how to give Tomura/Tenko the belief he’s choosing of his own free will when it’s AFO who put such ideas and beliefs in his head.

Tomura/Tenko is 20 when he is first sent against All Might and can interact with people with a diametrically opposite mind setting compared to AFO.

Still Tomura/Tenko’s first confrontation with All Might is easy for him to dismiss, AFO raised him thinking Heroes and especially All Might are a certain type of people, so All Might’s words are easy to dismiss like empty rhetoric and pretty words (remember? one of the first things he was taught is that coscience, moral, ethics are fabrications that allow people [aka Heroes] to run the world smoothly) and All Might clearly didn’t act in such a way it would positively impress Tomura/Tenko.

Tomura/Tenko views him as a representative of state-sponsored violence and All Might can’t prove him wrong because… he has to use violence to protect everyone.

Tomura/Tenko wasn’t taught to care about the nobility of the mean, for him use of violence makes Villains and Heroes alike and yet they’re split in two groups… but most of what Tomura/Tenko says is something that’s not really coming from him but from AFO’s indoctrination. They aren’t really HIS ideals yet, even All Might realizes so.

What Tomura/Tenko has in that moment is hate for All Might and society. When Stain will force him to tell him which is his conviction, this is what Tomura/Tenko says, not all the rest. He hates All Might and society.

AFO’s indoctrination was meant to manipulate him into believing why he hates them, but the truth is what Midoriya will nail at the end, society and All Might didn’t save him when he was an innocent child, not yet a Villain, and left him miserable. His father, AFO, they all told him this happened because Heroes and society are fundamentally bad. Due to this teaching Tomura/Tenko hates them with a passion, because he feels victimized by them. They’re the cause of his misery.

Stain’s words are harder to ignore as Stain is no Hero and Kurogiri wanted them to join forces and yet Stain attacked him… but then let him live. All of sudden someone who’s not a Hero makes something unpredictable. Tomura/Tenko tried to compete with him and loses, everyone is impressed by Stain and not by him and makes wrong assumptions on them. Touya and Himiko comes to him but he doesn’t understand their behavior. Ultimately he talks with Midoriya.

The talk doesn’t dramatically change him, it merely helps him to reframe everything in a familiar contest. It’s All Might’s fault, he decides, and this is what AFO taught him, but he doesn’t realize he’s parroting what his master taught him.

Ironically, his talk with Midoriya actually helps him to internalize, to interiorized what AFO taught him, because now HE HAD TO PONDER OVER THE SITUATION AND CONFRONT WITH SOMEONE ELSE, which is the first step to makes ideas your own as now they would come from you… but since he tackles that confrontation using the tons of info AFO poured into him and Midoriya is just a kid who makes wrong assumptions of him… well, the result ends up being that now Tomura/Tenko doesn’t just merely absorb AFO’s information but embraces them as if they were his own ideas.

This is what AFO wanted when he said there’s no point in simply telling Tomura/Tenko  an answer but that he needs to reach the conclusion himself.

In a way it’s a test to see if all the wrong information he has given him for years now really live inside him and have become his own. AFO knows that now that Tomura/Tenko is a man, albeit one kept immature, if he has succeeded in influencing him then it would be difficult to completely change his mind after 15 years of manipulations.

He’s not wrong, to completely change Tomura/Tenko’s mind would be difficult… but it isn’t impossible to partially change it, especially since Tomura/Tenko will then keep on interacting with the League… and won’t interact anymore with AFO so that AFO won’t manage anymore to teach him how to interpret his experiences.

In this new contest free of AFO the little of Tomura/Tenko’s original personality kind of come back to life, the League become precious friends he wants to protect. Ironically Tomura/Tenko, who hates Heroes because they abandoned him, want to be a Hero for the League. He doesn’t want to be their master or their ruler, all things AFO wants to be, Tomura/Tenko wants to be a Hero.

