#i like some of the lower tier pieces better than some of the higher tier ones too so im not too disappointed when i dont pull a 4 or 5 star

[kittykatinabag]

Mark my words, the next country/area we're getting in Infinity Nikki is Cicia.

[adamworu]

The Subtle Horror of Evangelion

What keeps us all hooked to Eva time and time again? You get through your initial, confused watch of either Evangelion endgame, probably sometime in your adolescence wondering what the hell it is you just watched. The original source material is suffused with unsettling imagery, and sometimes too-close-for-comfort shorts. It’s so much to process that one watch is never enough. The imagery isn’t enough, however, because the mid-to-late-90s series comes with things you’ll pick up the more you focus on certain characters’ struggles or the interesting world-building. They arise little by little with every re-watch, adding onto what interested you in Eva to begin with.

There’s always that little voice asking you “What it is that really draws me here?”

Oh. The horrors.

The tragedy of it all.  

These things never leave you the second you bear witness to them, whether you become aware of them or not. You’re disturbed over it, a tad worried, no doubt, but you’re strangely hooked.

Horror works better on limitation, it’s why found footage capturing pale, ghastly, monstrosities of the deep wood will always stand as exponentially terrifying. While most all of us have taken cracks at Eva’s budget at some point, that’s what really drives these terrors home. Its low budget nature made it work.

Evangelion has commentary which forces a viewer to reflect. Most no one enjoys that. It’s the fear, however, that has its audience come back. Evangelion’s reflection alone isn’t what gives Eva it’s charm decades after its run. It’s the little things, most everyone misses, the anxieties, the terrors, all of it. Most of those things, fly over a lot of fans’ heads.

Buckle up, there’s a lot to go through…. (warning for mentions of abuse, body horror, means of suicide, nudity, blood, and gore)

Table of Contents

I. Icebergs for Dummies

Tier 1: The Tip of the Iceberg

II. The Hedgehog’s Dilemma

III. The AT-Field as a Universal Metaphor

IV. Kensuke Aida + War Idealism

V. Shinji is the Audience Surrogate

VI. Abuse in Evangelion

Tier 2: Just Below the Tip

VII. The Infamous Elevator Scene

VIII. Naoko + Casper

IX. The Other End of Existential Horror

Tier 3: The Body of The Iceberg

X. War Horrors of ‘Ambivalence’

XI. Unit-01 Berserk Scene

XII. Dummy Plugs + CNS

XIII. Kaworu + Adam’s True Power

Tier 4: Pre-Abyss

XIV. The “Nihilist” Lens

XV. The True Nature of Sync Rates

XVI. Unit 01+ MPE Gorging Scenes

XVII. Ancient Ruins of Arka

Tier 5: The Abyss

XVIII. Split Second Misato Death

XIX. Humans Are The Villains in Eva

XX. The Ultimate Paradox

XXI. Conclusion

I. Icebergs for Dummies

For those unaware, the iceberg image illustrates that things are much deeper than they appear, just like an actual iceberg. You’ve probably seen this selfsame iceberg--- separated by tiers--- a few times looking through late night internet rabbit holes (Putting it out in the open: I’m personally guilty of this!), fictional or non. It helps you understand why you’re so enticed to certain material, that you’d revisit them. The highest parts of the iceberg are the things in the material most everyone knows, the surface level stuff. The lower you go, however, the lesser known the parts of the material are. These are the things the person are aware of.

Eva has some iceberg illustrations if you look around, albeit they don’t go through the more saddening, sometimes graphic factors of Eva, only theories navigating through Eva’s universe. Evangelion is so deceptively packed with blink-and-you’ll-miss-it subtleties that if an iceberg were centered on that, the diagram would be packed. And I’m being generous as I write this.

A few ground rules, before we begin: The iceberg will deal with the more obscure and dark material as the tiers get higher rather than it only being relegated to obscure bits. The lower the tier, the higher the iceberg and the more subtler the anxieties which graduate into horrors the deeper you go.

Yes, Evangelion is occasionally horrifying. No, Evangelion is not lovecraftian. I think people use the term lovecraftian way too freely. It’s not enough to see something with (sometimes too many) limbs twisted in ungodly angles. Or legs where legs shouldn’t be. The same applies for creatures assuming forms we don’t entirely comprehend. Eva has never delved into the angels being incomprehensibly terrifying specifically because they come from a cosmic expanse.

Some of these actual horrors, big and small,  hit you after adolescence, something that makes you feel deeply for the characters’ dilemmas. It’s a feeling that grows and sometimes aches, rather than fades over time for many of us.

Tier 1: The Tip of the Iceberg

II. Hedgehog’s Dilemma

III. The AT Field as a Universal Metaphor

IV. Kensuke Aida + War Idealism

V. Shinji As the Audience Surrogate

VI. Abuse in Evangelion

II. Hedgehog’s Dilemma

Evangelion has its hand in so many psychological and philosophical cookie jars, from Freud, to Maslow, Johari, as well as Dostoevsky. The very tip of the Subtle Horrors of Evangelion Iceberg is something viewers are introduced to in the fourth episode of the series. It is one of the many psychological concepts dotted throughout the original show. Out of all those psychological concepts, this is the most explicit and most recurring.

The Hedgehog’s Dilemma describes the conundrum of two hedgehogs. The closer two hedgehogs become to one another, the more they harm each other with their spines. If you want to properly live, you need the closeness and intimacy of others. By allowing yourself to be close, however, you end up at great risk of being hurt. It’s the very reason what drives those who live to become guarded. Being perpetually apprehensive or building up walls isn’t a remedy for pains, however. The Hedgehog’s Dilemma isn’t just about why people become guarded after relationships ended on bad notes. It’s about the overall inevitability of pain.

Life is a continual push-pull of relationships, because we’re all creatures of comfort. We guard ourselves to varying degrees and sometimes even tell ourselves we won’t get close again, but personal comfort is one of our most ultimate drives.

The Hedgehog’s Dilemma not only describes that harm happens to us anyway, but illustrates that because comfort is universal we seek companionship regardless.

III. The AT-Field as a Universal Metaphor

The AT-Field is the most crucial rabbit hole in understanding the largest meta-narrative of Evangelion.

If Hedgehog’s Dilemma explains the what and the why people become more or less guarded, then AT-Fields explain the how. People build up walls around themselves all the time. You walk away from someone because they crack a smile at you... and it seems off.

Because you feel an anxious pang.

That’s an AT Field.

AT-Fields, or Absolute Terror Fields bear a few metaphors, one of which being boundaries. You see it as Shinji’s fear of becoming intimate, knowing the future implications or Asuka’s masculine protest (putting up a front). We can see an excellent example of the AT Field used by Asuka, her “Wall of Jericho” in episode 9.

You also see it manifested through the angels, the strange creatures in Eva who supposedly desire to merge with Adam, their mother. Seeing this in the angels makes you realize that the AT Field is actually a metaphor for boundaries which implicates us all. In episode 22, Arael, 15th angel, seeks to understand Asuka. The angel uses its AT-Field (a beam of light) no, its boundary, to breach Asuka’s boundaries. 

AT-Fields can be used to not only build up personal walls but to breach them as well. The irony of Arael’s action is that Arael’s AT-Field being erected while it floats just over Earth’s gravitational field makes it immensely similar to the Second Child; they’re both guarded.

The AT-Field is a funny sort of thing because it also sometimes explains how two people who are so alike can be guarded from one another. Sometimes you gain contempt for someone because they’re too much like your least favorable traits. You see this with Shinji and Asuka, both children without their mother desiring validation. Shinji calls Asuka a child midway into episode 9 and Asuka isn’t shy on voicing ideas of Shinji as dense or immature. They’re throwing stones in glass houses.

AT Fields are used to get the user out of dangers both physical and perceived. Sachiel, 3rd angel in the original series’ pilot episode, uses its AT-Field, in the form of flotation, to get itself from enemy fire. It never shows this until it is attacked first.

AT Fields are also responsible for one’s identity and physicality in Eva. Without the AT Field you don’t really exist. When Rei assumes the form of the person the character being cast into Instrumentality loved most in End of Evangelion, she’s causing the character to give up their AT Field. With that gone, they lose their physicality, turning into LCL (given the lovely term ‘tanged’ by fans). The ‘tanged’ individual suffers metaphorical death. Evangelion argues that in order for one to exist, others must perceive you and you must perceive you, a point best illustrated in episode 16. Since everyone is converted to LCL, no one really ‘exists.’ Rei describes this unnerving state as the inability of differentiating who you are and others, since everyone lacks a physical state without AT-Fields. Metaphorical death can be argued as worse than physical, since we all exist to make an impression of some sort. It’s what ties all the Eva cast together and the cause of their dilemmas. Validation. You can be living, yet very much forgotten or simply unknown.

There is living and there is “living.”

You can’t “die” unless someone knows you. You were never there. AT Fields are the thing that make us live, but as a drawback, prevents us from understanding each other fully. Kaworu states in episode 24 that AT Fields are the wall of the mind and the heart of the soul, an unapproachable piece of sanctuary. When all else is taken from us, all we have left is our place of respite.

I’d also like to pitch the saddening reality that the AT-Fields are what prevent us from understanding angels as a whole, our genetic siblings as scared of this world as we are. The psychological angels want to understand us, that much is true. The angels, however, use forms of communication at the expense of our boundaries. Because people greatly value boundaries it makes it hard for us to comprehend angels. The creatures are hardly malicious when you realize they wonder why we all do things that actually hurt us, as well as the fact that they do understand our minds. But, because they breach our boundaries, we become even more wary of the (mostly) unknown. Angels may be us, but the strange forms they take are something we aren’t familiar with. The feeling is mutual with angels, wondering why there are many of us, our forms and outward appearances so identical. It’s a truth as old as time that we all fear the unknown.

The anxiety of an AT Field means comprehending that there’s very little chance to 100% get others. Because we’re all wary in some degree, because we’re set in an idea or perception of someone, even if the someone in the past no longer applies. It’s not healthy for you to continue dwelling on relationships not meant to be, keeping yourself up at night asking why, because both of you have closed off each other for good. There’s always that chance the other can come back and if they do seek to understand despite past hardships, that’s good. If they don’t, all you can do is move on and accept it.

IV. Kensuke Aida + War Idealism

Kensuke is one of Shinji’s classmates, a supporting player in the series. He’s close with Toji Suzuhara, a boy who takes his anger on Shinji, after finding out that his sister has been injured during Shinji’s fight with 3rd angel Sachiel. As Suzuhara beats him down, Kensuke downplays the incident. Kensuke’s and Toji’s relationship is particularly interesting because the latter is affected to some degree by war (the war by humanity to prevent our destruction by angels). Kensuke glorifies the sentient, implicitly eldritch, multi-armored war-machines.

Kensuke can be best described as the ‘wow, cool robots’ drawing you’ve probably seen floating around. This is in relation to Gundam’s war commentary, but replace Gundam with Eva. Kensuke is enamored with the Evangelions and totally, willfully ignorant to the war horrors. Adolescents are forced to be the salvation of humanity, feeling every bit of damage to their own bodies whenever the Evangelion takes any hurt. Even after the war for humanity is long over, the pilots will be afflicted with traumas that will always hang over them.

Kensuke’s glorification is also what draws him to be Shinji’s friend. He uses Shinji’s status as a way of becoming a pilot himself by meeting up with Misato, putting himself at the cockpit of a strange creature magnificent machine.

When Toji becomes hospitalized after his battle in a hijacked Unit-03 vs. A Dummy System-controlled Unit-01, Kensuke expresses discontent at not being a pilot. He’s annoyed because “everyone” but him is a pilot.

Thing is, Kensuke isn’t heartless, just ignorant. Idealism is one of the uglier things that runs thick in the heart of Evangelion. His is one of many cases of unhealthy idealism in Eva, another example of making it difficult for those living to understand one another.

V. Shinji as the Audience Surrogate

Shinji as the audience surrogate isn’t always touched up on, but is sort of understood subconsciously by a lot of the viewers. Shinji’s character is specific, yet so generalized that him being a surrogate for the audience just… works. Don’t believe me? Shinji gets two psychological exploration-based episodes whereas Asuka and Rei each have one. Episodes 16 and 24 are both psychological angel episodes, albeit the latter is more in-series subversive. The 24th episode doesn’t involve a breach of subconscious boundary, but the pilot (Shinji) is in the hot-seat, being made aware of their issues. Leliel, 12th angel, contacts Shinji in the former of these. Both characters talk to one another, shown as a series of horizontal lines and vertical lines, sometimes intersecting. These lines are a strong reference to the Johari Window, a tool in psychology which helps someone become more aware of themselves. The Window’s quadrants are as follows

1. the part known to the self

2. the part known to others

3. the part known to the self and others

4. the part known to no one

Leliel also states that the self only exists of one perceives themselves as well as others. The angel also states that Shinji could better his reality, to which Shinji absolves himself of responsibility by arguing the horrible state of his reality. It’s a subtle pushing to Shinji and by extension the viewer into free will. Kaworu builds up on these concepts with Eva’s in-universe concept for boundaries. Free Will versus Determinism is brought up here, with the idea that AT-Fields are brought up because the living (again, not people – emotional complexities aren’t only human) will them into existence. By exercising free will, it means enduring pain, one of Shinji’s, and again the audience’s greatest fears. Any relationship has pains and conflicts. This is all a buildup of free will, determinism, self-awareness, and the Hedgehog’s Dilemma. Understanding all of these means swallowing the “pain is inevitable” pill. The problem with much of us is that we like the idea of relationships rather than being in one. We want to feel validated but without the conflict, even if the conflict can be solved. We’re all Shinji because we’re all aware to life’s hellish catch-22s, so we run. There’s times in our lives where we run as far as possible from these woes, these truths, but there’s pain in running too. It’s why escapism seems like such a viable action for some of us.

Pain is inevitable, but pain can be mitigated.

More damning evidence to Shinji being a viewer stand-in lies in either endgame of Evangelion (pun intended). In EoE, after the Komm Susser Tod sequence of everyone on Earth being tanged, we’re treated to a shot of EoE’s live audience.

We hear Shinji’s voice about his reality while he talks to Rei toward EoE’s end. There are shots of the city, of people going about their daily lives cementing that this is about us. End of Evangelion shows us a less favorable side of Shinji, a departure from the lauded end series “Congratulations” scene, in which he does understand free will rather than perpetually dwell on negatives. Shinji reacts unfavorably toward Asuka in EoE after his mother’s speech to the audience that ‘anywhere can be paradise’ and Shinji stating he doesn’t know where his happiness resides. Shinji (We) still has a ways to go if he wants to be a better person.

It’s probably why many of us are either inclined to champion Shinji or harangue him, and either reaction is fair. Many of us are aware of audience surrogates, but never to this extent. Shinji isn’t his best person, but he can be. Being his best means self-reflection. Droves of people who first were exposed to Evangelion were teens, and again many of Shinji’s woes are specific yet so generalized, hence our feelings of defense and possibly disgust.

No one likes scathing, yet accurate call-outs on their person, but they’re paramount for us to understand ourselves and others.

VI. Abuse in Evangelion

One of the worst things recurring in all of original Evangelion is a bevvy of abuses.

Abuse comes in many shapes and forms and it’s many characters’ realities. Abuse happens not because the universe ‘wills it’ (determinism aka, ‘that’s just how people are’). Abuse, be it conscious emotional absence, actual neglect, among other ungodly acts fly though the cast.

Abuse is cyclical and a lot of those doing it often get away with murder because they have power.

Much of Eva is comprised of children being forced to sort through adults’ emotional baggage. Those children become adults and the cycle continues.

We all know a Gendo. Or even perhaps a Misato. Hell, even a Ritsuko.

Anno states that Gendo’s character is of a societal meta-text, which explains many viewers’ ire in relation to the character.  He’s responsible for many of the seedy goings-on in Evangelion be it the financial (see: Jet Alone’s orchestrated out-of-control nature to give NERV more funding) or abuses (see: Rei, Shinji, Ritsuko, and, Naoko). It’s for this reason why Gendo’s actions are a sore spot for a lot of fans.

Anno: I’m not sure that it’s a real father [that Gendo represents]. Well, not a father in the sense of a parent with a blood relation to his child, but more, I think, [in the sense of being] a representative of society or the system. That’s why he has that expression.

Takekuma: So, he’s kind of amorphous.

Anno: The angels are the same. I made them appear amorphous in that way because, for me, society is unclear, the enemy is unclear.

Takekuma: Gendo is [a representation of] the boundries or the pressure of society itself.

Anno: That might be it. Perhaps Gendo is [a representation of] society itself.

http://wiki.evageeks.org/Statements_by_Evangelion_Staff

After many re-watches of certain Eva episodes, it just hit me, as I’m writing this why I’m sometimes apprehensive on an adult-exclusive lens of the show. This happens a lot in adolescence and our struggles are made trivial because of the mishandled baggage. As children, you’re meant to be subservient to parental whims. You have this sort of obligation to solve their problems. Give them closure. It doesn’t even need to be parental baggage, but just from adults in general. You see the way the adults act not just with the children but with each other. You see the way Gendo justifies neglecting Shinji, objectifying Naoko and Ritsuko or Naoko’s emotional absences as a mother to her daughter (also manifested through the MAGI). It’s these immature excuses as to why they can’t extend empathy to those around them.

It’s always excuses.

Eva’s original series has always been a show about children.

Tier 2: Just Below the Tip

VII. The Infamous Elevator Scene

VIII. Naoko + Casper

IX. The Other End of Existential Horror

VII. The Infamous Elevator Scene

The Elevator Scene is a sequence that sometimes gets glossed over due to Evangelion’s fleeting budget.  It took me years to realize the true gravity of the awkward silence of both the 22nd episode and its Director’s Cut version. The Director’s Cut version has Asuka abruptly jerking in the silence,  but that blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment speaks volumes. Understanding the scene means understanding why Asuka quietly stews in her anger. Understanding why Asuka stews means understanding Asuka from her debut to her emotional breakdown.

Asuka’s appearance in the 8th episode, Asuka Strikes!, is marked by a bold persona that carries on until the end. She isn’t shy on imparting her prowess to Shinji, stating that Units 00 as well as 01 were the prototype and the test type, respectively. Her Evangelion, Unit-02 is the finished product. She even states that she graduated from university. Despite these impressive feats so early in adolescence, the only time in which they’re noted is when Asuka talks of them. Misato takes in both Shinji and Asuka, but only ever “dotes” on Shinji. Gendo pays attention to Shinji because he pilots Unit-01, and 01 contains the soul of his late wife. Rei is the clone of Gendo’s late wife, hence Gendo’s attention and overall creepy, selfish obsession with her. Asuka and Shinji’s relationship, with Misato as their caretaker strongly mimics a Golden Child and the Second Fiddle. The only difference is, Shinji gains more attention due to Gendo’s and Misato’s respective baggage. Again, Eva is a series where children are forced to handle the baggage (with no break in the cycle) and when the child doesn’t have anything the adult particularly can clue in on, they become neglected.

That’s Asuka’s dilemma.

It’s why Asuka forces herself to grow up.

It’s why Asuka is driven to be competitive to Shinji and Rei, later growing contemptible at both.

Asuka suffers a few curses, one of which being the youngest, the inevitability of being consciously sidelined dawns on her, leading to her selfsame breakdown toward series’ end. She aligns youth with trivialization, so naturally, she’d front with the opposite. She never gets help in relation to her period. Misato and Ritsuko realize something is up with Asuka but they never really offer her the support.

There’s also the flashback to her trauma in episode 22’s beginning. She’s replaced by her mother post-Contact Experiment (which led to a deterioration of her mental health) via a doll that looks like her, red hair in pigtails. It’s the leading factor to her feigned boldness, her ego. The way in which she is marginalized in the series brings it all back.

Rei breaks the silence with a few words of compassion and all Asuka can do is express disbelief. She mistakes compassion for contempt.

For pity.

The idea that anyone would extend kindness, especially now of all times, is unbelievable.

Asuka also experiences a dilemma here, a dilemma those like her face. She already knows what it means to be vulnerable and deeply hurt, but she needs to make herself vulnerable because now, more than ever, she needs the support. Being vulnerable will cause past traumas to flood back in full force, but by stewing she deprives herself of any support. Rei offers that support, but a few words of support in a wave of trivialization can’t help but feel a bit too strange.

Asuka’s greatest anxiety is realized in the twenty second episode. It’s of being and staying second fiddle, that she’s always been set up to fail. Even 2 episodes after the fact,  in which she actually starves herself does she realize once more how she’s permanently ‘below’ others.

Asuka’s curse finds itself in real life, and it’s for that reason why I believe some find themselves resonating with her. Asuka’s gradual descent into bitterness is something I find myself waking up some nights thinking about after 7 years going through Eva; hers is a cautionary tale on being emotionally distant to cries of a damaged youth. Casually imparted knowledge of past achievements, and the competitive attitude mixed with embitterment, some of which from a genuine place but also a product of neglect. We were forced to play second fiddle, we forced ourselves to grow up to feel more legitimate, forced to carry an ire that stews because it seems no one listens.

VIII. Naoko+Casper

The late Naoko Akagi is a woman of multitudes. Those multitudes are compartmentalized into the 3 MAGI. They are Balthasar, Melchior, and Casper.

Casper shows itself to be the most prominent aspect of Naoko’s personality, her as a woman. Ritsuko states that, after the defeat of Iruel, 11th angel, that Casper is the part of her mother which remained that way to the end.

Balthasar and Melchior have been bested, be it by rival MAGI, or Iruel’s assault. This calls back to the fact that Naoko’s other facets aren’t anywhere near as prominent. Naoko has cited her own emotional negligence, of only showing emotions should it ever benefit her.

Casper on 3 occasions fights tooth and nail, Iruel’s assault, an attack by multiple MAGI in End of Evangelion or the defiance of Ritsuko activating the self-destruct sequence. Ritsuko does this to seek vengeance against Gendo for coming to the immense realization that he never genuinely cared for her. Gendo has always used Ritsuko for her body. This would destroy NERV, meaning killing herself and Gendo.

Then you realize why Casper overrides the sequence.

Casper’s stubborn behavior wasn’t actually to defend NERV but to protect Gendo. Casper’s defiance aka Naoko’s emotional absence toward her daughter allowed Gendo to kill a bewildered, rightfully angered Ritsuko.

The saddest part of Casper’s, no, Naoko’s choice is that Naoko got away with murder. Evangelion is a story about children dealing with the selfishness of adults and the adults never receiving justice for their wrongdoings. The relationship between Ritsuko and Naoko is an excellent example that this doesn’t just implicate the young pilots. Ritsuko dies in End of Evangelion with the truth that her mother, as a woman, in the end chose the man who manipulated both of them.

IX. The Other End of Existential Horror

Some spend their whole lives trying to make a mark. Others can’t help but be known.

People get smart sometimes to get themselves out of a current situation. Kaworu and Rei’s existences are such that they’re deadlocked from living. Their existences are the product of an experiment, to be later heavily watched and raised as the Last Messenger. The latter is the result of Gendo’s obsession with his late wife.

Kaworu and Rei’s existential crises are opposite from the rest of the cast; while others do their damndest to become known, they cannot be unknown. Rei’s character centering more around her identity than other characters is also initially and sneakily alluded in the opening.

The Johari Window is a tool encouraging self-awareness in the person, alluded to twice in the show, with the second time being in the sixteenth episode. Both usages of that illustration, for Rei, and Shinji drive home crucial aspects of the meta-text.

This would also tie Rei to Shinji in End of Evangelion forcing Shinji to reflect on his own awareness and will. Rei is an astute, young girl whose arc is about her personal relationship with identity, something she is all too familiar with due to her objectified nature. Rei’s arc is even more so entrenched in identity than other characters that she is one of the characters imparting personal and universal realities.

Ayanami Rei’s existence from start to finish is inundated with the issues of others, causing her to internalize being always expendable. In Rei’s Poem in episode 14, it becomes clear that she sees herself based on usage. She likens herself to a field of flowers, which slyly alludes to the Dummy System’s “parts” 9 episodes later, other Reis.

  Rei is seen as malleable vessel which houses thoughts rather than her own person and she can’t do anything about it. So she resigns to her reality. Even if she does tell off Gendo in End of Evangelion for his objectifying, she’s not even out of the woods. She never will be.

I used to think Rei’s “slap” to the face to the man with the (most) baggage was empowering. Then I learned about abuse during adolescence, how kids who lack a support system act while away from their abusers. Even saying an emphatic “fuck you” to your abusers isn’t enough to be a happy ending. Rei is a girl who lacks a support system and she suffers from it. Start to finish.

Kaworu’s crises are much trickier to pinpoint because there’s so little to work with. He doesn’t get an episode dealing with personal, subconscious explorations. Getting his character means first getting how Evangelion re-contextualizes what “Ode to Joy” symbolizes. It also means understanding the AT-Field and most people won’t pick that up on an initial foray. Or maybe even a second. Most people don’t pick up that the AT Field implicates anything living and physical or its metaphor for boundaries and identity. There’s the common misconception that Evangelion is a “human” show.

Kaworu marks off his appearance humming “Ode to Joy” while Shinji wonders who to turn to. It’s a song generally known for its jovial nature, but most importantly, Ode to Joy is:

known also as the “Choral” Symphony. Its finale is a musical setting of Friedrich von Schiller ’s “Ode to Joy,” a hymn to the unity and freedom of humanity.

http://www.dictionary.com/browse/ninth-symphony

The Choral Symphony assumes a more horrific context later on. Kaworu is the last messenger and what his action is would lead to the mass annihilation to lilin/human or angels. ‘Unity of man’ is changed in Eva’s context – it marks either unity of man or the death of man. It doesn’t matter who Kaworu allows unity to, because his hands would be stained with death anyway. Then you realize why Kaworu deploys his most powerful AT Field during his descent to Heaven’s Door.

This is his reality.

Kaworu’s status as the Angel of Free Will isn’t about him being the only complex angel, as a lot of people think. It’s about being the sole individual handing that freedom to others.

You realize his terrifying dilemma goes to the tune of being feared for his own existence as an angel (which he notes to Shinji) and not being able to properly live.

Sometimes you ”hurt” people by existing.

Sometimes people hate you for the simple act of existing.

Kaworu’s and Rei’s terror is the other end of existential horror, that you can’t help but forced to be known. Sometimes you have knowledge but aren’t allowed to do much with it.

Tier 3: The Body of The Iceberg

X. War Horrors of ‘Ambivalence’

XI. Unit-01 Berserk Scene

XII. Dummy Plugs + CNS

XIII. Kaworu + Adam’s True Power

X. War Horrors of ‘Ambivalence’

Episode 18 is where anxieties graduate into horrors both implied and visceral. Unease hangs over the episode, with the mystery of Unit-04’s disappearance and tests being done on Unit-03. Misato tells Shinji that because tests would be done, there’d be a pilot there. Misato uneasily withholds this info from Shinji and Kensuke breaks the silence with his recurring desire of being a pilot, still ignorant of the war horrors. There’s a subtlety that Shinji picks up on with Toji but not enough to put two and two together: that the big-eater himself isn’t feeling so hot.

The continual chirp of cicadas and birds nor the peel of the school bell are enough to break the unease of the viewer or of Toji. Toji goes from indirectly being affected by war vs angels to being chosen, drafted even, a child at the first line of defense for the apocalypse. We get a flashback of him beating down Shinji, before it cuts back to present day Toji. He will be in Shinji’s shoes.

Toji balls a fist, a recurring theme in Eva, to the tune of “What is your hand for?” Toji is finally  about to take things into his own hands.

Asuka takes a few cracks at Shinji to Hikari that he hasn’t quite gotten the memo, but when Shinji asks her even she’s halted in words.

Then the day comes.

Tests are being done and suddenly Unit-03 goes  rogue with Toji in her (note the Evangelions have the souls of the pilots’ mothers, save for Rei). Unit-03’s’s strange behavior is revealed to be the work of the 13th angel, Bardiel. Shinji’s ignorance is made worse by Misato’s absence (with Misato telling Ritsuko she’d tell Shinji the pilot’s info after the tests). Units 00 through 02 are sent out for the new threat and Shinji sees this new threat. Anxiety rises.

The song “Marking Time Waiting for Death” accentuates the anxiety. Unit-03’s silhouette eerily contrasts with the sun, her body slightly hunched and approaching slowly.

Fear washes over Shinji when he deduces that with an Evangelion inside, there must be a pilot.

Yet he still doesn’t know.

The other pilots are aware, and show reluctance to the revelation. A hijacked Unit-03 sets herself on Asuka, Rei, and even strangling Shinji. Shinji allows the angel-hijacked-being to strangle him, because killing another human being is simply horrific.

 Eva has its hand in the war morals cookie jar here because Shinji stands at a conundrum, to other let this creature take his life or to murder flesh and blood. This dilemma goes double-time in war. Gendo asks why Shinji hasn’t dealt with the 13th yet, with a somewhat horrified Shinji pleading  about the pilot. Gendo commands for the unfinished Dummy System to override Shinji’s controls and then suddenly...silence….

The Dummy Controlled Unit-01 springs back and we’re treated to a close-up of Unit-03/Bardi3l being strangled. 

A nauseating crunch sounds and the unit goes limp. A controlled Unit-01 proceeds to raise hell on the incapacitated enemy, resulting in the unit’s blood and guts flowing through the streets. NERV’s personnel can’t do anything save for become fearful at the Dummy System’s capabilities. Terrible, visceral noises sound one by one as blows strike, as the unit’s severed limbs and blood splatters riddle the urban battlefield. Shinji hears every second, every squelch and splat.

Imagine the pain of 03’s pilot.

But the terrors don’t cease here. 

01 doesn’t stop at just raising hell on the incapacitated 03, and we’re treated to another close-up shot of 01 tightly holding onto 03’s entry plug, before crushing it.

Somewhere away, Misato receives news that Unit-03 has been dispatched as an angel. Shinji feels the weight of having actually killed someone, before Misato actually breaks the news that the pilot is not only alive but that the greatly injured pilot is his classmate.

It never really hit me until now how this scene holds another horrifying subtlety. Compare this to episode 3, where Toji’s first interaction with Shinji involved him punching him, the very scene playing at this episode’s beginning. The 18th episode ends now with ,Toji and Shinji are both joined in the same camp, of children emotionally and physically marred by war, not able to fully control their situations.

XI. Unit-01 Berserk Sequence

Shinji stands in a situation where he can no longer take the terrors aligned with the Evangelion. He’s gone from sustaining injuries great and small from combat with the eldritch angels, to indirectly harming a friend through it. He resigns from his position as a pilot, understandably running away even with the approach of the 14th angel.

After a talk with Kaji about how he can control his future and he only, Shinji once again puts himself at the forefront of further pains. He must once more thrust himself to the terrors that align with the war-machines whilst struggling with other traumas.

During his fight against Zeruel, his Evangelion dies out and it all floods back to him. Shinji once again finds himself at a position of no power, frantically pressing at his controls to no avail.

He can only hear blow after blow of the 14th’s onslaught. He and Unit-01 are at their most vulnerable.

Until Unit-01 springs back.

W hat follows is the famous Berserk sequence, a scene whose terror can be thanks to Evangelion’s low budget.

We see the Evangelion in all her terror and the sort of off-ness that carries in this scene.

Episode 19 has no problems on treating us to front-row tickets to terror.

Unit-01 snatches part of Zeruel’s appendage and adds it to her mass. A sickening squelch sounds and her new appendage contorts into place in an instant. 

She moves over to her incapacitated, angelic meal and doesn’t hesitate to chow down. The shots feel too personal yet nowhere near in the sense of the show’s meta-textual reflections. It’s almost like stumbling on a cryptid and when she shoots a look at the viewer, it feels as if she’s looking at us, like we’ve interrupted her dinner. Or perhaps she did finish the meal... and she’s in the mood for seconds? Perhaps even thirds?

The bizarre and eldritch nature of the Evangelions goes full force with this imagery. Episodes 2 and 16 laid the foundation of how off the Evangelion Unit-01 was with how she openly mutilates her targets. Or even the unsettling roar of Unit-01 that’s not entirely bestial. The sound is straddles a line between the blood-curdling bestial and the human. But here? Eva Unit-01’s position, from her hunched figure, to her more feral position as she feasts, feels far too organic...and far too human.

The Evas themselves aren’t human, but the souls housed within are. Eva’s souls are souls of the respective pilots’ mothers, an example of the mother and child symbolism omnipresent in Neon Genesis Evangelion.

Shinji’s mother is Yui and as we go through the series, we realize the s2 engine appliance was intentional. An s2 engine offers infinite stores of energy and this is needed for Instrumentality. With the s2 engine within her grasp and the fact that Evas don’t subsist on anything, this would make the consumption of 14th completely recreational.

It’s super tempting to frame this scene as containing some abomination that now stands unchained and indiscriminate in its targets, but it isn’t. It’s sort of understandable because Units 00 and 02 don’t come close to exhibiting this sort of behavior nor were they in this circumstance. Neither Unit-00 nor 02  have any desires in regard to Instrumentality. In the end, we should look to Yui and her own endgame, because Yui’s running the show here.

XII. Dummy Plugs + CNS

Ritsuko states the Dummy Plugs are machines which imitate pilot’s thinking. There’s a bit more than the possibility of this being 100% AI due to the apparatus Rei is in.

This very likely implies the respective person’s thought processes added with AI programmed in a way which best “describes” the pilot (basically how they are perceived). In episode 17, Rei is situated in this apparatus strongly resembling the central nervous system, the brain and the spinal cord.

{The central nervous system CNS is responsible for integrating sensory information and responding accordingly. It consists of two main components:

1. The spinal cord serves as a conduit for signals between the brain and the rest of the body. It also controls simple musculoskeletal reflexes without input from the brain.

2. The brain is responsible for integrating most sensory information and coordinating body function, both consciously and unconsciously. Complex functions such as thinking and feeling as well as regulation of homeostasis are attributable to different parts of the brain.

https://mcb.berkeley.edu/courses/mcb135e/central.html

Ritsuko imparts the unsettling revelation about Rei and by extension the Dummy Plant itself (after Misato coerced her into learning about Rei). The Reis are the core of the Dummy Plugs (and the System used to brutalize a hijacked Unit-03 and its trapped pilot). This scene adds more to the extent of Rei’s objectification, of her being replaced. It adds on to Rei III’s comment of being ‘the third.’

Rei isn’t savage by any means but the sheer brutality of Dummy System’d Unit-01 5 episodes prior may hint at her straightforward nature.

I’d like to pitch that Ritsuko’s approach to Rei’s Dummy Data was also the product of her subtle animosity toward Rei. When she refers to the Dummy Plug as a machine which mimics human thinking, she’s talking about Rei. She also refers to her similarly in episode 23 by referring to Rei as spare parts, as if Rei herself is some soulless machine whose parts can be switched out if need be. This could also call back to Rei’s poem, in which she calls herself a vessel which holds human thoughts.

Another question remains: how does Kaworu play into this?

The MPEs (the Mass Production Evangelion series) use Kaworu’s Dummy data, meaning that there are cloned Kaworus stored off somewhere, perhaps floating with soulless smiles the same as Rei has.

Treated as spare parts.

This also implies that Kaworu is more or less reduced to an object.

What’s more disturbing is the nature of the MPEs gratuitous method of ravaging and mutilating Unit-02 and by extension Asuka.

Kaworu hasn’t ever demonstrated any degree of malice, so this can’t really insinuate a ‘Kaworu is secretly evil’ narrative. But this can tie back to a recurring theme of humans fearing and despising angels. It’s because of this that the revelation of our genetically identical nature or the fact that they can comprehend our psychology is framed in-show as kind of shocking. It is because we’re so disturbed at the angels’ existence (or anything else we don’t comprehend) that we view them as inherently savage in nature. Kaworu’s quick-to-perceive personality most likely translated itself along with the AI. This would also rule in the somewhat strategic way in which the MPEs act against Asuka, exploiting her attack patterns through surprise attacks.

Some of Kaworu’s as well as Rei’s Dummy Data are the product of universal (Kaworu) and personal (Rei) contempt by people. Let that sink in.

XIII. Kaworu’s + Adam’s True Power

The bottom of the fridge horror portion of this iceberg is something that has subtly plagued me for years. We’ve only ever caught glimpses of Kaworu’s abilities in his debut episode. I picked up on it little by little with each re-watch of the episode, with every other time his abilities dawning on me. If I wasn’t focusing on how his character fits in the greater framework of Evangelion, I was cluing in on his abilities.

One of his abilities is being able to block out light, magnetism, and subatomic particles. Some of the forces which make up the universe. This witnessed by the viewer when he realizes the whole of humanity’s welfare hangs by a thread, due to the coexistence of angels and Adam.

Adam.

Adam’s soul lies within Kaworu. Adam. Who utilized an Anti-AT Field which caused Second Impact. An Anti-AT Field, which killed off much of the Katsuragi Crew in Antarctica.

This makes Kaworu the most powerful angel in the original Evangelion series.

Eva has shown that ownership of an angel’s soul (or partially, if you’re onboard the Rei I is in Unit-00 theory) allows the person to inherit the angel’s abilities through Rei. Rei blocks off Kaworu’s immensely powerful field with one of her own, canceling out both as a result. As we know, AT Fields for people are a figurative affair. People lack the physiology to exhibit a physical AT Field because they don’t have cores like angels do. Angels’ souls when possessed by humans have a sort of ability to circumvent parts of human physiology (if you’re looking for the whole package, you should eat angel’s flesh too). Rei also shows the ability to float, implied in episode 24 and shown explicitly in End of Evangelion.

But this raises a few questions about the last messenger is the ability to block out some of the forces of the universe Adam’s powers or Kaworu’s? Another ability that continues to plague me the more I think about it is Kaworu’s AT-Field usage on Heaven’s Door to bypass its lock.

We haven’t actually seen Adam’s other powers (if the angel has any) because the it’s anti-AT Field was halted via Lance of Longinus. Other than its ethereal appearance in flashbacks, we only see an incapacitated Adam in embryonic form. That’s it. We don’t know if Adam exhibits any other powers due to this impediment. If Adam does have more powers, this would add onto both the fridge horror factor of Adam and Kaworu.

Tier 4: Pre-Abyss

XIV. The “Nihilist” Lens

XV. The True Nature of Sync Rates

XVI. Unit 01+ MPE Gorging Scenes

XVII. Ancient Ruins of Arka

XIV. The “Nihilist” Lens

There’s something that implicates the whole cast. Something that goes beyond the meaning of the AT-Field, and the all-too-known Hedgehog’s Dilemma.

Eva is filled to the very brim with psychological concepts, but there’s one thing which ties this all together. It goes much larger than the desire to become validated or cycles of abuse and unresolved issues to a newer generation.

Free Will Vs. Determinism ties the entire cast together and is disturbing in its own right. It not only ties the cast together but also contributes to Eva’s meta-narrative.

Episode 16’s sequence with Leliel, Shinji, and the Johari Window gives little breadcrumbs to this psychological dilemma.  Leliel teaches Shinji about his own identity as well as slowly ushering him to a sense of self-awareness. Leliel also attempts to usher Shinji out of filtering reality with only convenient parts. Shinji argues that he can’t really be held culpable for his actions, because the one and only reality is that reality is awful, bar none. Not his reality, but reality as a whole. This deterministic stance becomes ever more blatant 8 episodes later with the appearance of Nagisa Kaworu.

Kaworu’s designation is the angel of free will. The irony of this stands in the fact that Kaworu isn’t the only angel who can exhibit free will (with some of the angels before him taking the time to try comprehending people). Kaworu’s status comes from his identity as the last messenger, bringing about freedom for one species (humans/lilin or angels) at the expense of the other. Kaworu knows his reality well and in the end, seeks to better the reality of those around him. Eva doesn’t romanticize the prospect of free will, however, because Kaworu is so aware of his own person and how he can hurt those around him that it greatly bothers him.

The metatext doesn’t just position Shinji as being in the wrong, but also the audience. Remember the point I made before about Shinji being the audience substitute? It’s further hammered home from the series’ tail end and into End of Evangelion.

“That’s just the way things are.” is a common response to things in life we feel resigned on changing, because we don’t know how to change them. This quote is a parallel to Shinji’s “humans aren’t made to float!” in episode 16.

Shinji does know how to change much of his reality, but by doing so he’d be pushed into free will. Free Will is the solution and it means holding yourself accountable rather than believe that it’s everyone else with the problem. With the idea that you can change your reality, it offers you the opportunity to love yourself.

If you love yourself, then it becomes much easier to love others.

Eva’s free will and determinism metatext hammers home the extension of empathy.

Shinji/the viewer’s greatest problem is that because we don’t love ourselves it makes it difficult to extend the love to everyone else. Shinji’s love translates as idealism. Because of his unhealthy idealism, he is hindered from understanding people.

By ascribing your beliefs from determinism to free will, it opens your mind to an entire world of possibilities, but therein lies the terror. It is because of these possibilities that Shinji and by extension, the viewer, likely fears free will. Shinji finds ways make himself validated, but with free will, the argument could be made that it doesn’t matter. There’s the anxiety-crippling likelihood that none of it actually matters, because your existence doesn’t matter. If we’re going on this bent, acts of making an adequate impression on others are acts of personal denial. In the end, these are what they are, possibilities.

The greatest terror of it all is that we don’t know.

User power-chords makes an excellent point about the inherent darkness of an internal locus of control.

User power-chords posits the idea of existential absurdity for Shinji not as a certainty but a possibility. There’s always a likelihood that our desires to comprehend the world around us, to find ultimate understanding are in vain.

Cheesy as it sounds, people fear ambiguity because we seek a satisfying end. We don’t just seek answers. We want outside closure and inner peace, but we won’t always get it. It’s why we rationalize relationships that end on bad notes. Sometimes you worry about your falling-outs...and it hurts. You never got the answers your wanted so this pain carries, for months, sometimes even for years. Dwelling on the issue serves no purpose other than to keep that hurt with you. The best thing to do sometimes is to find your own closure, your own meaning.

No, Evangelion isn’t actually pro-nihilism, but it presents us with that likelihood. That’s what makes this aspect of the narrative so terrifying: The consideration that we find meaning in the meaningless.

XV. The True Nature of Sync Rates

The nature of injuries and having them in adds onto the innate horror --be it war or otherwise-- and themes of the Evangelion. The severity of the injury is based on how high the pilot’s sync ratio is. An average rate while sustaining damage will bring hurt to the actual pilot in the respective spot. Some examples:

Sachiel makes multiple headblows to Unit-01 and Shinji in episode 2, causing head trauma.

Ramiel’s, (5th angel), particle beam attack in episode 6, an attack so severe that Shinji needed medical care.

Unit-00 and Rei being infected by a Bardiel hijacked Unit-03 in episode 18. Toji’s condition in episode 18 stands as a large example of the innately disturbing nature of sustained injuries.

Toji’s condition becomes all the more nauseating when you see Evangelion parts and blood flow through Tokyo-3.

Toji could feel every last second of strangulation, body blow, and feel the unspeakable pain of his arm being severed.  Let that sink in.

Asuka receives the worst of these considering the nature of her sync rate being high. The higher the rate the more kept the damage is. The circumstances behind Asuka getting the worst of it goes back to the AT-Field. Asuka understood the meaning of the AT-Field, that the more you open yourself up to others, the more hurt you become. The realization dawns on Asuka as her mother from within the Evangelion shields her from the onslaught of JSSDF troops.

It’s then that Asuka finally comprehends what the Absolute Terror Field is. Despite her emotional needs being neglected, realizing she’s set up to fail, and going comatose she still goes on.

Asuka, despite everything, takes a chance and opens her heart knowing the double-edged nature of the AT Field. What happens next?

Asuka took a chance.

She opened her heart...

...and she got hurt all because she opened herself.

XVI. Unit 01+MPE Gorging Sequences

The brutality of both Unit-01 and the Mass Production Evas holds three layers: of visual horror, implied horror, and thematic horror. Unit-01, after taking Zeruel’s s2 engine into herself, proceeds to then brutalize the 14th angel by way of still gorging on it. The feeding was entirely recreational considering Evangelions don’t subsist on food to function. This was more about the sheer act of brutality for brutality’ sake.