AFO used to say everything is all for him but now Tomura/Tenko wants everything to be for his companions, when he’ll submit Re-Destro he’ll ask suchi for them because they wanted it, he won’t force Touya to do what he doesn’t want to do, he promises he won’t destroy what Himiko loves, he let Shuuichi get angry at him.

Tomura is taking some choices that don’t come from AFO and could have taken more if he were to be given more time as he already wanted to be different from AFO and AFO’s attempt to take over his body as well as the revelation he manipulated him likely would have pushed Tomura/Tenko to reconsider everything he knew that influenced his mind and his decisions.

However plenty of what he chooses through the story come from AFO, from how he had taught him to see and feel the world, from the experiences he forced him to go through. We see it in the first war. AFO fed Kotarou’s resentment for Nana, which lead to Tenko’s abuse, AFO made sure Tomura/Tenko wandered for the city while no one helped him and when Tomura/Tenko faces the Heroes he quotes what he learned from that experience, that Heroes hurt their families to save strangers, that society is trash he says as he thinks back at how no one helped him. Society would always reject him, he says strong of his experiences which were manipulated by AFO. AFO taught him he has to free his violent impulses his wish for destruction that whatever tells him the contrary is a lie fabricated by society (chap. 237). Tomura wants to destroy because that’s how AFO taught him he has to fight the pain inside himself. Because he thinks his decaying Quirk is a reflection of his own personality, of his own role. He’s born to destroy… and this idea, as well as his Quirk… well they both come from AFO (and society, to be honest, as society tended to judge people’s personalities tied with their Quirk).

So, where this leaves us?

Tomura/Tenko did make some small choices that didn’t come from AFO… but too much of him come from AFO to the point if AFO had never meddled with his life he would have likely grown into a completely different person, with a completely different set of experiences and information that would inform his decisions.

As we don’t know which experiences and information he would have had, we can’t tell who he would have become (for example AFO gave him the decay Quirk and this influenced him into thinking he’s born to destroy but we don’t know which was his original Quirk. If he were to have a Quirk which also destroyed, he could have come to the same conclusion). Maybe he would have turned into a Hero, maybe he would have turned into an ordinary person, maybe he would have turned into an even worse Villain. Wondering over this is material for fanfics not for meta.

What remains true though is that way too many of present Tomura/Tenko’s important choices come from AFO, from what AFO taught him, that he shaped so much of his persona and actions that what AFO says about Tomura/Tenko never choosing anything is only partially incorrect at the end of the story and probably completely true at the start of it.

So yeah, as unpleasant as it is there’s a huge part of truth in AFO’s words… but it could have turned into a lie had Tomura/Tenko been given more time because, first he was freed of AFO’s influence and free to interact with others and second because AFO revealed his game and made clear he wanted to take over Tomura/Tenko’s body so he wasn’t the caring and disinterested benefactor he painted himself to be for 20 years and Tomura/Tenko didn’t have to take his words as reliable anymore.

A complete turn over would have probably been hard without a positive influence in his life, but for sure Tomura/Tenko would have been free to revaluate all he’d been taught by AFO and judge it again through the lenses of those new info.

But well, in the end he died so we’ll never learn what he could have done, which is just sad.

So is Tomura/Tenko innocent because manipulated?

There’s a part of the world population that think that inborn in humans there’s still the ability to choose between right and wrong even if they’re manipulated… and in real life it’s extremely hard to establish how much manipulated can be a person and how much it was due to them. Many don’t want to think that you can take a perfectly normal child and turn him into a serial killer through carefully raising him as such.

Discussing about this would be a minefield that would require psychological and educational degrees and probably would still see experts arguing because we can’t really test this theory and check if a baby is perfectly psychologically healthy and then try to raise him as a psychopath, and repeat the experience until we’ve enough data to judge, can we?

Real life cases weren’t cases which were carefully observed from start to end as an experiment would require so they leave the door open to speculation.