The Mass Production Evas also fall under this category, the way in which they deal with Asuka after incapacitating her with a replicated Lance of Longinus is also sadistic and gratuitous. They also proceed to gorge on Asuka, her fate made worse through the simple fact that her sync rate is heightened.

The MPEs don’t even swiftly finish her off.  She is in a state of tremendous and unimaginable pain. They fly above her slowly, circling above her mangled Eva.

They are almost mocking her as she can do nothing, save for writhe. Asuka’s seething, repeated “I’ll kill you...I’ll kill you….” is then silenced by the MPEs spearing her down.

The brutality doesn’t end there, as we see much darker implications of the damage sustained toward the end of the first half of End of Evangelion.

Shinji bears witness to the implications after seeing the decimated remains of Unit-02 being carried off by some of the Mass Production Units. The sickening reality of it all dawns on him and he is once more exposed to the woes of war and the nightmarish aspect tied of the Evangelions.

XVII. Ancient Ruins of Arqa

We’re ending the pre-abyssal end of the iceberg with Evangelion’s original proposal.

Eva’s proposal, a far cry to the show today, had a more sci-fi angle to it. Psychological concepts weren’t exactly pitched nor was it self-aware. The angels weren’t even referred to as the angels, but as the Apostolos. Instead of the 18 we were presented with in the original show and the movies, there were 28 Apostolos.

The Apostolos designs stand as testament to how far of a departure the proposal was to the final cut. They look far more menacing than the more amorphous, much softer defined, beady-eyed angels we’re used to. To top it all off, the Apostolos were the de facto villains of Evangelion’s prototype pitch. The Apostolos in the Proposal, toward the end, proceed their onslaught as a group rather than the series’ one by one. Toward the series’ end, the 12 strongest Apostolos begin their assault on North America, annihilating the continent in its entirety.

Only 12 of the creatures laid waste to a singular continent.

Episode 24: "Now, the Promised Time"

Rei breaks down. Her secrets are revealed. At last awakened, the twelve strongest Apostolos descend from the Moon. Both Eva Unit-06 and the American continent vanish completely. Humans acknowledge their helplessness in the face of the Apostolos' crushing power. The promised time, when people will return to nothing, approaches. A human drama in the depths of despair.

Episode 25: "Arqa, the Promised Land"

The laboratory holds the ancient ruins of Arqa, which have become key. In order to stop the twelve Apostolos, the United Nations' head members annul the Human Instrumentality Project and resolve to destroy the Apostolos. Shinji's father objects. Shinji and the others stay at the laboratory for Rei. A drama of people conflicting over incongruous objectives.

https://wiki.evageeks.org/Resources:Neon_Genesis_Evangelion_Proposal_(Translation)

The aforesaid creatures were so powerful in the original pitch that Human Instrumentality and the ancient ruins of Arqa would be the way of stopping the onslaught.

Tier 5: The Abyss

XVIII. Split Second Misato Death

XIX. Humans Are The Villains in Eva

XX. The Ultimate Paradox

XVIII. Split Second Misato Death

As the last and most explicit aspect of original Evangelion, it would only make sense that EoE specific content would take its place in Tier 5. End of Evangelion is a 90 + minute tour de force with disturbing imagery back-to-back. Split Second Misato Death refers to one of the most unsettling images sprinkled all throughout the movie. Here are a few of the many examples of EoE’s building up on Evangelion’s ugliest parts.

Everyone cites the infamous hospital scene not even 5 minutes into the film as the first proof, but user power-chords has pointed out, Shinji has actually attempted suicide (refer to the ‘Free Will v. Determinism’ part of the iceberg.)

After Misato is mortally wounded and sends Shinji off in an elevator not long after, the JSSDF blow up that part of NERV. A few people have pointed out the most disturbing facet of this scene: through freeze-framing that you can actually see Misato’s body during.

The JSSDF scene partway through End of Evangelion in which NERV personnel are summarily annihilated.

For those missing the small detail of Shinji’s attempted suicide ,Shinji’s depressed state is made more clear when the JSSDF locate him. When they do they attempt to kill him execution style. Shinji doesn’t move.

“I don’t want to die…!” during the JSSDF’s assault, Asuka is awoken from comatose state. She is protected by her mother via an AT-Field by Unit-02. She gains back her self-preservation after this realization, and multitude of images play. One of them is an extremely gruesome close-up of Asuka’s face. (extreme body horror warning, proceed with caution)

The Komm Susser Tod scene beginning with Shinji strangling Asuka in harsh coloring, Naoko’s same action toward Rei plays right after. A few disturbing child drawings follow after, predominantly featuring death. (seizure warning, body horror warning)

End of Evangelion’s flooring nature comes from the fact that it builds up on the subtly horrific and makes these terrors explicit. Whatever existed beyond closed doors becomes now available for us to see,

XVIII. Humans Are The Villains in Eva

At the penultimate point of the abyss lies a horror as old as much of time. Of the humane being more disgusting than the monsters.

That we can be monstrous.

This fact becomes known with the appearance of the JSSDF as dispatched by SEELE, methodically mowing down NERV personnel with little to no weaponry of their own. We’re treated to NERV’s personnel in their hallways, some forced with the moral dilemma of leaving their own to die while surviving or helping their own while both end up being gunned down. 

It becomes apparent that SEELE has been gradually, intentionally chipping away at NERV’s Defense Budget, getting rid of the (little) competition they have after the defeat of the Last Messenger.

There’s a degree of contempt and casual sadism that comes with how they kill the personnel. In one instance, a NERV worker surrenders to the JSSDF, before being killed off in execution style in the distance (one headshot plus two extra shots for good measure).

When you look back at it, this sort of sheer, unabashed brutality wasn’t felt about the angels. Human attitude about the angels is largely fearing, anxious. This attitude accentuated itself through a sometimes nervous soundscape. Of observing these weird, ghastly creatures as they creep and swim. And the feeling’s mutual. The problem is that we don’t know.

But here? We do know.

When the JSSDF move in, the anxiety of angels graduates to the full-force dread of creatures that have killed before. The greatest enemy to humanity has always been with them all along, forcing them to a catch-22. The dread falls on Maya because she understands this perfectly. NERV has only ever shot at targets rather than living flesh…

...and SEELE knows this.

SEELE’s slow, but sure suppression of NERV’s budget is kicking a man while he’s down, but the man in question is a child instead. The JSSDF have more than enough firepower, calling it overkill goes beyond an understatement.

The JSSDF demonstrate the lack of remorse further with the discovery of Third Child, Shinji Ikari. One of the members presses the barrel to Shinji’s head before Misato steps in and kills the members.

The JSSDF isn’t the only damning evidence of how ugly members of humanity can be, however.

Humanity’s on-occasion grossness shows itself in small ways throughout the series, in dislike and conscious emotional distance for individuals, or beliefs of the angels being unintelligent and/or savage. Other times it manifests fiscally, in orchestrating more ethical approaches to stopping certain destruction to go seemingly haywire in order for NERV to receive more funding. This all due to a rival company of NERV challenging the very idea for its usage of child soldiers.

The worst of this damning fact is that many of the morally repugnant members exist on a higher echelon of society. There are Gendos running around, doing as they so please and they’re the tip of their echelon iceberg.

XIX. The Ultimate Paradox of Evangelion

“Anywhere can be paradise as long as you have the will to live.”

We’re treated to these words as Shinji finds himself on shores surrounded by an isolate hellscape, with Asuka next to him. The strange and altogether horrific nature of End of Evangelion has gotten fans  believing on End of Evangelion’s endgame was in certain, nihilistic. But Eva dipping its hand in the likelihood of meaning in the existentially meaningless isn’t even the ultimate terror of Eva’s self-aware universe, nor is it the tendency for man to become contemptible towards itself.

Evangelion greatest terror is the paradoxical nature of free will.

Yui’s words to her son as she drifts off into the ever-expanding cosmos, her status as a deity realized, is that paradise is universal. EoE assumes this unconventionally positive approach to a whole series worth of characters’ woes. The issue is: finding paradise is ultimately conditional.

Free Will’s paradoxical nature is what gives credence to the ongoing Free Will vs. Determinism dilemma. People can use their free will to take away yours entirely and this is most evident with Rei. Her existence is the result of a man’s unhealthy attachment to his wife, her lack of self-preservation the result of being conditioned as a multi-purpose vessel; her desire to merge with Lilith to become an omnipresent mother-figure was not hers. The nature of disallowing free will exists on a spectrum, as people can use their free will not to take away the whole of others’ freedoms, but to disallow them proper emotional growth. The adults around Asuka weren’t around for her during the series, leading to her eventual downfall.

Unit-01, throughout much of the second part of EoE holds the power to give or deny people’s physicality due to her status of having both Fruits of Life (the s2 engine held by angels) and Wisdom (from the Lance of Longinus merged with the Eva earlier on). This gives Unit-01 her deity status and while within Lilith-Rei, Shinji realizes that not everyone would be there in his life, that he can’t be in the center of others’ lives. It’s for that reason why he denies people’s physicality (“They can all just die.”), which turns people into LCL.

Shinji gives allows people the ability to come back from Instrumentality after realization arises that without other people, there’s no way to tell if Shinji, himself exists or not. Kaworu and Rei also give him the reality that with people back, pain will become an inevitability once more. With all the souls gathered by Lilith-Rei, they are released after her death.

With the souls of those cast into Instrumentality dispersed, those turned into LCL now hold the ability to come back from Instrumentality if they so choose.

While the idea of anywhere being paradise rings true, it’s not entirely satisfying to say that EoE is unconventional in its uplifting message to the viewer. Evangelion is at its core a cautionary tale. It warns the viewer into extensions of empathy and openness that others would properly live. This goes double for those with power. Without that compassion, we’ll have Asukas, Misatos, Ristukos, as well as Reis, those in the world whose downfalls come from emotional absences, neglect, objectification, and forced baggage. We would have Shinjis, those wanting to be at the nexus of others’ importance because they were deprived while young.

Kindness is a powerful thing and the lack of compassion present in all of Eva implicates most everyone. It leads to yet more abusive cycles, with the only thing breaking that cycle being a hand for those in need.

XX. Conclusion

What more can be said over this juggernaut which is a host to a bevvy of darkness? Evangelion is testament that anxieties and horror don’t need to start out as blatantly shocking or visceral to make an impact years down the line. They also don’t need to be out in the open to initially hook you either. You pick up on a few anxieties as well as horrors and you realize deep down, there must be more, which drives many of us to engage in this often times unabashedly dark source material.

Some of us are doing it later in the throes of adolescences, others are doing so well into their 20s, possibly dipping into their 30s. Point is, it draws in a lot of us and for a lot of us, it doesn’t ever let go.

Some of its charm could be chalked to the visceral ways in which characters interact. Even after years of re-watches, I’m still learning new things about the child soldiers, and I’m quite sure there’s others finding small details. There’s also the possibility of Eva’s approach to terror. I think Evangelion “humanized” its horror. It didn’t make horror a universally human feeling, but made it so that the true big bads looking to cause apocalypse weren’t actually the eldritch. Many of the angels are more or less lost kids looking for their mother (I still think Ramiel’s “singing” in episode 5 was it calling for its mother!).

With those newer details after 20+ years, there will be more added to the iceberg. Hell, there should be more added to the iceberg. This iceberg is the tip of an even greater iceberg. I’m still learning about their adults and their desires as well, how cyclical their actions are. For others, the draw-in factor lies in its low budget. Personally, it’s all of these for me: the low budget helped cement these darker aspects of the series due to horror and the genre’s overall relationship with limitation. It works best on limitation and had Eva worked with a much higher budget, I don’t think the content would be as effective, or perhaps it’d be much more difficult to make it so.

Evangelion is such a well-done, deceptively compact series that each lens a fan assumes has its own interesting rabbit hole. Your circumstance shapes the experience, and this too involves how you navigate the series’ menagerie of terrors.

I’d also like to thank the reader for getting through the largest rabbit hole in Evangelion. I’d also like to thank you for getting through the whole of this meta from a fan who slowly began to resonate with the characters as the years went on!

[47crayons]

so, you want to write a musician?

about me: i play viola and have experience in symphony orchestras, string orchestras, string quartets (+ a few other small ensembles), and solo performances. i've done some light composition, and have friends/family who play other instruments. while my musical history is extensive, by no means do i know everything or speak for everyone.

this guide will focus on classical music/how to portray classical musicians and things that aren't as easily researched.

quick overview of instruments in a typical symphony orchestra

upper strings (violin, viola), lower strings (cello, (double) bass; i've seen viola included here too, but it's more commonly classified as upper strings)

strings also technically includes harp and piano

woodwinds (flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon)

depending on instrumentation, they may also have piccolo, english horn, bass clarinet, contrabassoon

saxophones are not traditionally in symphony orchestras due to it being a relative newer instrument! but this is changing because more contemporary composes are including sax parts

brass (trumpet, trombone, bass trombone, tuba, euphonium)

percussion (depends heavily on instrumentation, but common instruments are bass drum, timpani, snare, crash cymbal, xylophone, marimba)

some things you should research

where the hands are supposed to go!! i'd recommend you look at pictures of professionals in orchestra settings (ny phil, cso, berlin phil are all top tier). some musicians *coughs at yoyo ma* have less than perfect posture when they're performing solos (for the same reasons famous authors can break "rules")

necessary equipment including reeds, rockstops, different kinds of sticks/mallets, rosin, mouth pieces for whatever instrument you're writing

common misconceptions

loose/photocopied sheet music is not aesthetic—it's annoying and impossible to keep organized. folders and binders are fairly common especially when managing multiple ensembles.

original copies are often expensive and required to perform a piece (legally) for profit or otherwise (though i know a few people who have bent this rule)

not all performers are good composers (i myself have very little formal music theory training), but many composers have performance histories.

not all musicians can sing.

perfect pitch is both a blessing and a curse. notes can be slightly lower/higher but in tune with the context of the piece, which drives people with perfect pitch insane.

having perfect pitch does not guarantee someone will be a prodigy, and people don't need perfect pitch to be a talented musician.

drama in ensembles does exist, but it rarely gets in the way of rehearsal. same thing goes for good friends: if your characters have even a shred of common sense, they aren't going to be talking/messing around during rehearsal.

instruments (especially good ones) are extremely expensive. people very rarely store instruments on the wall or other displays for fear of falling.

instruments are very picky and require tuning every time. every time! it doesn't take long anyway. temperature and humidity can and will make instruments go out of tune or damage your instrument if not properly stored.

some people listen exclusively to classical music, but in my experience, that's definitely not the majority

like with anything, most musicians struggle with self doubt at one point or another.

musician culture

getting excited when we hear a piece we recognize

getting frustrated because we can't remember the name of the piece (after all, no lyrics to search)

being horrified when a non-musician actor is playing a musician. yes, we notice. yes, it's obvious.

if people are joking, it's likely to be about: violas (a quick search for "viola jokes" will tell you all you need to know) or trumpets (a reputation for being overly loud, playing and not)

putting stickers (places they toured, their orchestra, or just purely decorative) on cases is common, but not for everyone. same goes for pictures (of family, past concerts, or anything) on the inside.

scrambling for a pencil when the conductor says to mark something. pencils are a musicians best friend :D

asking (and forgetting) how to split double stops/two parts at the same time. sometimes one stand partner will play the top while the other plays the bottom, and sometimes this is split stand by stand.

this has NEVER resulted in a sexual top/bottom joke. please just. don't. also no g string jokes. it's just unrealistic.

awaiting the obligatory "it's one week before our concert, and you sound like this?!" lecture

not talking about music 100% of the time!!! they have lives outside of music (most of them, at least /j). especially to close friends, music is probably not going to be a conversation topic unless something is out of the ordinary (high stress, something funny from rehearsal, etc.)

bragging/talking about how often they practice is generally not welcomed. great, but other people don't need to hear it!

stages are hot and bright. there's no way a performer can see someone in the audience with the possible exception of the first row.

practicing

three words for you: love. hate. relationship.

slow practice (like really slow lots of people recommend half speed; good for focusing on the right notes, tone, phrasing, smooth transitions)

metronome practice (while playing, it's not annoying at all! it's helpful and requires a lot of focus; when NOT playing, it's annoying and loud because it needs to be heard over the playing)

drone practice (having a machine/website/another person play one note in the background; good for tuning and scales)

and too many more for me to detail

auditions

ensembles may have entrance auditions to determine who gets in and seating auditions to determine placement within the section.

adrenaline does not make us play better; it just makes us make mistakes. and then thinking about those mistakes causes more mistakes.

some instruments, especially those with less repertoire, have common excerpts that come up frequently (i can think of one in particular that i've played for three separate auditions this year).

stopping/starting over is not recommended ever, but if you do, it has to be 10x better. most audition judges aren't looking for perfection!! they want to see how your character can keep going after messing up.

sight reading (being given new music, having ~30 seconds to look at it, being asked to play) is never perfect. i don't care how talented your character is; if they think they nailed it, they aren't experienced enough to see all the phrasing/dynamics that they didn't incorporate. no one gets sight reading perfect!!!

perhaps most importantly, musicians are not all the same! they enjoy it for a number of different reasons and have diverse and interesting lives outside of music!!! more information about specific instrument groups under the cut :)

strings

callouses. with the exception of pianists, most string players (and especially professional ones) have callouses where they press down/pluck the strings. i also have one on my right thumb where i hold my bow. cellists and bassists might have them on their left thumb from playing higher notes in thumb position.

hickeys are also fairly common, though only some people get them. upper strings will get these by under their left jaw. cellists may have one from the wooden body resting on their sternum. some people (including hilary hahn and many many others) use a cloth for comfort and to prevent hickeys.

few people want a hickey, but it might suit a character who is constantly trying to prove themselves.

our fingers do not "glide" anywhere. you can get cuts/"string-burns" from pressing down too hard when shifting. cuts like those are the only reason someone's fingers will bleed, and it's rarer than you think.

upper strings are more prone to back/neck problems from the way they hold their instruments on one side. see also: shoulder pain.

finger cramps happen. they aren't too common, but most if not all strings have experienced at least one.

pianos require tuning every few years or else the chords will be out of tune. few pianists can tune their own instrument because of how complicated it is.

piano parts/accompaniments will have so. many. pages. a page turner may sit on the right of the pianist to turn the page.

woodwinds & brass

spit. so much spit. some instruments clean afterwards with a cloth; others have a spit valve which is as gross as it sounds.

proper embouchure, or how a musician uses the muscles in their face/lips, is tiring, and people actually get strong cheek muscles. they can also easily turn red, but it varies based on a person's facial complexion. see also: good lung capacity.

flute and piccolo are not dainty. piccolo requires as much air as a tuba. an old teacher of mine almost passed out playing piccolo when she was in college.

flutes and piccolos are high, but often not shrill depending on the level of the ensemble.

reeds last a few weeks (less if your character plays for hours a day) and can be expensive to buy.

keys and valves can get sticky especially on older instruments which can result in the wrong note or bad tone.

saxes, clarinets, flutes are more likely to "honk" on low notes.

oboes are more likely to feel "wispy" on high notes.

articulation comes from the tongue, especially for brass instruments, and conductors may ask for "tah" "pah" or "wah" sounds depending on the style of the piece.

percussion

callouses from the friction between hands and sticks/mallets.

there are so many types of sticks and mallets!!! make sure to take a look at what materials are good for what instruments/sounds.

cymbals, triangle, and bass drum are not easy to play, even though they look simple.

percussionists with the exception of timpani may play more than one instrument during a piece, and they're constantly moving around in the back during their rests.

percussion instruments are too expensive for most people to have everything they ever play. practice pads are very common in place of these instruments.

ability to play one instrument doesn't translate to different instruments. for example, many percussionists don't have experience playing set/drum set.

some of the things detailed here are heavily glossed over, so if you have any questions, i'd always be happy to talk about it with you; i may not have answers, but i will try to help as best i can!!!

since you read this far, have my favorite viola joke.

what's the difference between a violist and a large pizza?

a large pizza can feed a family of four :)

tagging some people who showed interest: @writing-is-a-martial-art @ashen-crest @kg-willie @owilder

[bondsmagii]

Hey read (some of) this blog post (long as hell), tries to pick it up where your old scp cult post left off: lackoflepers medium com/scp-is-not-a-cult-196e87ce6b11

(link)

this is insane. I've never written anything that's ever received a full response before, so that's exciting. what's even more exciting is that this piece does raise some really interesting questions, and is very well-written and thoughtful.

the strange thing is, I think we're both in agreement -- but I'm calling it a cult, and the author of this piece is calling it a "fledgling religion". I agree with this outlook, if I'm honest -- but at the same time I can't help but think that this has filled a hole in my cult theory, rather than poked a hole in it.

when I wrote the original cult post, the one thing I couldn't quite equate was the religion aspect. there was a lot of things to consider from that aspect, in terms of cults requiring a certain doctrine, rituals, etc, and while I was able to draw comparisons to the site culture and these things, it didn't quite fit. this article explains and illustrates exactly what all of these things are, and the sheer amount of similarities between the SCP wiki culture and religious fundamentalists. it's absolutely incredible, how it all still adds up.

however, some things are way off. I understand the author has a history with site and with staff, and they obviously understand that there's a complicated relationship between the two. the piece certainly tackles the question from an educated site-critical standpoint, but I can't help but notice some glaring omissions and in some places, assumptions which I feel are quite simply incorrect. under the cut we go, because this is long.

the author seems to be very ignorant of the site's cyclical patterns. one of their main arguments for the wiki's not being a cult is how people like Dr Gears and thedeadlymoose don't have more power over the masses, being such important figures. the problem with the wiki is that it is very cyclical, and big names of one era do not translate over to new eras. big names replace old ones, and the old ones either become fond grandparent figures (like Gears, who had the sense to take a step back before the tides changed against him) or they become irrelevant or reviled (like thedeadlymoose, or pixelatedharmony (Roget).) this means that if the former appeals to the group, they will get essentially a pat on the head and a gentle dismissal, or if the latter speak out they will be silenced, harassed, banned, etc. this is very cultlike behaviour -- if somebody goes against the grain, they become an immediate enemy of the people. the only way to survive fame on the wiki is to retire quietly, at your peak, and keep yourself to yourself.

going on from this, there are also different levels to how a staff member is seen. there have been eras of the site where the site admin might not be as impressive as one of the prolific writers, for example. who these days knows about The Administrator? it's all Dr Gears to them. different authors have different levels of unofficial authority, and the author of the piece doesn't seem to realise that it's a cult of personality as much as anything else. there are constant divisions among staff, even if they present a united front; frequently those not toeing the party line have been ostracised or purged, and this filters down to the average user. just because a person is on staff does not mean they immediately skyrocket to godhood, if we're using the religious metaphor. this is why it seems as though "staff" as a whole isn't uniformly worshipped -- they're not. there are complex currents of power at work here, and it's frustrating because at first glance it seems to invalidate the very real fact that a few site members have all the authority. the staff worship extends to staff members. those in lower tiers will act similarly to those in higher tiers as a new member would act towards all staff.

the author draws attention to thedeadlymoose's impressive efforts to bring the site forward from its 4chan beginnings and make it more inclusive to LGBT members -- something that has undoubtedly had an effect. however, the author does not mention that to date, the site's only successful splinter site (as in, a site that lasted more than a few weeks) is RPC, and while this website came about for multiple reasons, it's undeniable that one of these reasons was because of the fact that the wiki was openly supportive of LGBT people during Pride Month. it's also interesting to note that the author is also a member of the RPC site, so it's odd that this piece of the site's origins is not mentioned.

the acceptance of these pro-LGBT policies also seems to be less wide-spread than the author believes -- most people don't care, there does exist users who are homophobic or transphobic, and -- something I'm surprised wasn't mentioned at all in the piece -- when LGBT members of the site spoke up and said the new logo made them feel pandered to, and the resulting blowout made them feel targeted and unsafe, they were mass banned from the subreddit by a rogue moderator who, incensed by the fact his authority was so challenged, then ragequit and abused people on the threads for several hours. this is a typical staff response to discontent in the masses. so yes, thedeadlymoose did have some significant sway in the attitude changing somewhat, but it was not as widespread (nor as cared about) as the article's author seems to think.

now, I shall move on to specific quotations.

Furthermore, as a gaggle of creators, SCP should never feature the mass conformity of thought that defines a cult; theirs is an ecosystem that predicates itself upon creation, and obsessively on the new and original — that is to say, the different (but tempered).

while the author does elaborate on this idea of creativity and conformity, this is just wrong. again, I blame the author's ignorance in regards to the cyclical nature of the site -- which isn't the fault of the author, in my opinion. such cycles are slow, measuring out in years rather than months, which is insanely long for an internet community. in order to notice them, you would have to have been observing for some time -- which I have been. since I have been observing the site (which has been since its very creation -- I was on the 4chan thread in 2007 when 173 was created and I have seen the wiki from its infancy on EditThis over to wikidot) I have seen this happen countless times. a type of writing, be it style or genre, takes off. it could be LOLFoundation, grimdark, whatever -- it takes off, it runs the site for a year or so, and then it crashes and burns. when it takes off, there are rules for writing it that must be obeyed lest you be downvoted to oblivion. as the attitude turns against it, those who still write it are vilified and ostracised, and the new one takes over. there have been mass purges in the past, and there has always been, since the wiki's inception, conformity of thought. one of my oldest complaints about the wiki is that, for a site full of writers, they have no imagination and absolutely no desire to step out of the approved style.

To put it very broadly, things get accustomed to the status quo in a highly regulated environment, and get better at simply remaining and surviving in that.

this could be a decent rebuff to my previous point, but the fact is that while the SCP wiki harbours cultish behaviour, a vast majority of the users are casual readers who maybe write one or two articles. the stagnation is, at least partially, because of the fact that most users sign up, read some articles, think "cool, I have an idea for one!", write it -- and have it emulate the articles they've read, thus sounding similar in tone and content to the rest of the recent articles -- get a semi-decent response if lucky, and then move on after a few months or years.

the people who power the wiki, however -- who are prolific, who churn out insane amount of articles -- are suffering from what I outlined in my above point. a small percentage of the wiki dictates the direction it goes. it has always been like this -- and people who go against the grain that staff have employed, be it old user or new, will pay for it. this payment is often in downvotes, but occasionally comes in harassment, bans, or deletions, too.

Lastly a cult is really the most extreme version of a religion, it is a religion on steroids.

this is straight-up incorrect. cults began as religions gone hayware, yes, but the idea of a cult as a Jonestown-style compound in the middle of nowhere is outdated. cults are the most extreme version of an ideology -- be it religious, political, or otherwise. they are ideologies on steroids. thanks to the internet, they also no longer have to be in real life spaces. you can be in a social cult on Twitter or on Discord; you can be in a cult of ideology on an incel forum or in a social circle of TERF blogs. all of these things are cults. they have cult-like behaviour and thinking.

this is where the author proves my point beyond all doubt. the author says the following about the wiki's increasingly left-wing inclusive policies:

What was intended to be an executive extension in peace has, due to the force required to counteract the sheer hostility and persecution once leveled at this group at its peak, instead overshot its mark and has become a brutal bureaucratic sanctioning of political identity. (I can hear someone saying that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.)

the biggest shift in this cult-think, for me, was observed when the shift towards Terminally Online Woke Left attitudes began to be increasingly observed. I'm not talking about getting people to tone down the homophobia and whatnot. I'm talking about this culture of purity and suffering that the author outlines very well in the article; if you have read the article, I needn't go over it again. the wiki now holds a monopoly on suffering using the same kind of Oppression Olympics as other spaces devoted to purity culture -- and purity culture is a cult. this is straight-up fact at this point. it is my belief that staff identified the power available to them in a) targeting people from oppressed and vulnerable groups and giving them a so-called safe space and b) using their various oppressions to their advantage.

something that is prolific in purity culture circles is that somebody who is oppressed in any way cannot be held to blame for their actions. they cannot be a bad person. this is ideological armour, and staff wields it. they also use purity culture and apparently progressive ideology to shut down anyone who dissents, and to smear their name and have then ostracised as an enemy. why do they do this? liking the power and fame of their position is a big part of it, as the author outlined, but something major is missing.

throughout the entire article, the author does not once mention the detailed and extensive history of staff sexually abusing minors on the site.

this is well-documented by this point. staff has seen many predators in its ranks, including one of the most prolific site members of all time -- AdminBright, or The Duckman. staff has known about these staff members and has covered it up over years. I myself have heard testimony from countless victims, but whenever we raise enough of a stink, a staff member does an "internal investigation" and nothing comes of it. the fact that the cult-like behaviour of this website can be discussed without one of the cornerstones of cult activity -- using its members for financial or sexual gain -- is astounding to me.

to go on from this, there is also no mention of the SCP lawyer fund, which raised over $30,000 and then faced staff actively resisting transparency as to the case and the funds. financial manipulation is another major example of cult behaviour.

without acknowledging these two things, I do not think that a full argument against the idea of the SCP wiki as a cult can be possible.

the author raises a good point that illustrates both why staff acts the way it does, and why the users are so eager to imitate:

The answer is something that can turn someone into their nemesis; something that would make someone sell their soul for 1000 upvotes; that tragic commonality that binds all individuals who feel the need to write; the need to be received, but more, to be loved for it.

this is a big reason why staff clings to its power, and why people sell out their creativity, and why people emulate this behaviour, and why prolific authors burn out so fast. however, running through all of this at its core -- through the need to be received and loved -- is the power that comes with it. this is all about power.

to mention the specific example of LordStonefish, and his reaction when he found out that his interviewer was enemy of the people pixelatedharmony, now of "burning out, ragequitting the site, and going to talk shit on KiwiFarms" infamy:

[...] it was as if LSF was speaking to a leper, and that the ongoing participation in the salvation of public approval (not to mention site participation as well) was directly dependent upon LSF’s rebuke of pH as a demon who is only worthy of a terrible fate and, as we see in the screencaps, even death.

leaving my personal opinions on Harmony out of this, going from a perfectly civil interview to finding out that the interviewer was an enemy and not only dumping all of his private information to offset doxing, but also going into detail about some highly personal stuff for shock value... I don't think Harmony quite required that treatment. the fact is that, as the quote outlines above, the only way to ensure that he wouldn't be completely ostracised for fraternising with the enemy (KiwiFarms -- of which Harmony is apparently the ambassador) was to behave like a man shunning a sinner. Harmony has sinned -- she rejected the status quo, she defied the group and its authority, and LordStonefish, in order to remain safe from being tarred with the same brush -- has to react with suitable horror to her presence.

it should be noted here that while KiwiFarms has a reputation for being a hive of scum and villainy, its main reputation regarding the SCP Wiki has been for being the one place where complaints against the site are openly discussed, often by defected staff members such as pixelatedharmony and Cyantreuse, and perhaps most telling of all -- the place where a lot of accounts of sexual harassment and abuse have been filed. staff rails against it on the grounds of it being filled with people who use slurs and have questionable ideological beginnings (ironic, coming from a website which began on 4chan) -- but as a leftist myself with extensive knowledge of the wiki, I can confirm that no criticisms I've seen on there have been unfair or inaccurate, and in fact a lot of the evidence and testimony posted there is damning. it would be fair to not wish to associate with the site because of its content in other places, or even its past reputation, but the fact staff rail against it so hard when it's currently one of the only places (and certainly the only public place) where their deeds are on display? it's interesting.

of LordStonefish's reaction, the author says:

This is the behavior of a deeply religious figure.

it is. this is the reaction of a Mormon meeting an old friend who has left the church. this is the reaction of a Jehovah's Witness crossing the street to avoid a shunned neighbour. it is the behaviour, you could say, of a cult member.

in the conclusion, the author states:

And if anyone is to shoulder blame for the creation of this pathology and its complex, it are those true bigots of history and today, who don’t have the spiritual maturity to understand that someone’s sexual preference or identity shouldn’t be enough to categorically separate them from a definition of humanity; to beat, maim, and wish death upon them.

perhaps this might have been true, perhaps this might have drawn a thoughtful and damning line under the whole affair, if not for the fact that this behaviour has been occurring since long before the internet became known for its progressive and now increasingly often, ridiculous takes on inclusion and sensitivity. this kind of cultish groupthink has been ongoing since the wiki's very first inception. the cyclical worship of a group of staff members and other prolific writers (though the group are often one and the same) and their chosen theme or genre has occurred like clockwork since the late 00s. it has occurred when the website was still entrenched in its 4chan days and saying slurs was barely blinked at. it was still there back when staff was predominantly (or at least presumably) cis, white, and male. it was there when being gay was the butt of a joke and being trans was all but unthought of. it has always been there, and while the latest progressive policies and attitudes have had an effect on how the power is wielded, it has not changed the power itself. if the tides ever turn on the Terminally Online Woke ideology, staff will change with it and adapt their policies and ideologies to keep their power.

if anyone is to shoulder the blame for the creation of this pathology, it is the elitist attitude that has allowed a select few to be worshipped unquestionably. it is the power-hungry individuals who seek out fame and respect on a writing website and then use this fame and respect to treat others badly and their fear of a fall from grace to shelter others treating people worse. it is on the shoulders of the staff members who use their position to groom and sexually assault minors. it is on the shoulders of the staff members who keep it silent. as the severity of staff's secrets has increased, so has their attempts to silence dissent and reform at all costs.

the author agrees that this kind of religious think might lead to a cult in the future. the author says the cult will be a cult of vulnerability, but I disagree. I believe the cult is already there, and it is -- and always has been -- a cult of power.

[bullshittierlists]

A few notes before I start: Sorry about the white backgrounds, that’s how they showed up and I didn’t know how to fix them. Also, these summaries are going to be a lot shorter than they have in my last few posts just since there are so many characters. Anyway, let’s begin.

Literally godly, this should be your regular outfit -

Rantaro Amami - I shouldn’t have to be the first person to point out to you that he’s hot. Not to mention that the pink bottoms work wonders with his hair.

Nagito Komaeda - Hhhhhhhh

Byakuya Togami - I will admit, I’m basing this position more off of his appearance in the promo art. I don’t know how much I like this look on his regular sprite, but he’s so hot in that promo art, you don’t even know.

Show me who picked this out for you so I can thank them -

Sayaka Maizono - SHE LOOKS SO CUTE OML. I’d go through each detail, but in short: everything.

Gundham Tanaka - Shirtless Gundham, what more can I say?

Ibuki Mioda - I absolutely adore how her swimsuit doesn’t just go with her hair, but matches it. Perfection.

Korekiyo Shinguji - When the trailer first dropped and I saw the screen with all of the released swimsuits, I immediately started scanning to see if they put Korekiyo in a wetsuit and by God, they did.

Shuichi Saihara - He looks more tired than usual, but I just have a gut feeling his other sprites will look better.

Mondo Owada - I probably should’ve put him in standard, but he looks so good without a shirt on, I couldn’t possibly.

Kaito Momota - Space shorts.

Sakura Ogami - She was actually going to be somewhere in the first tier originally, but I just can’t put her there because of the color. I probably should’ve put her down with the other people with this problem (Uhhh... okay... I guess) but I couldn’t bear to.

Cute!/Cool! -

Chihiro Fujisaki - a;lskdfh;adskfijshdkjc He’s so cute, someone help. I’m drowning in cute. He looks so excited to be wearing it, too. I think this was the best choice they could’ve gone with to not give him something too masculine or feminine, fantastic choice.

Leon Kuwata - This category was originally just going to be “Cute!” but his bottoms looked so cool, I had to put him up here.

Toko Fukawa - Not only does her swimsuit look good on her, but I love the way that they designed her and Genocide Jack to be wearing the same swimsuit in different styles. Super cool.

Tenko Chabashira - I think this was one of the only palette swaps that I actually liked. There are probably a few other swaps that I didn’t even notice, but I like this one specifically because of the color swap. She looks great in pink.

Kyoko Kirigiri - I think I would’ve normally put her in standard, but her gloves are just too cool.

Mukuro Ikusaba - Love the colors and love the pattern. Simple, yet great.

Mahiru Koizumi - Mahiru, your camera. You can’t take that in the water. Mahiru- MAHIRU

Akane Owari - This is actually the swimsuit she wore during chapter 2 in the original game and I thought she looked great both times.

Chiaki Nanami - Same as Akane, so there’s not really any reason for either one to be higher or lower than the other. Peko would be up here too, but it’s really basic.

Gonta Gokuhara - I just really like the pattern and also that he’s still carrying the thing over his shoulder. It’s really weird who got to keep accessories and who didn’t, but we’ll get there.

Masaru Daimon - He just looks so cool in his shorts, I’m sure he’s excited to have them.

Shirokuma - Despite how I may feel about Shirokuma, this is a very cute outfit for them.

Standard -

Kaede Akamatsu - Definitely the best-looking of the protagonists, even if Shuichi’s higher. He’s only higher because I have faith that his faults are because of the sprite choice. If I’m wrong, sue me.

Kirumi Tojo - This is another instance of getting to keep the accessories. She still has her headband on. Why?? It wasn’t crucial to her character or anything. I get that Kyoko has backstory reasons and Gonta and Mahiru’s personalities revolve around their items, but why Kirumi? She had other things that defined her better.

Peko Pekoyama - Like I said before, basic and kinda bland. She still looks good, though.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu - He actually gained an accessory. Why does he have a necklace now? His shorts are nice, though.

Hajime Hinata - O r a n g. Or maybe red.

Maki Harukawa - Basic swimsuit, no color change whatsoever. A nice swimsuit, but nothing special.

Genocide Jack - Everything I said before about Toko’s swimsuit still applies, Genocide Jack’s is just way more boring.

Aoi Asahina - A good color swap, but not good enough to make up for her basic swimsuit.

Monomi - I like that they put her in a one-piece. Very cute. Wish they would do that all the time...

Monaca Towa - I just noticed that she is the only character other than Monomi to wear a one-piece. Why??

Makoto Naegi - The most basic swimsuit imaginable combined with his regular color scheme and pattern.

Hiroko Hagakure - I think I like that she kept her jacket? Maybe? It’s a different jacket, but it still counts.

Nagisa Shingetsu - Black and white bottoms. Okay. You do you, buddy.

Imposter - It’s fine. It’s just fine.

Izuru - I like that they gave him a separate swimsuit from Hajime, but why is it so bland and boring?

I love you, so I’ll forgive it -

Sonia Nevermind - She actually looks great and is so cute. So cute that she’d be in the top tier if not for one crucial fact. If you’ll notice, I mentioned earlier that Peko, Chiaki, and Akane are all wearing the same swimsuit here that they had worn in the original second game. However, there’s another character that appears in the scene I’m talking about that is wearing a different outfit than they are here. That charcter is Sonia, who was seen in a wetsuit in the original game. It was thrown off as a joke, but I still can’t stop thinking about how pretty she looked in that wetsuit. It’s literally my profile picture for my main blog, that’s how pretty she is wearing it. I’m mad because they’re basically agreeing that she didn’t look pretty/sexy in the wetsuit when that couldn’t be more wrong.

Celestia Ludenberg - I literally just wish she was wearing a one-piece, it can be the same style and everything. Honestly a missed opportunity.

Kotoko Utsugi - It’s just a weird pattern. Love the colors, though.

K1-B0 - I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love the floaty, but he still deserves more respect.

Miu Iruma - The pattern is... fitting... but still bad.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru - Taka... sweetie... why...?

Uhhh... okay... I guess -

Angie Yonaga - I like the look, but it’s exactly what she usually wears just without the jacket. Does that mean that she’s always wearing a swimsuit? Why? Even Asahina didn’t wear a swimsuit as her regular outfit.

Kazuichi Soda - I definitely like this color better than the piss yellow he used to have, but it’s still not great. I like that he got to keep his little logo thing, but I’m confused as to why he gets to keep his hat. It’s just like Kirumi keeping her headpiece. I’m fine with it in this case, but why him and not...? Well, we’ll get there.

Komaru Naegi - A lot of the outfits in this tier are just because I like the look and not the color scheme, including Komaru. Yellow’s just an odd fit for the shade of green that her hair is.

Tsumugi Shirogane - The same as Komaru. Nice style, but the yellow and blue clash for me.

Hiyoko Saionji - Surprise surprise, it’s the same thing. I think the style really fits her, but I hate the yellow and green. Not into it.

Junko Enoshima - Ok, we’re out of the color scheme repetition. I don’t know why she’s wearing a tanktop. It just looks a little off, but I can’t place why. I don’t know why she isn’t just wearing the regular swimsuit like she was in the promo art. If she was, I’d probably put her in Standard.

Yasuhiro Hagakure - I’ll be honest, I didn’t notice the alien pattern on his shorts until after I had already downloaded the picture and closed out of the tier list tab. If I had noticed before, I’d probably put him in Cute!/Cool! but I still don’t really like the color scheme. Fitting, but not pleasing.

Kurokuma - The only reason he’s above Kokichi is because he has a water gun and I think that’s cute.

Kokichi Oma - Literally just gut instinct. I like that he kept his checkered pattern and purple color scheme. Something just told me he should be down here.

Monokuma - It just feels wrong, but I can’t place why, same as Kokichi.

Teruteru Hanamura - I probably would’ve liked his outfit better if his shirt was buttoned up at least a little bit. Now that I think about it, Mondo should’ve had one of these, too.

Who signed off on this? -

Usami - WHY IS SHE IN A BIKINI??? SHE’S A STUFFED RABBIT.

Nekomaru Nidai - I can absolutely see him picking this swimsuit to wear, but that doesn’t mean I like it.

Mikan Tsumiki - You know why she’s here.

God no. I hate it -

Ryoma Hoshi - So Mahiru gets to keep her camera, Kirumi gets to keep her headpiece, and Kazuichi gets to keep his hat.. but Ryoma doesn’t get anything? I genuinely had to take a second to figure out who this was the first time I saw him. He can’t even have a sunhat or anything? That would’ve been cute.

Himiko Yumeno - I can’t imagine a world in which she would choose this swimsuit for herself. The color is off, the style is off, I could much more easily see her wearing something similar to Monaca’s swimsuit. Basically, just let some of the girls wear one-pieces. They don’t all have to be in bikinis.

Jataro Kemuri - The pattern. I can’t even stand to look at it long enough to figure out what it is.

Hifumi Yamada - It did take me a second to figure out what his swimsuit was, but as soon as I did, he hit the bottom of the list. Again, it’s definitely fitting, but I still hate it.

[kissmetae]

Right time

x Taehyung

❧ AU: You and your boyfriend try it without protection for the first time, allowing him to finally indulge in his hidden fetish...

|| RAW SMUT | 2.1k | x reader | masterlist in bio ||

❧ Disclaimer: This is fiction. Actions and events in these stories are often exaggerated and to a certain degree unrealistic.  Please have this in consideration when reading fiction, especially if it includes sexual content.

❧ Rating: EXPLICIT || shameless sexual content

❧ Smut features: Impreg fetish, cum fetish, top!Tae, dirty talk, grinding, body worship (towards Tae), detailed, “keeping it in”... it gets weird but sweet, rough, use of cock ring lol, creaming, creampie and more...

❧ A/N: This is raw smut from start to finish. Requested by anon & anon 

His soft pink lips moved slowly over the skin of your neck.

His kisses were delicate, pressing sweetly and leaving with a gentle smacking sound. The round freckled tip of his nose brushed against your jaw as the trail travelled higher.

 Taehyung's beautiful hands were squeezing at your waist, moving your top higher and higher with each kiss.

 His soft breathing tickled beneath your ear and an eager hand suddenly slid up under your top and squeezed your breast firmly.

 He hummed, his deep voice only making you crave him more...

You tangled a hand in his hair and he moved even closer to you.

 You were lying on your back on the large bed and Taehyung was pressed up against your side, gently grinding his bulge against your thigh.

 He was so needy...

In fact he had been needy for days without telling you.

Ever since you had the talk he couldn't get it off of his mind.

It turned it him on...

He knew he had a thing for it, but being in touch with his fetish this close only made him realize how much he had supressed it before and how much it turned him on now when it was out...

 He whimpered against your ear, rubbing himself harder and moving a hand to your clothed lowers to create friction with his palm.

 "Let’s do it" he begged. "Please... I'm so ready... I can't take it anymore..."