Long story short… this meta isn’t here to tell you if a real person can be raised and manipulated that much all his choices come from another and he’s unable to take them for himself.

This is a meta to tell you that from what we know and what we could observe Tomura/Tenko was manipulated from young age and that the majority of his life choices, especially the ones that lead him to become a Villain, were due to this.

Not that it would have made any difference in the BNHA world where Aoyama, a teen acting under duress, is viewed as a terrible Villain because, when threatened to be killed and have his parents killed if he weren’t to comply with AFO’s wishes, he choose to comply.

[lemonduckisnowawake]

I just want to make clear something

Vampire Books I'm Interested In

literally anything platonic, ZERO ROMANCE. The zero is very important. Not low. Not a little. Not background. Zero. None. Nada. 전혀 없어야데.

if it must be romantic, at least it shouldn't take itself seriously or be Dramatic and Thematic or have the romance NOT be between the vampire and human. The vampire should be their weird friend who sometimes bites whipped cream cans or honey bottles as a nervous tic

Blood, Gore, Violence, Viscera, Alllll the Guts and mess

if there must be an age gap, consider how funny it would be if the human was older than the vampire

"i am not a vampire. Vampires cannot be Christian. The fact that I hate sunlight, hate garlic, and that my hand is burning as I clutch the cross around my neck that is ONLY BY FASHION CHOICE covered by a turtleneck is NOT AN INDICATION OF ANYTHING!"

if there must be a sexy blood drinking scene, consider how funny sexy it would be if the vampire sips his blood from a wineglass like some tired, adhd, chaotic lawful detective trying to crack a hard case because obviously there is nothing sexier than that

"no. I'm not 'magic.' I'm actually a biological construction created for the purpose of carrying different bloodtypes in me to administer it in emergency cases during this space and matter war. The fact that I am a failed product does NOT negate the fact that I'm not magic. I am *science*" which is to say sci fi vampires

Honestly, just go back into the original lore of vampires and make them bloodthirsty but so calculating. After seeing what Frieren did with demons, we really are missing out on monsters who use the power of words to lure in prey

Vampire Books I'm NOT Interested In

"Bloodsucking is so sexy and intense and dangerous. You want to let me suck your blood so bad. Literally. Please. I will die without blood." Go get a blood transfusion and stop gaslighting women with your easily preventable life or death situations. No, I don't care if vampires are illegal citizens. Just rip out the government leaders' throats and establish a tyrrany where an adventure begins where peoole realize that revenge and violence only creates cyclical cruelty and -

"I will reform this vampire through the power of love and blood."

If it has a shirtless man cover and/or a couple cover, I am automatically suspicious of it

Yes that DOES mean Magiford falls under this. My point stands

However, I will read any and all of these if I'm feeling evil enough and need a victim to target

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

I'm not ready to shut up about Aveline and Carver--so, when you go see Aveline in Act 1, you can catch up with her a little bit and that's where this conversation can happen:

Aveline: "It's just one more change, though. The real end for me was Ostagar. What about you, Carver? You were there. Do you feel something similar?" Carver: No. Aveline: All right, then. Bit of a tit, your brother.

I wanted to see what she would say if Carver isn't in the party. Instead, she says this:

Aveline: Carver was there. I imagine he feels something similar. If he allows it.

......well, at least she didn't call him a tit?

[ame-to-ame]

RAHHH DO I HAVE THOUGHTS

[araraito]

Is it normal for a therapist to be like "Aww but you are so young and pretty, things can't be that bad :)"

[lilacerull0]

i feel like reading/watching mbf immediately means knowing who i am as a person and... i cannot allow this

[dreadful-luck]

GGS TEAM PAST!!!

[ghostieblotts]

So many projects I want to work on, so much planning to do for fun trips, so much holiday fun imminent, and not enough time

[edge-oftheworld]

going back through some of this fandom's history has made me realise, we really see people as black and white good or bad don't we?