 The frustration within him was unbearable.

The ring was tight around the base of his length, making his straining erection even more swollen.

 He had prepared....

Refraining from touch, refraining from your gorgeous body and holding back the best he could in order to build up... But this night he just couldn't withstand it any longer and the ring did the opposite of soothing his aching need to cum.

 It all started a few days ago...

How the topic came about he didn't remember but you ended up talking about sex. He hadn't admitted it but he really enjoyed being able to talk about i comfortably. Maybe it was the knowledge of the topic being somewhat "forbidden" that enticed him.

Regardless, along the way in the conversation the topic was brought up wither you should stop using protection.

He was immediately on board, wanting to feel you raw and be able to cum inside you and knowing your body would keep it and claim it, instead of it being hindered by the condom.

There was of course 'that' risk... but that was the whole point.

You were both ready.

Long-gone ready and as ready as you could ever be to risk 'that' to happen to you. Of course Taehyung wanted it more than anything... but on the other side of it all, his fetish was awaken.

 Call it un-classy and straight up sinfully disgusting perhaps ... but the concept of breeding turned him on beyond his control.

There was just something about it... a sense of pride. A pride that he and only him could impregnate you with his own to create something beautiful.

But right now it wasn't about the beautiful.

It was about the nasty, lust-filled need and longing for the sense of pride to hear you moan as he gave you a part of him.

 He felt himself throb and bit his lower lip hard.

He would break and lose control if he didn't stop now, but the curve of your thigh against him gave the best sensation... but it was nothing compared to the temptation of the unknown sensation.

 Taehyung quickly sat up by your side.

Your thighs were clenched tight and you were well aware of how wet you probably were by now.

The sight and sound of your lover rubbing himself against you for pleasure is nothing but arousing...

The sound of his sweet deep groans as his need grew stronger and the imagines it triggered your mind to have.

 His long slender fingers unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them down your thighs along with your panties. His hands were hasty, rushing to get them off and tossed the two pieces of clothing to the floor.

 You sat up, crossing your arms and pulling your top off your head, tossing it to the floor as well along with the dismissed clothing. As you reached behind to unhook your bra Taehyung grabbed a hold of the hem of his sweats and you couldn't look away if your life depended on it...

You could clearly tell the lines through the fabric and how he wasn't wearing any underwear...

Apart from that his shirt was already long gone on the floor thanks to your eager hands.

 His upper body was a sculpted work of art.

Broad toned shoulders, distinct collarbones and a wide chest shaping the top of his V shaped torso. Soft honey golden skin, huggable and lean with a vague line by the hips and a thin trail of dark short hair leading from his belly button down.

 He was careful in his movement at first, carefully pulling down and helping himself with his free hand before yanking them down his thighs and kicking them off, revealing his long toned legs.

 But your eyes were focused on something else.

 His distinct almost heart shaped tip was a deep shade of pink caused by the black rubber by the base.

Had he been wearing a cock ring? For how long? No wonder he was so needy...

 He felt confident seeing you stare.

He knew you were attracted to him, just like he was attracted to you.

His eyes kept moving from your face to your breasts to your hip and back.

You licked your lips as they began to feel dry...

 The faint veins stood out more than usual and a drop of clear thick fluid was slowly leaking from his tip and down the head.

 Your heart was beating significantly harder, your inner thighs were glistening and your lips were slightly parted.

 He pulled his hair back with a comb of his hand through it and you practically felt ready to faint then and there from arousal and attraction.

 Taehyung swallowed and your eyes moved to his thick neck.

 This was all too much... 

How could someone be this attractive all at once? Not only had his personality captivated you but his appearance was a top tier bonus of its own.

 His hands suddenly reached out and grabbed your shoulders, pushing you back down on the bed with him on top of you on all fours.

No words were spoken but his lips were parted as well, looking more kissable than ever.

 His expression reflected what his lower area clearly showed... lust.

Lust and hunger.

But with a tiny hint of shyness to it.

 But it was all blown away when his lips suddenly came crashing down against yours in a heated kiss.

 Your hands reached for his cheeks, desperate to pull him closer. But the quickly escaped into his black curly locks, causing him to hum against the kiss in pleasure.

 There was no time for nothing more.

 He reluctantly pulled away from the kiss and pushed your thighs further apart so he could get in between them and your heart beat raced even more.

 He grabbed his thick dick with his hand, moving closer and positioned himself by your wet entrance, unable to wait anymore to feel you around him.

 His tip touched against you, pushing against your entrance and sliding in ever so slightly before his hands landed on your hips.

 With a deep groan he pushed.

Sliding in with the tip and half way in, stretching you.

Your core hugged him tight and you were already desperate to feel him fill you fully and deep.

 Taehyung moved to lie down on his forearms on top of you with his hands clinging to your side and nuzzled his face against your neck.

 With a hard thrust along with the sexiest grunt you had probably ever heard he pushed in all the way. Really pushing... he wanted to get in all the way and it was ringing every bell within you and making your arousal leak over him.

 His breathing was shaky and you held your hand pressed against his toned back.

 It felt so much better to feel him raw... the pleasure was the same but the emotional intimacy was on a whole other level.

 He pulled back and out, barely at all and thrusted back in, picking up a steady rhythm of short hard thrusts.

Each one was on the border for him... the pleasure and the ring was going to make him cum too fast, he knew it would...

A few thrusts and he was ready to explode? He shamed himself.

"Pathetic!" He scolded in his head, forcing himself to hold it until you were close at least.

 But doing this only caused him to be more vocal, whimpering loud and long with heavy moans.

To you it felt heavenly.

He thrusted faster, longer stroked but just as deep, making you feel almost euphoric as you leaned your head back.

 You held him pressed close and his head nuzzled against your neck gave you a limited view over his shoulder of his bare behind moving against you.

You had to suggest sex in front of a mirror some time... seeing it was a turn-on on its own.

 Taehyung's movements were greedy.

He fucked you hard, releasing anything and everything with each thrust that had bothered his mind.

"Your body feels amazing." He managed to groan between the heavy breathes.

 You couldn't see, neither could Taehyung but you could feel very well how he had managed to make you cream on his dick.

The thrusts felt more slick and he went even faster.

"Fuck." He groaned.

 "Taehyung..." you pleaded.

 You felt the build up getting heavier and heavier and the muscles in your legs were tensing.

 "I can feel it baby... I'm going to cum so hard." His voice was deeper than usual.

He moaned, hitting his hips harder against you with his lips by your ear.

"You're going to get every drop baby." He ensured. "I'm going to fill you up you up so good."

 His words only made it harder for you to contain yourself and you could feel the tension building up within even more and you were struggling to hold it.

"I... I'm going to cum..." You whimpered, moving your hands to his flexed biceps and squeezing them hard.

 The words alone were a relief for him.

Finally.

He thrusted harder, focusing deep and not daring to pull out any more than half way.

The pounding was enough to break your tension.

 He was letting go, all his focus now was his release.

You moaned his name again and he smirked, hitting a few more times before your orgasm claimed you hard and made your muscles tightening hard around him.

Another cursing fell from his lips, this time in Korean.

 Your breathing was heavy and your release felt like a long awaited hard finish as it all let go. 

Taehyung's thrusted in deep a final time, remaining still and pushing in when his voice failed him and he moaned loudly as he came hard and heavily.

 His breathing was so rapid you were almost concerned that he was hyper ventilating at one point when his body fell heavily on top of you.

 You could feel it...

The warmth and the throbbing...

He rocked his hips gently, letting out the entirety of his release as he began to calm down.

 "Are you ok?" He panted, whispering.

"I feel amazing..." you assured and caressed his messy curls.

"I don't think I've- ever cum this hard." He confessed, still a little out of breath.

 "It feel different."

He nodded and caressed your sides with a soft hum.

"I want to stay inside a little more... to make sure."

"Make sure of what?"

"That nothing spills out... It would be sexy seeing it leak down your thighs but I want all of it to stay in."

"How come?" You asked with a sly smile, still caressing his head.

"I like the thought of my cum being in you... and the risk of making you pregnant with my child..." 

You already knew the answer, but hearing him say it excited you.

"All we can do is hope."

"No. I'll make sure of it..."

 After a while of relaxing cuddling Taehyung carefully pulled out slowly.

As his tip slipped out you leaked slightly, unavoidable of course but Taehyung was quick to grab his pillow and placed it under you to angel your hips up.

The hormones that came with his release had washed over him hard and he turned into an overprotective huggable boyfriend in the span of a minute.

 He placed a soft kiss at your cheek before resting his head against your shoulder and placed his hand over your lower abdomen and began soothingly caressing the area. All while you traced your nails up and down the back of his neck in a relaxing manner. 

[razieltwelve]

Temper (Final Rose)

Mrs Drake was a kindly woman in her fifties who had spent the better part of thirty years teaching at the same elementary school. She had seen all manner of things throughout her tenure, but she had never seen anything quite like this. It was... terrifying.

A bit of roughhousing amongst children was hardly unusual, but she had noticed a trio of girls taking it somewhat farther than was acceptable. As she moved to intervene, the three girls pushed over another girl. The smaller girl tripped and hit her head on the ground. To Mrs Drake’s horror, there was blood.

But even that sight ceased to matter in the face of sheer, overwhelming torrent of Aura that washed over the schoolyard.

It was a suffocating miasma of pure power, the kind that drove every single adult to their knees and had most of the children gasping for air. For a split-second, Mrs Drake was convinced she was going to die, that some awful predator was going to grab her and tear her to pieces.

The moment passed, and that murderous intent, that ravenous desire to rip, tear, and maim focused instead on the trio of girls. They dropped like puppets with their strings cut. Gasping for air on the ground, they thrashed and clawed at their throats and mouths in a combination of terror and panic.

The warm sunshine that filled the playground turned an angry orange, and a small figure loomed over the trio.

It was Diana Yun-Farron.

Mrs Drake had read the file on the little girl. All of the teachers had. It said, in no uncertain terms, that Diana was the equivalent of an A Tier hunter or higher, and that the school was to contact her sister or her parents immediately if she showed any signs of genuine aggression.

Despite the graveness of the matter, none of them had taken it too seriously. Diana a danger? She was a bit quirky, but she was also one of the most cheerful and affable children Mrs Drake had ever met. She was always happy to talk about her pet snake, and she was more than happy to play with the other children despite being smart enough to repair the school’s broken air conditioner on a particularly hot day. Indeed, the scrawny, ragamuffin of a girl was one of the most popular children in school, a position she used to shield some of her less popular friends from bullies and other miscreants.

The child who’d been pushed over was one such friend, and the trio must have waited until Diana had gone back to the classroom to get something to make their move. They probably wished they hadn’t.

Diana might have been tiny, but right now, she was like a giant, her presence towering over everyone else in the playground. Her eyes gleamed like twin pools of molten lava, and instead of pupils, there were strange, twisting spirals of incandescence. She tilted her head to one side in a gesture that was distinctly inhuman, and Mrs Drake realised that she didn’t have hands anymore.

She had claws - long, jagged claws that looked like they’d been ripped out of someone’s nightmares.

Slowly, with those strange, blazing eyes shining like beacons, Diana reached forward...

Chop.

Diana rounded on the threat with a low, ominous growl.

Chop.

“That’s enough.” Averia lowered the hand she’d used to chop Diana over the head. “You’re scaring everyone.” She glanced down at the girl who’d hit her head. “Put the claws away and help your friend instead.”

Diana shook herself, and that aura of overwhelming doom vanished like smoke on the breeze. Kneeling by her friends side, Diana’s hands - and they were hands again instead of claws - began to drip a strange, viscous fluid onto the wound on her friend’s head.

“Mrs Drake,” Averia said, glaring down at the three girls who were trying to get their breath back. “You should do something about these three. It would be a shame if something happened to them.”

X     X     X

Author’s

It’s easy to forget because of how affable she is, but civilians are essentially cannon fodder against Diana, even as a kid. It’s not usually something that comes up because she very rarely looses her temper for real, but when she does lose it... watch out. This is especially true when stuff happens to her friends because she knows how fragile they are. 

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here or on Audible here.

[radiojamming]

This a weird prompt but would you write jonmichael? Asking solely because I want to read Elias and the archives staff dealing with that

good-ish AU where sasha’s still sasha and everyone’s cool with stuff, i guess? :DDD

- - -

The door-that-wasn’t-there-a-minute-ago slams open against the wall, shaking the shelves and knocking one cheap vase to the floor in a small explosion of sad porcelain shards and accumulated dust. Martin lets out a high-pitched, “Jesus Christ!” in surprise as much as raw shock when Jon Sims himself staggers out the door like a teenager doing the walk of shame. Granted, he’s bleeding from his hairline and one sleeve of his sweater appears to just be missing, but he looks more sheepish than injured.

Just as he makes the last step over the threshold-that-shouldn’t-be, Martin sees a vague person-ish shape wobble in the mysterious beyond. And it is, in fact, wobbling, like a bobblehead or one of those playground toys shaped like horses that waver on oversized springs until they fling some unfortunate child headfirst into sand. Extended metaphor it may be, but the wobbly thing gives a high, wavering giggle before cooing, “Don’t forget this, love!” in a voice tiered in multiple pitches like an eldritch wedding cake. Jon turns just in time for an arm-that-shouldn’t-be-that-long-oh-my-god-what-the-fuck to come shooting out of the door, an iPhone clutched pinched between its enormous fingers. Martin might be hallucinating, but he thinks the razor-sharp fingernails are lacquered in sparkly purple nail varnish. 

He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it before Jon gingerly takes the phone with a mumbled, “Thanks,” and the hand recedes back into the hellish landscape beyond the door.

“Of course!” garbles the wobbly thing. Then, with a range of voices topped off with an impressive soprano flourish as light as meringue, it yodels, “Call me!”

As abruptly and shockingly as the door appeared, it disappears with a sharp crack, causing the shelves to slam back into place with a small cataract of old books falling into the pile of broken ceramic.

Jon and Martin stand in the stuffy office, each caught in the awkward position of how the hell do you talk about that? 

Finally, Jon gives Martin the most soul-deep, weary look before quietly beseeching, “Please don’t tell anyone.”

All Martin can do is nod before Jon shuffles out to the hallway

- - -

Sasha sees him at the flower stall again. 

Through the warped windowpane, she watches him scoop up a great, garish bouquet representing nearly every spectrum in the visible rainbow, and some colours that might not exist save for the eyes of the mantis shrimp. When she gets to ground level and sees him semi-properly, he’s just a blond man in a beanie, carefully regarding a sorry bunch of daffodils held together by what looks like clingfilm cinched shut with twine. Rather than being all spooky and mysterious, Sasha thinks he’s actually deliberating. There’s a pinch in his brow as he lowers the daffodils in favor of prodding the drooping lower lid of a sorry little orchid suffering in London’s less-than-tropical climes.

Sasha kind of feels… sorry for him?

Granted, he’s a monster with terrifying monster hands and monster tendencies and apparently a taste for caffeine, but he really looks caught on what to get. That in mind, she does remember that he bought lilies the last time he was around. Maybe that was less of a coincidence and this Michael creature really does like flowers; or he may have some fellow monster friend that he deems worthy of buying flowers for. Honestly, Sasha doesn’t want to think of what kind of friends Michael keeps.

Against her better judgement and sense of self-preservation, Sasha walks across the street to where Michael forlornly weighs his options. He looks up at her approach, and the first impression she gets is that his eyes are more like spinning tops prone to rotate anti-clockwise. She blinks and sees stationary blue eyes regarding her with confusion, and then… relief?

Huh.

“Sah-shah Jaaayymeeesss!” he almost sings, lifting up the dying daffodils like a salute. “What a pleasure to see your radiant face again!”

“Michael,” she replies, a little colder than she intends. Last time they met, there were far more meaty hands and worms involved, and she’d rather get to work unscathed.

If he thinks the reply is chilly, he makes no sign of it. Instead, he flops the tortured flowers around in his terrible hands. “Actually, I was hoping to see one of you lovely little Institute-dwellers around. I think I gave Martin a bit of a fright laaaaast time!”

Sasha frowns, but can definitely picture Martin having to be peeled off the ceiling after a Michael encounter. “Oh,” is all she says.

Michael goes on, gleefully undaunted. “You see, you and I have a mutual acquaintance! And I think he’s in need of a little—” He gives the daffodils a vigorous shake. “—cheering up these days! But I just don’t know what he’d like! Silly me for not being obseeeeervant!”

“I… A mutual acquaintance?”

“Yeeeessss! Your lovely boss!”

“Elias?”

Michael laughs. Well, more like he laughs in a way that sounds like he laughed ten minutes ago and ten minutes into the future, and then layered the sounds over one another like phyllo dough in a hellish baklava. It’s impossible, but Sasha hears it all the same. “Noooo!” he giggles. “Not in a million endless cycles of time or those dimensions yet unperceiveeeeeed!”

Sasha won’t even start on that statement, except that it isn’t Elias, which means it has to be— 

Oh. Jesus.

Grubby, curmudgeonly, insomniac Jesus.

“Jon?” she gasps.

Michael laughs again, louder and higher so that a glass breaks somewhere in the distance. “Yeeeesssss! Poor Jonathan, always working so hard in that dismal cave you call an archive. I offered him office space that would appeal more to a sense of aestheticism, but he… Oh, what did he say? He thought it was a little heavy on the—” And here he speaks in an exact mimic of Jon’s dry voice when he says: “Impossible, improbable, and honest to God, Michael, my brain would shatter into a thousand pieces if I looked at that painting for another minute.” Michael dissolves into a fit of giggles before saying, “It’s just a lost Hieronymus Bosch painting, honestly.”

So Michael McMeatyhands is buying flowers for Jonathan Sims. Sasha’s having a hell of a time wrapping her head around that particular fact. 

The infernal giggling stops and Michael seems to circle (spiral?) back to his previous predicament. Dying daffodils or suffering orchids?

For a lack of anything more to say, Sasha wordlessly points to a bouquet of slightly more enthusiastic-looking daisies, bobbing peacefully in a tin pail of water. “Those,” is all she can manage to say. 

Michael looks thrilled. He actually hums some impossible tune (in full SATB with orchestral arrangement, all localised in his throat) as he puts the daffodils back, scoops up the daisies, and drops four quid into the stall owner’s hands with a wet, meaty thwap that the owner doesn’t seem to hear. Then, Michael swivels back toward Sasha and grins with the corners of his lips somehow curling up near his eyes like a particularly twisty Cheshire Cat.

“Thank you, Miss James!” he says. “You’re a lifesaver!”

“You’re… welcome? I think?”

But Michael’s already walking away, taking steps in a gait that doesn’t seem to match the rhythm of the rest of his body, like two halves of entirely different people drunkenly attempting synchronicity. Sasha half-expects his legs to walk away from his torso.

Toward Jon. 

She sighs and rubs a hand over her face before heading in the direction of the Underground station.

- - -

The boss is dating someone. This, Tim is absolutely sure of. He’s watched Jon like a hawk for a week now, carefully comparing his moods in the morning with how early he left work the night before. Long work nights equal really bad mood. Long not work nights equal better mood with less shouting and calling people morons under his breath. This is good.

This is very good.

Tim is pleased with his enviable knowledge. Whoever somehow won the heart of the boss must be a pretty special person, or at least someone with an endless well of patience. Or maybe they’re Jon’s opposite? Either way, Tim’s got a hankering to send them a box of chocolate as a thank you for chilling the boss out and making him more tolerable to work with. 

He tries to picture who this mystery person is, as Jon’s definitely not the type of person to take his personal life to work with him, inasmuch as he likes to take work home. Tim pictures someone easygoing, like a Margaritaville type. They balance Jon’s stick-up-assery out, maybe giving him massages over the back of the couch while Jon watches dry documentaries about the actual speed of drying paint. In his mind’s eye, Tim gives this person a hideously neon Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses, but a winning smile that melts Jon’s ice-locked heart and makes it so he can’t help but smile back.

Tim likes them, whoever they are.

And when he gives Jon a little wink after dropping off a follow-up report, says, “Had a good night?” in a way more than a tiny bit suggestive, he only relishes a teensy bit in how dark Jon’s cheek become and how he ducks his head down. He mumbles something before actually thanking Tim for the report.

Yeah, this is awesome. Tim owes Jon’s mystery partner a thank you card and maybe a cake. 

- - -

“Eliaaaaas.”

“Michael.”

Staring. Lots of staring. Cold, unflinching irises to a set of psychedelic, rotating disco balls set in a grinning face. Behind Michael, blue and purple streaks like the top of a wildberry Pop-Tart flash about and dance madly as Michael gives him the strangest of staredowns. Occasionally, his head appears to flip upside-down a few times on his swirly straw of a neck, and half of his teeth try to glitch through his lips in a way that Elias thinks of as an attempt at a sneer.

Finally, Elias sighs and calmly folds his hands on the top of his desk, ignoring the waves of tangible static pouring out onto the floor and possibly leaving a stain on the carpet. That’s going to be difficult to explain to the janitorial staff. “We may have to set some ground rules,” he says.

“I’ll bring him home by eleven,” Michael cackles in reply.

Elias narrows his eyes just as he feels Beholding roll its great omnipresent gaze in irritation.

“I mean to say that you’re not to interfere in Institute business any further than you are right now,” Elias retorts. “I should completely ban all Spiral-related statements on grounds of personal involvement.”

Michael grins. His smile rises up to his forehead like a crescent moon before rolling down the side of his face and hooking back up into the empty space where a normal mouth should be. “I can make this weirder. I can spiral any statement in this place. Every little word can bend in and around on itself like a pipe cleaner.”

Elias glares. “You won’t.”

“You can’t stop me!” Michael sings. “But I’ll keep courting your Archivist nice and proper as long as I’d like, or he’d like.”

“If this is an attempt to draw him into the Spiral’s influence—”

When Michael laughs this time, it seems to be drawn from every laugh that was ever laughed in the history of the muscular and diaphragmatic spasms that caused them. It’s so charged, so loud and explosive that Elias nearly winces at it. And when it’s over, there’s a vacuum of sound in its wake, so it takes a full minute for Elias to hear anything properly again.

Then, Michael taps his horrible fingers on Elias’ desk, eliciting a sharp tak-tak-tak-tak-tak that repeats in on itself fifty times over. “Not everything is about influence,” Michael hisses through too many teeth. “Not every attempt on a person is to draw them in and mark them, unlike what you do. Maybe sometimes, one of us can authentically like one of them. Is that too hard for you to understand, Man-of-the-Eye?”

Beholding tries to truly See Michael, but something about the Spiral’s nature twists the image. 

“No,” Michael goes on, followed by another round of tak-tak-tak-tak-tak. “I rather like the Archivist. And he likes me. Aaaand if you try to get in the way of us, I will peeeeerrrrsonallyyyyy claw your precious little eyes out of your sockets. Understand?”

Elias doesn’t have time to make a reply. Michael is gone in a gunpowder-bright flash of light and a shock of sound. If there was a door, it’s gone. So he sits alone in his office, staring at the space where the Spiral was, and he feels something terribly empty and terribly familiar.

- - -

Jon picks their next date and opts for something as normal as the last one was strange. He chooses a walk at St James Park, eating ice cream and admiring the pelicans while Michael regales him with some bizarre story that sounds more like a backwards recitation of the Jabberwocky poem. He pauses in between stanzas to eat more of his pistachio ice cream with a delighted gusto before he presses on in gibberish.

Something about it makes Jon feel oddly warm and content, even as the early spring wind chills him.

Their last date was to Annwn, which Jon had originally suspected was in Wales. He was half-right; it was Wales as much as it was also the traditional world of the afterlife in ancient Welsh rites. It was rather lovely and Jon thinks very highly of their honey cakes, although he suspects he probably wasn’t supposed to eat them. 

But Michael looks just as pleased to be in this park as he was to be in ancient Welsh paradise. His Jabberwockish story comes to an end and he finishes the rest of his cone before throwing the little paper ring into a nearby litter bin. Then, he stretches his arms out to the side and sighs in contentment. “Just bonny, as they say!” he cheers before reaching down and taking Jon’s free hand in his. It’s got a mind-boggling weight and an odd texture, while appearing to be a normal hand. At first, it gave Jon such an acute sense of discomfort that he found himself involuntarily withdrawing. Now, it’s just another aspect of Michael that he’s learned to like.

Love, maybe. He hasn’t thought on that overmuch.

Yet here they are, holding hands like all the other couples in the park. It’s so simple, so normal. Jon’s life has been so ridiculous lately that the fact he’s holding a Spiral avatar’s nigh-impossible hand on a date in a park is just… maybe the most normal thing that’s happened so far. Michael’s not trying to kill him or throttle his mind to the point of madness.

They’re happy.

Jon’s happy.  

He smiles, and so does Michael. Yes, Michael’s smile is making an attempt to summit his head like Everest before flickering back into place like he remembers where he is, but he does smile and it’s perfectly authentic. 

It could be weirder, and for once, that thought delights Jon.

[draconivn]

009 | His Little Writer

Summary: Forget being a seamstress, you’re a writer! You’re in the middle of your work and there’s that particular scene that frustrates you to no end. Masamune comes to check in on you and review your work, then he has an idea to try and inspire you. Pairing: Masamune (Ikemen Sengoku) x Reader Warnings: Smut, cockwarming, creampie, implications of master-pet A/N: Shoutout to @cherrydangome​ for co-writing this with me! I decided to try to make this a little more relatable to the fandom by changing from a fashion designer job to the reader being a writer. So you can put yourself better in the shoes of the reader :) suffer with me I’ll also be stopping in putting the ‘creampie’ warning after this. Just... know that there will be creampies but... short fiction may or may not have it, depending on the story.

•• His hands gripped her thighs and held her close to him, ensuring she wouldn't move away.

Everything was getting blurry as the ink stained the paper with my words. My chest was heaving as my left hand released the edge of the desk to slam my palm against the surface, my knees pushing into the cushion I was partially sitting on. I couldn't keep writing. My mind was going blank, and my chest was heaving for air through my parted lips. I couldn't stop the moans from falling from my mouth, the lovemaking portion I had been writing into my newest story becoming a jumbled mess.

"Why did you stop, kitten?" came a voice from behind me, a breath fanning itself between my thighs at my folds.

I shivered, my lashes fluttering shut.

"You're not writing," the voice reminded me.

Just as I had stopped, so did the reason my breath was so short. "M-Masamune…" I whimpered. It wasn't too long ago before I decided to write some sort of action love story, hoping to squeeze in some sort of lovemaking scene once the main couple got together. Unfortunately, it was one of those walls. A stupid writer's block that I forced myself to write through and ended up with the most garbage smut I had ever written. Masamune had taken the grand opportunity to waltz in and soothe me, but when he saw what I was writing, I swore I saw a glimmer of mischief in that blue eye of his.

He cheered me up and cheered me on, saying that I could do it and that he wanted to take me somewhere after I was done.

I was ready to give up but he told me to keep trying. I grabbed a new piece of paper and tried to rewrite the scene, not knowing what he was up to until his hands wandered and my clothing started to hike up.

His reason?

To give me inspiration on what to write.

“Kitten…” came his warning tone. 

“I-I just n-need a moment to think of what to write…” I breathed out, gripping my brush more firmly and dipping it into some ink. My cheeks felt warm as I tried to regain my breath, my brush soon taking to the page. 

•• His breath fanned against her folds, inciting a shiver to run down her spine and he watched her with a hunger that made his tongue

A moan spilled out of my mouth before I could catch myself, my chest starting to press into the desk and the brush in my hand trembled, threatening to stain the page with unwanted ink. I could feel the way he dragged his tongue along my wet folds, flattening to make sure that he had every bit of me covered and dripping into his mouth. Shakily, I craned my head as best as I could to describe what he was doing to me in that third person narrative I pursued in this story.

•• flatten, dragging a long strip from her entrance and up to my clit.

… I stuttered a curse under my breath.

“What happened?” came his low voice, his tongue giving a light flick to my clit and my hips jerked with a whimper.

Once I regained my voice, I answered him as best as I could. “I-I wrote in first person by accident…” It was a mix of frustration and annoyance at myself to get so caught up, but Masamune was more distracting than anything else. I reached for a new piece of paper so I could rewrite what I already had done on the previous sheet before I felt his lips press to the inside of my thighs apologetically. 

“Just use the first paper and cross it out, kitten. It’s a rough draft, isn’t it?” There was no doubt he knew he was right in suggesting that to me, especially when the trail of his lips started to move higher to where it was earlier. He was reminding me that there wasn’t a point in starting all over again, when he was going to “inspire” me further with the tiers that caught my folds and gave a suck.

I gasped at the sensation, quickly pushing away the blank sheet to return to my old sheet so I could scratch out my mistake with a correction on the pronoun of ‘my’ to ‘her’. I started to write again, trying to not get caught up in the sensations of his sucking on my folds, the little wags of his tongue that had me biting my lower lip to try and stifle my noises. He was trying to inspire my writing, and yet, I’m sure he was getting a kick out of it, but I couldn’t give him that satisfaction just yet. My hand moved faster across the page, trying to get my words out faster before my mind blanked.

My chest was heaving by the time I felt his tongue move away, but only for a moment as he gave my folds a sweet kiss that made my legs quiver in his grasp. I used what opportunity to let the spur of writing propel my hand across the page, when my free hand suddenly flew back behind me, tangling in the mess of brown locks and I cried out, arching against the desk.

His mouth was pressed firmly to my folds, parted open with a firmed tongue pressing and wriggling past my entrance, and against my walls. His tongue moved like he was tasting me, a groan muffled and sent vibrations against my sensitive folds, pleasurable electricity coursing through my body at the sensation.

“O-Oh god… M-Masamune–” I gasped, my brush shaking in my hand once more. 

His tongue glided in and out, tasting me like a starved man. His fingers gripped my thighs firmly, threatening to leave marks and his head craned to make sure he could taste everything he could reach. One of his hands had snaked to the front, rubbing two fingers against my clit so well that I was actually thankful I was kneeling on a cushion, my legs already quivering.

My lashes fluttered shut as I lost myself to the pleasure he gave me, moaning more freely, my hips rolling back towards his talented tongue.

His mouth left me a moment later, fingers still rubbing my clit. “You stopped writing again.”

“I-I… I don’t remember what I was writing anymore…”

“Oh? If you stop writing, then I guess I’ll have to punish you.”

His hand shifted between my legs, making sure that he was still rubbing my clit, but with his mouth freed to talk to me, another finger teased at my folds, pushing and prodding. 

“I-If I stop… w-will I be able to touch y-you too…?” I stammered out.

“Write first, touch later, kitten. Or I’ll have to tie you down to the bed.”

I craned my head as best as I could to look at him, despite barely being able to see over the scrunched up material at my waist. “A-Are you going to make love to me in the bed if you do?”

“I’ll make your body sing for me over and over again, kitten.”

For a moment, I bit my lower lip, rolling my hips back onto his fingers even more. “S-Suddenly… punishment doesn’t … s-seem so bad…” My words came out shamelessly, a cry out interrupting me as his finger suddenly crooked deep inside me. I couldn't help rocking my hips needily against his fingers, the ink staining the rest of the page I was using. I could feel his warmth at my back, an arm slipping around my waist and his breath so close to my ear as he kept pushing that finger in and out of me, meeting my hips.

"Your voice is music to my ears, kitten," he breathed huskily into my ear. "I love the faces you make when I touch you like this."

I had lost all sense of proper coherency, like everything was a complete blur and I was losing control of my body just as much. The hand that I once had in his hair fell to rest over his hand on my waist, but less than a moment that I had done so, something was tied around my wrist. 

I was pulled out of my reverie by the movement of my wrists, my walls clenching up around the finger as I tried to focus my vision. The world around me went in every direction possible until I was on my back, the soft material of the futon underneath me and my hands bound by my obi cord above my head. My head craned weakly to look at the tuft of brown hair as Masamune's lips made their way along my now-exposed hips to my abdomen. My chest heaved for air, as he looked up at me with a confident and smug smirk. In all that little scuffle, my clothes had been undone in quick tugs of the complicated knots I made and I was fully exposed for him to touch.

And I couldn't touch him.

With a shift of his body, he propped himself up between my legs, hands running along my thighs that I shivered and mewled. My cheeks were flushed as I looked up at him, so vulnerable and exposed. 

His strong shoulders tempted me to place my legs over them, the thought of being helpless like this was very much arousing. "You look like you want something, kitten," he teased, shifting up briefly to capture the peak of my breast in his mouth.

"I-I…" My body was already arching up against him, the delicious warmth of his mouth on my sensitive buds coupled with his fingers rubbing my clit already making a knot form in the pit of my stomach. My other breast was tended to when he switched, using his free hand so that both sides were not neglected as my pleasure rose. 

But something about the way he touched me made it hard to reach that peak. Like he was holding back, making sure that this would draw itself.

"M-Masamune…" I whined. "P-Please… I-I need… t-to cum…"

"Not yet." He knew me better than that. "But that's not what you wanted to say earlier, was it?"

"I-I…"

"Go on." His finger pulled out of me for emphasis, and he gripped my hips so I wouldn't chase after him. 

"M-May… May I…" This was embarrassing. "May I… put my legs over your shoulders…? P-Please?"

It didn't seem like the request he was expecting, looking surprised for a moment before he grinned and hooked his fingers under my thighs. "As you wish." 

My legs were spread a bit more so he could pull them up over each shoulder while he knelt between my thighs. The position left me angled and slightly off the futon, weak and exposed as his kimono was undone to expose the skin there. 

His hands ran along the expanse of my legs as I shivered with a lidded gaze, his own hunger dancing in his eye as he stared at me. Then he brought one of my legs close to his lips, leaning down a bit to press open-mouthed kisses along my calves.

"M-Masamune-"

His teeth grazed my skin, nipping as he looked at me like he was warning me. My leg jerked at the bite, but he held it firm where it was until I nodded to show I understood. His kisses were reverent yet sexy, ensuring that I watched every single thing he did: from the way his tongue dragged along the underside of my knee joint and closer towards my thighs teasingly.

My demands were only a suggestion, but never the ruling factor when he was in charge. 

And like every time he took charge, he made sure to remind me with his cock that prodded and drove into my walls right then and there. My head tipped back to cry out, my wrists fighting against the cord and my chest arched up off the bed. His cock spread me apart, making sure that every bit of my walls was formed to his shape and the head pressed so deeply that my legs trembled on his shoulders. Without hesitation, he leaned down and planted his hands on the sheets with my legs still dangling, though there was definitely a stretch and a deeper penetration of his cock that I became aware of the moment he rotated his hips in circles.

"O-Oh god…" I gasped out, tipping my head back.

"That's it, kitten. Show me how good I make you feel." His head craned to pepper kisses along my jaw, trailing his way down to my throat in search of that one spot that he always knew to bite down on.

"Mm!" My hands fought against my binds, fingers seeking purchase but it was the way his hips moved, filling me so perfectly that I was undeniably helpless and submissive in this state.

His tongue soothed where he bit, pausing from his thrusts to roll his hips firmly into me while making a necklace of love bites on my skin. His breath fanned against my skin with every lick, his mouth cool against my hot skin until he found my breasts once again. Every movement of his hips, the curve of his cock, the head that prodded me so deeply enough to make me shudder, the sucks of my nipples to make me arch up with a cry, all made sure to remind me that only he could give me this pleasure.

My walls were wet, the embarrassing sound of squelching wetness lubricating his movements to move with more ease as he re-angled himself to start pushing harder and faster. It was like the wind knocked out of me, pushing itself out in a scream past my lips.

He no longer took his time with me, the way his cock was throbbing so deliciously every time he slammed in, to the point that the sound of skin slapping against skin started to join the chorus of our lovemaking. His groans were hardly quiet, the way he grunted and growled sending shivers up my spine.

I wanted to drag my nails along his back but pulling him down and making my legs stretch further wasn't an option when I was weak to his ministrations. I could feel the pleasure knotting and coiling in the pit of my stomach just before he pulled away from my aching breasts, propping himself up on his hands and knees and rolled upwards into me. My mouth dropped with a loud gasp, the way the head of his cock stroked upwards against my sensitive and wet walls. 

I didn't miss the way he smirked, repeating the motion again that I shuddered.

"Tell me what my kitten wants," he breathed out.

I was far too breathless and beyond words to be able to tell him, especially when he loved getting me to this point in lovemaking. He once said I was a vision of ecstasy when I was like this. But I wasn't going to be able to get what I needed by staying silent, for a lack of better words. "P-Please… I-I need…! T-To cum-!" There were other words I could and wanted to say, but my mind was too caught up in saying the straight-forward version.

His cock throbbed against my walls and I tried to shift my hips as best as possible, weakly using my ankles on his shoulders as my leverage. But he retaliated with a pull-out of his cock, leaving only the tip inside me and I whined. "Say it, kitten. I know you want to," he teased, shallowly thrusting. 

I could tell he was holding out until I said it, the colour on my cheeks flushing even more deeply as I knew very well what he wanted me to say. "M-May…" Oh god, that feels so good… just a bit more deeper, please… My words were disappearing until he pulled back and left me whining again.

"Go on, kitten. Tell me."

Biting my lower lip, I looked up at him with needy, yet shaky eyes. "M-May I have… some… m-milk, p-please?"

His smirk grew wider, his hands pulling my legs off his shoulders to spread wide and knees planted firmly to the robes that still hung off my body and had become our temporary bedding. Once he had himself stable, he promptly slammed in, taking my screams and breath with it. He didn't give me a moment to comprehend and adjust, immediately pulling back so he could slam back in just as deep and just as fast. His cock made sure my walls were moulding to him when it could, spreading me open and grazing every spot inside me that had me crumbling.

Then my pleasure crashed down over me like a tidal wave, sending me arching up and screaming out, my head tipped back as my hands fought against my restraints, my body seizing up from head to the toe. My walls clamped down, making him groan at how much harder it became to pull back out like my body was trying to pull him in with every contraction.

His hips bucked and stuttered, his feet shuffling forward as he growled as my tightness welcomed him so deeply. His fingers gripped the underside of my knees so firmly, grinding to make sure he filled me completely with his cock.

I could feel how the warmth of his cum spilled into me, painting my walls. I could hardly open my eyes, forcing myself to try to see how my tiger looked as he orgasmed. I wanted to admire the way his face scrunched up, the drop of his mouth as he groaned then grit his teeth with that sexy growl. I wanted to relish in the knit of his brows, the haze of desire in his eye but the moment we made eye contact, he bucked hard against a very sensitive spot. I was already sensitive from orgasming that the one rough hit was enough to make me tip again, making sure to squeeze every drop of cum from him into my waiting walls.

He growled and groaned loudly, pulling my legs around his waist so he could hold me close and press himself to me. His cock throbbed inside my walls until he could come no more, but the way it was still hard as I wrapped my bound arms around his neck had me breathlessly purring for him.

"Mm… thank you for the milk…"

He chuckled against my neck as he caught his breath, peppering kisses along my skin up to my lips. "Do you feel inspired now?"

"Mm… inspired to write? Yes." I leaned up to press a kiss to plant a soft kiss to his lips. "But I feel more inspired to play with my tiger."

He grinned. "Good. Because I don't think I can handle another hour of you locking yourself in your room to write your stories."

"You do know my door was open, right?"

"I know how you get when you have your inspiration streaks, kitten. Nothing stops you. I was lucky enough to be able to get you when you were frustrated over that scene."

"Mm… yes, that scene," I giggled. I called how upset and pouty I got with him when the lovemaking scene I wrote didn't work out. "But I might just scratch it out even though I feel inspired."

He arched a brow. "Why?" Angling my hands to touch his hair seemed to remind him of my bound hands, his own reaching to bring them in front of him and used his teeth to pull the knot undone. 

My words nearly died on me, the faint chuckle pulling me out of my trance. "Do I want to let the whole world know how the One-Eyed Dragon makes love to me? I think that's information I want to keep to myself, tiger."

He laughed. "Could you live with yourself if you leave that scene as it is?" His laugh grew louder as I looked at him horrified. "I don't think I can downplay how I make love to you, kitten. You turn me on so much that you make it impossible to do a half-bad job."

"I didn't think it'd be possible for you to do a half-bad job, Masamune. You feel so amazing just being inside me…" My voice started to trail off as I described how it felt, looking up into his eye to see the haze of desire clouding over. "M-Masamune…?"

"Hm?" he asked quietly, leaning down to my lips.

"May I… please have more milk?" I asked softly against his lips.

He stopped just short of a kiss, his breath against my tiers. "You can have all the milk you want, kitten," he breathed out, before he took my lips. His hands slid off the robes from our bodies before he sat up and had me straddling him, his tongue pushing into my mouth as I gasped at gravity pulling me down onto his cock. His hands gripped my hips, guiding me against his own moving hips to grind his cock inside my walls.

I was a shuddering mess, my fingers seeking the plains of his back until I was clinging and clawing at his skin, my work lying on the desk, forgotten.

I wanted all of this to myself. I didn't need to write this in.

[love-killed-the-superstar]

i finally finished cass week!! its been lots of late nights but so much fun. thank you everyone whos been reading these. tonight i have some real good cassunzel/unknighted dream content for yall, so enjoy if that’s your thing

CASSANDRA APPRECIATION WEEK DAY 7 - FINALE

How is one supposed to feel, showing up at their girlfriend's wedding to somebody else?

Cassandra has been through the whole spectrum of emotions in the run up to it all. There's been joy, of course, and in abundance – these are her best friends, taking that next important step in their lives. While she... takes her own next step. Alone.

She has poured over detailed illustrations Rapunzel sent her in letters of the various wedding patterns she's considered. It's amazing how much input Cass has had in the whole thing, considering it isn't even her wedding, especially when also factoring in the distance between them. She's helped pick out the flavour of punch while hunched over a campfire on a cold night; she's backed up Rapunzel's desire to forego shoes, even in the royal cathedral, in her underthings while her clothes hung up to dry after she got caught in a flash flood.

Half the time it doesn't feel like her place, and she withholds her opinion. Or she'll write back something along the lines of 'you should ask your future husband, not me'. But then Rapunzel counters that with 'well, you're like my future wife, so your opinion is equally important'. And... well, that just leads to other emotions that are even harder for her to deal with.

The flip side of the coin is the disappointment she feels, knowing that Rapunzel can only marry one person and Eugene is the clear winner, in both the royal family's favour and the court of public opinion. After all, who would come to a wedding where the princess marries the very person that nearly destroyed the kingdom? Cassandra can't fault Rapunzel for making the choice to marry Eugene; he was in Rapunzel's life first, he's begrudgingly grown on the people of Corona despite his shady past, and during the mess that she caused he stepped up and took responsibility. He loves her. He'll do anything for her.

She's happy for them, really. But the whole situation still feeds back into this complex she's worked so hard to overcome these last couple years. Marriage just a... a ceremony, a piece of paper, a legal contract. A wedding is a big, over-dramatic party that she would never in a million years want to take part in anyway. And hasn't she always told herself, since she was an angry little kid rolling her eyes at the Day of Hearts' puppet show, that romance, matrimony, all that bullshit, is something she's never wanted for herself?

It's petty, plain and simple, to have such a sting of jealousy at the idea of Rapunzel and Eugene marrying. They deserve their happy ending! More than anybody! Cass will just... have to figure out a way to be okay with that. Chasing destiny on the open road is her happy ending anyway, and that's no life for a... what would she even be? Princess consort? Duchess?

...Fine. She doesn't need a title or status to be happy. So much of her identity has been clinging to words other people might use to describe her and it can only end if she wishes it so.

All the same – it would be nice, just for a day, if she could be Rapunzel's bride.

…

Cass doesn't mean to show up late to the ceremony, although she's sure that Lance will slide up and make some comment at the reception anyway. Maybe she just didn't want to get up that morning. Maybe it's because she stayed up late last night, camping out at the lagoon, thinking about the vows they took all those years ago. After all, wasn't that modelled after a private wedding, between the two rulers who bound their kingdoms together? A marriage that is recognised in Corona's history books? By extension, aren't her and Rapunzel already married, in their own way?

That should be enough.

By the time Fidella and Owl rouse her, their casual annoyance morphing into urgency as the sun rises higher in the sky, she already knows she won't make it on time. She won't even have time to change, after Rapunzel spent weeks pestering her for her clothing measurements to have an appropriate outfit tailored. Thankfully, Raps knows her well enough not to commission a dress.

Cass rides like she's never ridden before, determined to get there before the vows. What will Rapunzel and Eugene think of her if they look out to the pews and see she isn't there, after all she's done to convince them she's fine with it all? She promised herself, the moment she held the pale lilac wedding invitation in her hands six months prior, that she wouldn't ruin their big day for them. Even if she shows up with windswept hair and yesterday's travelling clothes on, she has to be there, cheering them on.

With her and Fidella's combined determination they make the journey from the lagoon to the castle walls in record time. Standing at the gate, she purses her lips in annoyance as Stan and Pete, in a frustrating display of competence, ask for proof of ID and her invitation.

“Stan, Pete, this is ridiculous. You know me. You've known me since I was a kid.”

“Sorry, Cassandra,” Stan says sagely, as she begrudgingly hands over her Corona citizen identification card. “Rules are rules, and this is a big day for the princess.”

“Besides, we need to be on the lookout for shapeshifters,” Pete adds on, holding her invitation to the light to search for the subtly printed Corona emblem on the paper. “It's a recent thing we've been told to watch out for. A couple years ago there was an incident at the goodwill festival, see.”

“Pete, that was also me,” Cass says flatly.

“Never can be too careful,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Captain's orders and all. We good here, Stan?”

“Yup, everything looks legitimate. Welcome back to Corona, Cassandra!” Stan says, reverting back to his cheerful disposition.

“I am going to kill Eugene for this. Figuratively, of course.”

Stan motions for the gates to open, and as they do, a narrow stream of what looks to be wine rushes past Fidella's hooves. She moves aside slightly, snorting a little in confusion.

“Eww,” mutters Pete, exchanging a confused look with Stan before clearing his throat. “Well, you'd better hurry to the wedding if you don't want to miss the vows!”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Cass wrinkles her nose a little at the trail of wine leading across the bridge, eyes widening as it becomes apparent that there is much more where that came from. As the gates swing shut once again, Cass wonders to herself what the fuck they have just walked into.

The whole kingdom looks to be a mess. There are lanterns flying everywhere, and between them there are doves. Passing through the lower town, it looks like there's been some sort of roof collapse at the old tar works, and the stream of wine gradually becomes a shallow river. Fidella does her best to step around the mess, but it's nearly impossible; even the houses lining the street have been doused. At this rate, the reception will be an extremely sober affair.

Cass picks her way through the winding streets leading up to the palace, passing by a few torn up carts selling imitation merchandise of Rapunzel's wedding attire. She can't help but scoff at the broken shoe cart. As if Raps would wear shoes, even to her own wedding.

The crowd, all dressed in their Sunday bests, look shaken to their cores when she finally reaches the courtyard. The tables that were laid out for the reception are overturned, there is soup everywhere, and no one knows quite what to do with themselves.

She approaches a guard, looking flustered as he tries to set a nearby table upright, and asks, “Uh, what happened here?”

“Some – some horse burst through in a frenzy,” he explains, shaking like a leaf. “It, uh, from a distance it kinda looked like Maximus.”

Cassandra's brow furrows. “Is everything okay?”

“There are no reports of a disturbance in the throne room,” the guard continues. “But as you can see, the decorations have all been tarnished.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Look, I won't keep you, I just need access to the throne room. I have an invitation here, signed by the princess...”

After an excruciating second ID check (she was seriously going to maim Eugene for introducing this ridiculous 'shapeshifter' check) Cass is granted access to the venue, and figuring it's probably best not to draw attention to her tardiness, she slips in through one of the side entrances, with its door propped open to let in some cool air on such a hot day.

Cass hops down from Fidella's back, scratching the side of her head affectionately as Owl swoops down to take her place. He hoots at her curiously.

“Yeah, I don't know what the fuck just went down either,” Cass whispers. “I'm sure we'll find out later. For now, let's just not make a scene?”

Fate has other plans, however. She makes it barely two steps past the doorway before almost being bowled over by a runaway eight-tier wedding cake.

“Woah!” she gasps, stepping out of the way just in time to avoid getting a face full of cake. She reaches around, gripping the sides of the trolley to try and keep it from rolling all the way outside. Fidella steps in to help, blocking the exit with her body, and Cass heaves a sigh of relief as the trolley grinds to a halt, the cake wobbling precariously for several painful seconds before stabilising. Owl hoots in victory and Cass exhales loudly.

“Oh thank god. That could have been a disaster.”

“...Hey, where's the cake?” a voice, unmistakably Eugene's, calls from beyond the edge of the corridor. Cass cringes. So much for quietly watching from the sidelines.

Steeling herself, she slips around the back of the trolley and with some effort, pushes it around the corner and into the throne room. There's an audible ripple of uncertainty through the pews, as the confused guests mutter to one another about why some windswept vagrant is wheeling out a cake that was already in position at the beginning of the ceremony. There's a hoot of laughter (definitely Lance) at Cassandra's dishevelled appearance, a sharp “is that Cassandra?” from three rows away (her dad's voice, for sure), and a few giggles she's guessing are coming from Kiera and Catalina's direction. She can't even bear to look at the king and queen.

Instead, she sees two figures in white. Eugene, looking proud as can be in his very expensive wedding garb that he bragged about to her in several letters... and Rapunzel, face framed by the soft lace veil behind her, looking so beautiful Cass could cry. Her surprise melts into pure glee, and if it weren't for the colossal cake in between, Cass knows Raps would be launching herself at her right then and there, present company be damned.

She passes Max and Pascal and almost chokes. That would explain the sorry state of the tar works' roof, at least. From somewhere behind, she hears Fidella stifle a snort of laughter.

“Well well well,” Eugene says, with a click of the tongue and a lopsided grin. “If it isn't our favourite little gatecrasher.”

It's his teasing, strangely enough, that helps her to find her voice in front of all these people. “Well geez, somebody had to stop this cake from rolling down the hill.”

…

The wedding reception ends up being less of a party and more of a clean-up operation after Max and Pascal's prior mischief, but when the venue has been tidied up and the main courses have been served, Cass slips away right as the king stands up to give a tearful toast. If she times it right she can change into the outfit Rapunzel has had tailored for her and return before the speech is concluded, no problem.

At this point, her room is basically an empty shell with a bed and a wardrobe, so it takes no time to lay out her new outfit ready. Glancing around the empty husk of a room while she starts to undress, Cass wonders when exactly Corona stopped feeling like her home. Maybe about the time she realised it was the people, not the place, that she gravitated back to time and time again?

The new suit doesn't look all too different to Eugene's, minus his father's sash. It's white, with similar detailing, and even some of the same gold accents on the collar. Cass blanches a little the longer she stares at it. God, she's going to look like she's trying to steal his thunder. On his fucking wedding day.

“Why did I let you do this, Raps?” she groans. She can't deny once wearing it, however, that it makes her look really good.

She stares at her reflection in the mirror on her closet door, trying for a smile. This whole situation feels bizarre, and she still can't stop thinking about how stunning Rapunzel looks in her wedding dress.

I wish she was marrying me instead.

The admission, even inside her head, is enough to make her growl in frustration, slap her forehead.

“Enough,” she grits out. “You are going to go out there and be supportive and happy for them because this is their day and you love them so much. Enough throwing yourself a pity party, Cass.”

With nothing else to say to herself, she ties back her hair, shaggier from her foregoing a haircut in quite some time, neatly plaiting it and securing it with a short piece of string from her satchel. Pulling a pair of white gloves on to tie the whole outfit together, she glares at her reflection for a few seconds to compose herself before heading back towards the venue.

“Looking dapper, Cass,” Lance mutters in greeting as she slides up beside him, trying to pretend that she hadn't slipped out in the middle of the king's big speech. He glances over at Eugene, sat beside Rapunzel at the front table reserved for the royals, and then back to her again. “Tell me, which one of you is the groom again?”

“Don't you dare draw anyone's attention to this, Lance. Raps has no idea how petty this makes me look to onlookers.”

He bursts out laughing, which quickly dissolves into a fake cough to deter the few people who turn to stare at him disapprovingly. “Haha, hmm. Uh, you know that was definitely intentional on her part, right? She wants you to feel included.”

“Included? I just feel like I'm third-wheeling a wedding.”

“Isn't that exactly what's happening?”

She groans quietly, before bursting into polite applause as the king embraces Rapunzel tightly and then raises his glass, before taking his seat. Edmund rises, and she can already see Eugene looking nervous at the weird shit he's about to start spouting to the unsuspecting audience.

“I came back here to support them, not to upstage Eugene at the after party.” She chews her lip. “Maybe I should change. D'you think I should change?”

“Look, Cass, Eugene knew about the matching suits ahead of time. If he had a problem with it he would have said something, believe me.” Lance grins and shakes his head. “I was just messing with you before about the third wheel stuff. You're their equal, don't you get that? This might as well be your day too.”

Cass pinches the bridge of her nose. “Don't say this stuff to me, Lance, or I'll seriously start feeling depressed. I need a drink. Is there any booze left, or is it all out on the street?”

“Unless they're planning on breaking out the communion wine, I think we're out of luck.”

“Damn it. Maybe I should just hide in the bathroom for the next six hours.”

As the toasts conclude, Rapunzel and Eugene are called to the dance floor for the first wedding dance. The orchestra rise as Arianna removes the train from Rapunzel's hair, and she and Eugene make their way to the centre of the venue with their hands clasped. Rapunzel's eyes search in the crowd as she walks, finally locking in on Cass as the conductor motions for the band to play.

“I love you,” Rapunzel mouths, and Cass weakly nods before losing Rapunzel's attention to the sweep of the music and the arms of her new husband.

…

“Cass!”

Rapunzel finds her on the steps, having put some distance between her and the rest of the party about an hour ago. After a couple hours of shit-talking bad dancers with Lance from the sidelines, catching up briefly with her father, and downing about a third of the punch bowl in an attempt to avoid conversations with people, Cassandra is all partied out.

Rapunzel's hair is mussed from hours of relentless dancing as she patters down the steps and flops down beside her, uncaring if the dust from foot traffic leaves a mark on the fabric.

“Hey, newlywed. You having a good time?”

“Of course! Oh, Cass, aren't the orchestra just wonderful? They play the classics, for my parents, but the upbeat stuff was a great surprise! When I'm queen, we'll dance like this at every function, mark my words!” The gleam in her eyes only brightens as she adds, “Besides... I keep stopping mid-step and thinking, I'm married now. I get to spend the rest of my life with Eugene. Isn't that just – just wonderful?”

“It is.” Cass offers her the warmest smile she can muster. “I'm so happy for you, Raps, really. You and Fitzherbert are going to have a great life.”

“All three of us are.” Rapunzel scoots closer and rests her head against Cassandra's shoulder. If only time could stop right now, Cass wishes silently, she wouldn't ask for anything ever again. “Cass, you are both my future. It's been so hard to find time to be with you today, and it's driving me crazy! You deserved to be up there with us today, you know?”

“But Corona law doesn't allow it,” Cass says softly, as if saying the words delicately will shelter her heart from fully feeling the weight of them. Rapunzel swallows and nods.

“Mhm. Yeah, it... it doesn't.”

She reaches for Cassandra's hands and squeezes them in her own. Cass can feel Rapunzel's wedding band dig slightly into her index finger, and tears spring to her eyes.

“Well,” she forces herself to say, “it's okay. If you had to marry either one of us, it should be Eugene. He's the more stable presence in your life, after all. He can help you keep this place afloat, while I – while I'm off travelling.”

“Let's not talk about this,” Rapunzel whispers, a pleading tone creeping in. “This... this should be a happy day for us, Cass! The start of something new!”

“You're right. Raps, this is a happy day. And – and I mean it, Rapunzel, I am so happy for you both. My best friends get to be happy together forever. Why wouldn't I be?”

She stands up quickly and holds her hand out, pulling Rapunzel to her feet. Rapunzel stares at her for a heartbeat, face clouded with some emotion too tumultuous to unpack in this moment, before reaching over and wiping a tear away as it spills over from Cass's eyes.

“I know you are.” Her face softens into a smile. “Hey, dance with me? Please?”

“I don't know, Raps...”

“Just one dance?” she asks, biting her lip. “I'm about ready to turn in, but... it wouldn't feel right if I didn't share at least one dance with the woman I love the most.”

“That's sweet of you. How will the man you love the most feel if I take the last dance?” Cass asks, quirking an eyebrow as Rapunzel begins tugging her up the steps by her wrist. “And your father, for that matter?”

“Oh, Eugene won't mind, silly,” Rapunzel laughs airily, marching them both towards the centre of the dance floor as other party-goers begin to stare. “And my father isn't dancing with you, I am.”

There are some whispers as they begin to dance slowly, stepping in time to a waltz; it's more of an open secret than anything, the way Rapunzel and Cassandra are with each other, but it still feels pretty brazen all the same. Cass is a bit rusty on her feet, having gone years since she last danced ballroom-style, but as she stares lovingly at Rapunzel's face, counting the smattering of freckles on her nose and seeing her own flustered face in Rapunzel's eyes, she realises it doesn't really matter. The steps are bullshit; everything is, except the hand clasped in hers and the other curled around the back of her neck.

Out of the corner of her eye Cass spies Lance, grin a mile wide, offering his hand out to Eugene. They start their own dance, a little clumsier, a little more comical than their own. Rapunzel giggles as they waltz past, Lance almost knocking into them as they spin.

“See? Eugene and Lance can make their own fun.”

Cass smiles back, exhaling slowly. There are still a few people watching with rapt interest: Queen Arianna, looking misty-eyed; Cassandra's father, fidgeting a little, his anxieties no doubt feeding off of the nervousness in Cass's own body language; a little girl she doesn't even know, clad in a waistcoat and pants, looking like she's seeing someone who mirrors herself for the first time. But as interest in their dance begins to wane, so do her fears.

“Dancing still isn't really my thing,” she confesses, as they begin to slow down. “It feels... awkward.”

“Oh.” Rapunzel pouts. “But, you know, gotta try everything once?”

“Of course. I can stand it if I'm with you.” She leans in to press a kiss to Rapunzel's forehead, but thinks better of it, leaning back again. “I, uh... yeah, it might be time for me to turn in, Raps.”

Rapunzel's smile fades a little in disappointment, but she nods. “Yeah. It's about time for us to leave too, so...”

“You're leaving tonight?”

“Yeah. No time like the present, right?” Rapunzel winds her arm around Cassandra's, clinging on as she calls over the din of the music. “Eugene! Are you ready?”

“Sunshine, I'll be right with you,” he calls back, in the midst of being dipped by Lance. Once he's back on his feet and says his goodbyes in a bone-crushing hug, he joins the two of them as they make their way to the edge of the dance floor.

“Is... is it okay for us to just leave like this?” Cass asks suspiciously. “You two don't need to make some kind of big announcement, or anything?”

“...Nah,” Eugene says after a long pause, exchanging a look with Rapunzel. “We can let the king and queen deal with that, right? Besides, the ship won't wait forever.”

Before Cass can protest further, Eugene slides up to the other side of her and links his arm in hers, and the two effectively march her down the steps and towards the docks.

“This is lovely and all, but I can't help the feeling that you two are kidnapping me,” she points out, as the three of them march on in silence.

“What! No! We – we just think you should see the boat! It's really gorgeous, and there's apparently an ice sculpture on board,” Rapunzel gabbles, starting to wax poetic in her ear as Eugene stands on the other side of her, equally enthusiastic.

“And get this – they didn't screw up my nose this time!! That's a huge deal, you absolutely cannot miss it-”

This weird pimping of the boat continues as they follow the path down to the harbour, greeting a few puzzled guards on the way as they tag along for protection. Cass can't shake the feeling that something extremely weird is going on. Eugene and Rapunzel have been shooting her odd looks all day, and she thought it was because her complicated feelings were obvious to everyone around her, but as they get closer and the ship comes into view, it definitely feels like there's a bigger story than that.

The boat is beautiful – the wood is dyed a deep cherry red, and the sails are the same rich purple as the Coronan flag, complete with the golden sun crest. On board, true to their words, is an ice sculpture, but as she strains her eyes, the sculpture depicting the happy couple looks suspiciously like a happy throuple, instead.

“Raps... Eugene... what exactly is going on here?”

“Oh, you'll see,” Eugene says under his breath, while Rapunzel giggles gleefully and gives no further answer.

Trunks of their belongings are already being loaded onto the ship when they arrive, and Cass notices a familiar satchel and carry on pack nestled beside one of Rapunzel's cases.

“Are – are those my things? Guys, what is going on?”

Finally, the two of them release her arms and she takes a step back, eyes darting all over as she tries to comprehend what the fuck is happening right now.

“Cassandra,” Rapunzel begins, clasping her hands together joyfully, “we're boarding the ship for our honeymoon, and... we were hoping you would like to come with us.”

She stares. “...But why?”

“Why?” Eugene scoffs. “Why indeed, Cass, let me think. You're our best friend, you're in a relationship with my wife – something as intimate as a honeymoon doesn't just happen with two out of three when it comes to us, you understand?”

“But – but this wedding isn't for us, it's for you,” splutters Cass, still wondering if she knocked her head at some point and woke up in a parallel universe, where things like a honeymoon for three were commonplace. He rolls his eyes, hard.

“Cass, look at us. We're wearing the same freaking suit. You do the math.”

“And we had our own wedding dance,” Rapunzel chimes in. “Even if you didn't really like it.”

“All right, just... stop, okay? Give me a minute to think.” Cass is starting to feel dizzy. “I – I know you both love me – in different ways,” she adds sharply, as Eugene opens his mouth. “But this is... pretty crazy. Even for us. I mean, people will talk about this, guys.”

Rapunzel and Eugene exchange amused glances. “Cass, everyone who knows us knows, and everyone who doesn't have a pretty good guess about what goes on between us three,” Rapunzel says slowly. “You don't have to worry about that anymore, do you understand?”

“It's different now!” Cassandra protests, shaking her head in pure, unfiltered amazement. “You two are married now and it's – adulterous. Probably. Maybe even treasonous? God, my head hurts.”

“So it's not a cut and dry situation, that's fine!” Eugene throws up his hands in exasperation. “But damn it, Cass, you're acting like this is the end of days. If you stuck around more than a few days at a time, you'd realise that the people of Corona really don't care as much as you think they do.”

Cass opens and closes her mouth a few times, unsure of where to even start with protesting everything they've been saying to her. She loses the train of thought anyway once she lays eyes on Rapunzel, with a desperate look in her eyes as she watches Cass, fidgeting with her hands.

“Cass,” she says quietly, taking a tentative step forward, “we can't force you to come with us, but we would really like you to. So we can right this – this rigid law that stops us all from being happy.”

“...Okay, now you've definitely lost me.”

Rapunzel makes a frustrated noise in her throat, running her fingers back through her hair and resting both hands on the back of her neck, like she so often does when she's trying to think.

“Cassandra – once we are outside of Coronan waters, the laws don't apply anymore.”

“...And?”

Eugene half-laughs, half-coughs, and Rapunzel shoots him a pointed look before continuing more gently, “And, when we're out at sea, certain... marriage laws... don't apply either.”

She bites her lip, hoping this will be enough to get the gears turning in Cassandra's head, but she stares on blankly.

“Oh, for christ's sake!” Eugene slaps his forehead and pulls Cass along to stand beside Rapunzel, staring them both down with folded arms. “Cass, I don't know how many times we have to spell it out for you, but this has always been your wedding day too. If you want it to be, anyway.”

The words finally seem to hit home, and she stares between them with eyes as wide as a deer being stalked.

“What?” she squeaks.

“Cassandra, I have wanted to marry the both of you for as long as this has even been a conversation,” Rapunzel explains, and her voice shakes a little with her next words. “Of course this is crazy, everything we do together is crazy! And, Cass? If you don't want to get on the boat and do this... I'll accept that. But – but I hope, after all that we've been through together, that you want to be my wife as much as I want to be yours.”

Time moves slowly as the weight of these words sink in, and Cass glances between Eugene, who is beginning to look emotional just in the presence of this proposal, and Rapunzel, laying her heart on the line just to show Cass how much she matters.

“You'd really do that? For me?”

“With you,” Rapunzel corrects, mouth splitting into a grin as her eyes gloss over with tears. “Cass, I would sail to the ends of the Earth if it meant I could marry you when we get there.”

“Oh god,” Eugene says in a hushed voice. He turns away, hand over his eyes. “You're both killing me here.”

“Can it, Fitzherbert,” Cass says on instinct, before a laugh bubbles up from her throat. “Raps, I – what do I even say to that?!”

“Say yes already, oh my god!”

“Eugene!” Rapunzel shakes her head, giggling helplessly. “Sorry, proposals get to him.”

Cass gives a watery laugh. “I'll bet. What's he going to do when we actually get married, huh?”

Rapunzel blinks a few times, then gasps in delight. “So it's a yes?!”

All Cass can do is nod before Rapunzel throws herself at her, hugging her tight enough to choke. Even with all the oxygen being squeezed from her lungs, Cass feels like she can breathe for the first time all day.

There's the sound of a throat being cleared behind them, and they turn to see a guard looking a little awkward to interrupt.

“Excuse me. Um... the smaller bags, should we load them on the ship, or...?”

“Yes, you should,” Cass says, barely able to contain her cheer. “Wherever these two go, I'm going with them.”

The guard shrugs, quickly turning back to the remaining luggage, and Cass cups Rapunzel's jaw, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before hiding her face in the top of Rapunzel's hair.

“Aww, don't be shy! I loved that!” Rapunzel giggles, pulling her in closer. “I loved that so much. Wherever we go, you're coming too. Yep... that's going in my journal for sure.”

“No,” groans Cass, still giggling despite herself. “Please, no record of anything sappy I say ever again.”

“Too late. See, you should know by now, Cass. Everything mushy we ever say will be immortalised in our wife's notebooks for the rest of our lives,” Eugene sighs, slinging an arm around her. Cass nods, keeping close as they steer her towards the boarding plank.

Our wife. It feels too fucking good to be real.

“This isn't a dream, right?” she asks suddenly, as they're halfway up the plank. “This is really happening?”

“Of course it's real, art can't imitate life!” scoffs Eugene, looking a little offended. “This face can't simply be replicated in dreams, Cassandra.”

“No one is saying anything about your face, Eugene,” Rapunzel sighs, shaking her head fondly.

“You know what, Fitzherbert? You've got a point. If this were a dream your nose would be a totally different shape, for a start.”

“I don't get it! How hard can it be to draw somebody's nose in accurate proportion to their face?!”

As they take their first steps onto the boat and the plank is removed, they turn to see a few familiar faces have gathered. The parents have come to wave their children off, in a quiet moment of finality before the next chapter begins. Arianna waves to them, her aura simply overflowing with joy, Frederic watches on with a stiffer wave, clearly still coming to grips with what's about to happen once the boat leaves Corona. Edmund, stood off to the side, is loudly asking Hamuel why their good friend is tagging along for the journey.

A little further back, Cassandra's father watches on. Upon first glance, she freezes; Rapunzel's arm is still holding her in close, and she nods towards him, trying for a smile. He nods back, slowly at first, before raising his arms to wave.

He is called over by Arianna and sheepishly joins her, his eyes never fully leaving Cass as he does so. Overwhelmed, she glances down at Rapunzel, who is leaning with her head against her shoulder, still beaming and waving at her parents.

“My father knew about this, then?” she asks quietly. Rapunzel shrugs, a shy smile on her face.

“I know we don't need it, but I wanted his blessing. I wanted him to know that you're loved, and you're gonna live a long life and be okay.”

The regal trill of trumpets fill the air, as the small cluster of guards on the dock stand to attention. A few words are read from a prepared scroll, carried away by the ocean breeze before Cass can hear, and then suddenly they're moving. The faces of their parents are growing smaller, the stretch of ocean growing larger, and Cass exhales shakily before turning to Rapunzel and Eugene.

“I think I'm going to puke,” she confesses.

“What?!” squeaks Rapunzel, alarmed.

“Well, now would be a terrible time to tell us you get seasick,” Eugene jokes, clapping her on the back. “Seriously though. You okay?”

“I'm fine. I just... realised how much of what was said happened in front of all those strangers. And then our parents. God, I'm gonna jump.”

“Yeah, no jumping,” Eugene says firmly, tugging her away from the boat's edge by her shoulders. “How long until we're out of Coronan waters.”

“Less than an hour.” The tremors are back in Rapunzel's voice again.

“And there are... aha! Three hours until the clock strikes midnight. You're in luck, ladies. If we play our cards right, this day will go down in history as both our anniversaries. How's that sound, huh?”

“Sounds like everything I've dreamed of,” Rapunzel sighs, melting against Cass. “Doesn't it feel good just to be here and not having to hide it?”

“I mean, we're embarking with a very small crew for a private ceremony outside of Coronan waters,” Cass points out. “Feels pretty hidden to me.”

Rapunzel pouts. “Ah, you're right.”

“You know... I think it's better this way. I wouldn't want it to be some public affair anyway,” Cass says quickly. “But yeah, this still feels like I'm in some sort of fever dream.”

“Want me to pinch you to be sure?”

“If you pinch me I will kill you. And hey, what was all this about a shapeshifter check at the gates, huh, Fitzherbert? I missed your wedding vows just so you could mess with me?!”

“Oh, that. I thought it would be funny!”

The ship sails off, disappearing into the evening sky, and even as she's bickering with Eugene and being held back by an exasperated Rapunzel, Cass can't help believing that this might be the start of her own happily ever after, after all.

[genderfluidtechnoblade]

okay so i get the Concept of vh(also it's such a pretty mod holy shit sometimes i watch just for visuals) but i just have a hard time following along in the moment. like pete will open a crate or get an item and either be disappointed or excited and i have no idea why. i havent grasped the specifics of whats good/bad yknow? i feel like a mobile user while chat is spamming widepepOMEGAKEKHappyChampHands- i get what its supposed to be but i dont See it

AAAH yea thats the part that looses people the most is the specifics of those rare items. i cant go through all of them but i could give a quick run down of any of the more important ones

-during the most recent event, every boss crate had a gear (like a cog) (everyone called them cogs) that were important to the event. those were good, and now they are gone.

-if there is ever a brown square with a question mark, THATS AN ARTIFACT!! THOSE ARE GOOD !! we need 25 unique ones from each player in order to win.

-skill orbs and star cores are very rare, and very good- they are the equivalent of 20 rare vault gems and 9 even rarer gems called vault diamonds that you can't even mine (they rarely drop from a certain mob that's only inside the vault), so getting them for free is good

-large amounts of vault bronze/silver/gold can be used to buy things from vending machines that viewers can give, and those vending machines can have rare items. any amount is good, but if a player doesn't get a good amount of it, it's disappointing

-same deal with skill essence/star essence- you can save up to get a skill point/knowledge point, so any amount is good, but low rolling it is disappointing.

-vault gear is usually good- almost all vault gear is better than diamond armor, and most of it is better than netherite, HOWEVER vault gear has tiers (actually, most things in vault hunters has tiers, according to the way iskall likes to rank things). vault gear goes in scrappy, common, rare, epic, and omega. omega is the best of the best. if you get common+ vault gear, it can only be common rare epic or omega, which is good! if its epic+ thats even better! if its just scrappy+ or even just scrappy, that means there's a really big chance you won't get something that's better than your current gear (since most active players are rocking mostly epic+ gear) so its kinda meh

-levels for the gear are also very important! sometimes you'll get an omega armor which is theoretically the best you can get, but it low rolled on levels/stats, and a lower tier piece of armor can be better. omega just means a better chance of being better, like a sliding scale. so its possible to get something thats theoretically good but still disappointing to the spoiled streamer who has too many omegas that he doesnt know what to do with all of them rolling eyes emote

-idols are also like gear, they can have the same tiers, and getting one is good, but if it doesn't roll anything interesting, its disappointing.

-gems are also sometimes in boss crates- echo is the rarest gem of them all, and pete actually gets more of it than everyone else because of his role in the game. seeing echo is very exciting, because he can trade it with others for things he needs. other player gems are also very important, esp for the players who dont log on as much (players get more of their own gem and all players are meant to trade with each other). other gems are rare and MOST hunters would be excited to see one in a crate/chest, but pete has... uh. a lot of them. so its underwhelming to find a single one.

-everyone loves CATALYSTS. they're rainbow swirly things. fragments are smaller and full catalysts take up the whole item frame box. these catalysts can modify the vault to have very rare things in higher quantities. everyone likes to use them to create super powerful vaults with like, 20x the amount of ores you normally get, or a large amount of chests with good loot.

-a lot of boss crates are also just filler material that can come in handy later, like diamond ore and cake. these things are important but if its mostly that with no Big Shiny Thing streamer is gonna be sadge

the specifics are definitely the hardest thing to explain because of how many specifics there are, and how far everyone is into the season, but tbh i still very recommend vh because if you keep it on and just passively watch for long enough, eventually some of it will rub off and you'll recognize what thing gets used for what and if that thing is good. eventually.

[simul16]

Low Effort in Their Own Way

All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." - Leo Tolstoy, "Anna Karenina"

I've been watching a fair amount of D&D content on YouTube of late, for varying reasons, and if I may paraphrase Tolstoy's famous quote above, I've learned that all good D&D channels make high-effort content, while each bad D&D channel makes low-effort content in its own way.

Low-effort content tends to be:

Content that is or can be created quickly; it doesn't require a lot of prep time (and the presentation usually allows this limited prep time to show)

Content that copies current trends; while a certain amount of response to significant events in the gaming world is to be expected, low-effort channels regularly feature content that basically boils down to 'here's my reaction to whatever rumor or scandal is currently being talked about among the community'

Content that does not spark or contribute to a discussion; when such channels go beyond simply recapitulating a recent event, they frequently spend very little time explaining their own reaction and seldom spend any time at all explaining or exploring contrary opinions except to make jokes or elicit emotional reactions from an over-simplified or straw-man version of the contrary opinion

Now let's start off by saying that I'm not knocking low-effort content per se; anybody who knows anything about online marketing can tell you that low-effort content has a role to play in any marketing strategy. Ideally, though, your low-effort content, the stuff that you can get out the door quickly and easily and get in front of your potential customers, exists to guide those customers to your higher-quality content that convinces them to buy your product, order your service, or otherwise become someone who believes that you have something of value to say. Because it's cheap and easy to produce, low-effort content can be cast far and wide to serve as a net to capture many potential viewers and guide them to the gold mine of the really important stuff you have to say. Unfortunately, when your low-effort content is what you have to say, it very much begs the question of what exactly it is people should be coming to your channel for.

Here are a few but by no means an exhaustive list of the YouTube channels that to me seem to feature way too much low-effort content.

The Dungeon Dudes

The Dungeon Dudes are two guys (Kelly McLaughlin and Monty Martin) who mainly do scripted back-and-forth style discussions of D&D-related topics. I've talked about the Dungeon Dudes before, when taking apart one of their recent videos, but they also stream a D&D game they play in on Twitch (and frequently post recordings of those sessions on their channel), do product reviews, and generally do whatever they can to maintain a consistent pace of content output, generally a minimum of twice weekly. They've been around for nearly four years now, and have amassed about 273 thousand subscribers on their channel, with over 44 million views for their content, which seem like decent numbers for a niche content channel. (Contract with CinemaSins, which exists as a viral content manufacturer, and has amassed over 9 million subscribers and over 3.3 billion views. I'm not trying to say the Dungeon Dudes are the CinemaSins of D&D; if they were, their numbers would probably look a lot more like those of CinemaSins.)

The big problem with the Dudes as content creators is that, despite being a niche content channel, they are clearly in it to try to eke out some kind of income or living from the work they put into the channel: they've got a Patreon, they use affiliate links in the descriptions of their product review videos to gain some additional referrer income, and they do sponsored content when they can get a sponsor. They started back in the summer of 2017 with a very 2016-era plan on how to succeed at YouTube: put together a bunch of short (5-10 minutes, occasionally longer, but go over 15 minutes at your peril) videos and release them on an iron-clad schedule to get people used to coming back to your channel and looking over your new content, and to their credit, they've kept up their content production schedule very consistently over the past four years.

They've also learned a few things during that time and have adapted the channel in response: their videos explaining rules and reviewing new products tend to be more popular, so they work those topics in on a more regular basis. They've learned that the YouTube algorithm has subtly changed over the past few years to reward channels that can provide longer 'engagement' (which gives YouTube more opportunities to run ads), and have expanded their video length to an average of about a half-hour, with their re-broadcasts from Twitch being extra-long videos (between two and two-and-a-half hours) which, while drawing fewer total views, probably draw as much or more 'engagement' from the algorithm for the views they have.

But the need to spit out so much content on such a rigid, unforgiving schedule means that they have to aim for quick-creation and easy digestion: putting subclasses into a bog-standard tier ranking, making 'top five' and 'top ten' lists that seem like they're being cribbed from a more thoughtful resource, and generally getting stuff out the door (like their 'Powerful Spell Combos Using Teamwork' video) without spending too much time thinking about how valuable or even accurate their advice happens to be. More to the point, it seems to be taking its toll on the guys who serve as the hosts of the show: Kelly McLaughlin has a fairly dour expression in general, but lately he seems to have the countenance of a man who's about to post a 'very special episode' discussing the dangers of YouTuber burnout.

The Dungeon Dudes feature low-effort content because they have to in order to support the publishing frequency they've chosen; if they were to take the time to put together a truly high-effort piece regarding one of their traditional topics, their Patreon subscribers would likely be asking why their release schedule had slowed down before their work was even half-done.

Dungeon Craft

The Dungeon Craft channel is run by a fellow who refers to himself as 'Professor Dungeon Master'; I have not yet found any reference in his channel or elsewhere that identifies who he actually is, so I'll just refer to him as Prof. Prof has been on YouTube a bit longer than the Dungeon Dudes, having launched his channel in October of 2016, and has put out 185 'episodes' (as of the time of this writing), thus averaging between three and four episodes per month. Prof's own 'trailer' video explicitly states his channel's concept: "Some channels focus on running the game, others on building terrain, others on painting minis. I do it all!" You might think, then, that this would be a place to find quite high-quality content, especially related to terrain and miniatures painting tips, but it seems like the main effect of Prof making his channel be about multiple topics (and there are plenty of topics he discusses that don't fit into any of those three categories above) is that he can't successfully communicate what his channel is actually about, other than about his specific opinions. Maybe that's the reason he's sitting at about 65 thousand subscribers and just under 5 million views.

However, being at a slightly lower 'tier' of content production than the Dungeon Dudes is not itself any kind of crime or even indicative of poor quality -- after all, one of my favorite D&D lore channels on YouTube is RavenloftTravelAgent, and she's got just over a thousand subscribers and only about 50 thousand views on her videos. No, Prof could have a very high-quality, high-content channel with the subscriber numbers and views he has, but he doesn't.

Prof's issue is almost exactly the opposite of that of the Dungeon Dudes: instead of cranking out a rapid-fire, breakneck volume of content to keep up with an arbitrary content production schedule because that's how you make a living producing content for YouTube and you have to keep feeding the hungry algorithm, Prof cranks out content that's very easy for him to write because he's been involved in the game for a long time and already knows that the way he learned to play the game is the best way. Any topic that comes up related to D&D, he's got an opinion and can spit out a script explaining his opinion quickly because it's the same opinion he's held for decades. Classic D&D didn't have skills, so the next edition of D&D shouldn't have them either. Classic D&D had slow advancement, so slow advancement is better than fast advancement. This becomes even more obvious in the videos that have very little or nothing to do with running a D&D game, such as where Prof explains why he thought Avengers: Endgame sucked, or why he thought Season 8 of Game of Thrones was 'nearly perfect'.

Some of the oddest episodes of Dungeon Craft have to do when Prof makes admissions that make him out to be, well, the D&D channel for 'that kind' of old-school gamer: the ones who can make comments to each other that they can't make in front of their wives or significant others because the latter find the comments sexist, the kind of guys you can complain to about not being able to tell a Polack joke at work, the guys who treated D&D in the 1980s and 1990s the way that guys in the 1950s and 1960s treated golf where they could build a wall between the world as it existed and the world as they wanted to believe it was (and, if we're being honest, the way that they believed it should actually be). Nowhere is this more evident than in the video where Prof starts by discussing the hot, rich girlfriend he had once who tried but never got into D&D who he just had to break up with, and which by the 3 minute mark has him "calling bullshit" on the idea that relationships are built on compromise and negotiation. (I mean, you saw this coming, right? Right there at the end of the last paragraph about how the ending of Game of Thrones was so good? You knew that's where this was going, right?)

And, of course, he's not immune to just jumping on the latest bandwagon to contribute his drone to the chorus of voices talking about things just to be talking about things. It shouldn't be surprising that Prof jumped on the bandwagon of the lawsuit brought by Hickman and Weis against Wizards of the Coast over the upcoming Dragonlance trilogy, which turned out to be a nothing-burger. Even weirder is the tag in the description of that video which says "Analysis you can't get anywhere else", even though the video doesn't contain anything that hadn't already been discussed over the three weeks between the lawsuit and Prof's video other than Prof's own opinions about it. My favorite howler that Prof makes in this video is his assertion that, because Hickman and Weis got a lawyer to file a lawsuit, that means there's definitely fire under that smoke, because "big law firms do not accept cases they don't think they can win", which both ignores the existence of SLAPP suits as well as the existence of authors who seem to take perverse glee in suing rival authors just to drive them out of the industry. He's also responded with multiple videos in response to Cody at Taking20s controversial 'illusion of choice' essay, and his response to Ginny Di's essay on making online D&D suck less didn't include any of Ginny's solid advice on making online play more compatible with an in-person mentality (recognizing interruptive behavior, or using text chat to maintain side-conversations that would otherwise not be distracting in person), but instead gave these recommendations to players:

Keep your camera turned on

Mute yourself when not talking

Don't distract yourself with technology during the game

Nothing specific on recognizing how online play differs from tabletop play and suggesting ways to bring those two styles closer together, just commands because he's the DM and he says so. Or, in other words, low-effort, opinion-based content.

Nerd Immersion

Nerd Immersion, a channel by Ted that started in May of 2014 and has amassed over 70 thousand subscribers, starts his "channel trailer" video by leafing through a book, then looking up and saying, "Oh, hello" as if he'd just noticed that there was a camera on pointing at him while he's sitting in his orange-trimmed gaming chair. That, sadly, is roughly the level of thought that goes into the actual content contained on this long-tenured but seemingly still super-niche channel.

The weird thing is that at some point, it was obvious that Ted put some real effort into this channel. There are defined sections of the channel that focus on particular things, avoiding the Dungeon Craft problem of 'what topic is our channel about this week?' On Tuesdays, Ted posts a top-10 list. Ted comes up with an idea for a series, like 'Fixing 5E' or 'Reviewing Unearthed Arcana', posts regular articles until he's said what he means to say, then ends the series. (There hasn't been a new Fixing 5E video in roughly a year, meaning that Ted isn't wasting his own time and that of the viewer continually beating horses he's long since killed.) And he comes up with some great ideas for series, such as his series reviewing products on the DMs Guild; that particular series comes out somewhat irregluarly, but not so irregularly that you think he may have stopped doing the series without telling you.

Nerd Immersion's big problem can be summed up by simply looking at the list of videos on his channel and noticing that when he puts his own face on the thumbnail of the video, the startling frequency with which he's shrugging or has a puzzled face or just seems to be presenting himself as if he's not sure what's happening in his own video. I mean, I get it -- that's his image, the personality he wants to present to his audience. He doesn't have all the answers (a refreshing change from Dungeon Craft, honestly), but has some things to share if you're interested, so go ahead and take a peek. But then you take a look at those different sections we spoke about earlier and see that the 'Fixing' series all have the word Fixing at the top of the screen, the Nerd Immersion logo in the top left, two images underneath the text, one on the right side of the page and one on the left, separated right down the middle, and they all have Fix-It Felix on the far right. The Top 10 videos always have Top 10 at the top of the thumbnail. The Unearthed Arcana reviews all have 'Unearthed Arcana' at the top, then 'Review' in an odd off-set to the right beneath 'Unearthed Arcana'.

In other words, Ted has a formula, and he's damn well going to follow it.

Now it's not a bad thing to have a workflow -- if you're going to be cranking out videos at the volume that Ted does (not to mention the others on this list), you'd better have some kind of process for making the video, getting the thumbnail on it, etc.; otherwise each new video is a horrible nightmare of effort as you re-invent the wheel for every project. Nobody wants to do that, and the results would likely be unwatchable. Having a process is a good thing. But the Dungeon Dudes clearly also have a process -- they've put out at least two videos a week for three and a half years, so they damn well have a process or they wouldn't have been able to get out that much content. Looking at their channel, though, shows you that while they have a brand, and one that's evolving over time to boot, they're not just making the same video over and over again, or at least you wouldn't think that from looking at the thumbnails.

Ted's most interesting videos are where he's interviewing another person or even just having another person in the video, because having another person around clearly takes him at least a bit outside his rigid formulaic comfort zone. The problem is that those videos are few and far between -- the review of the infernal tiefling is about eight months separated from his interview with Celeste Conowitch about her Venture Maidens campaign guide. Also interesting are his unboxing videos, because Ted clearly likes minis and takes some degree of joy in cracking open and looking at new minis. His unboxing videos aren't as irregular as his interview videos, but they are fairly recent, with the first appearing just a few months ago, so it's still not clear if this is going to be a new regular part of the channel, or just another series that goes until he says what he wants to say about minis and then stops.

Most of the stuff on the site, though, is just, well, stuff, cranked out on a formula and thrown out into the digital void with the same soft-spoken volume regardless of whether it's major news or a press release. As an example, while pretty much everybody had an opinion on the Dragonlance lawsuit, Ted covered when the suit was announced, when it was dismissed by Weis and Hickman, when the actual trilogy that was the subject of the novels was announced, and the official release date of the first book in the new trilogy. When it came time to get ready to announce the newest campaign book, Ted was on the job, posting a video preparing for the announcement, another video later the same day when his original prediction of a Feywild adventure book seemed to be contradicted by other rumors that the book would be a Ravenloft book, then posted yet another video when the actual book was leaked on Amazon at 11:24pm later that same day confirming Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft, posted the video discussing the official announcement of Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft the next day, and then the day after that followed up with more details on Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft revealed in Dragon+. That's five videos in three days, for a grand total of just over 100 thousand views combined. The intention seems like Ted wants to be the CNN of the D&D news scene, but with those kind of distribution numbers, the result is more like your local home town's shopping circular that occasionally also features stories about the latest project to fix the potholes on Main Street. Just like nobody's doing 24/7 news coverage of your local town council, nobody is (or probably should strive to) doing 24/7 coverage of the gaming industry and Wizards of the Coast. At some point it just becomes running a script, pressing a button to upload the next video, because it's news, and while you don't have to think about news to quite the same degree you have to think about more opinion-based topics, once you stop thinking about the process and what it is you're making, all you have left is executing the formula, over and over again, and both the input and the output becomes repetitive.

Repetitive videos, in repetitive formats, with repetitive text, to keep the monster fed for another day. I can admire the effort that goes into it, but the overwhelming presence of the formula involved in cranking out this content keeps me from feeling that it's worth engaging with. It's low-effort, because the effort has been meticulously removed from the process.

I could go on, but I think I'll stop here. There's not really any constructive criticism I could provide to these channels because, as I hope I've pointed out, it seems like low-effort content is pretty much the only thing these channels have to offer or in truth can offer, and anything that might cause their owners to re-consider their channels to improve their content would almost certainly lead to a very different if not wholly different channel. With things being as they are online, there's no guarantee that any new, higher-effort channel would be any more successful than the old low-effort one (remember the RavenloftTravelAgent channel with absolutely miniscule numbers; effort doesn't automatically equate with success). I can't even claim that being low-effort channels necessarily makes these channels bad (despite what I said in the intro); after all, they all have at least some good ideas, especially Nerd Immersion, and they each have subscribers and a following. I guess this is just my way of putting some small amount of effort into explaining why I don't feel like doing more to help these channels succeed, because I'd rather put my support toward channels making higher-quality, higher-effort content, especially because its not the content itself, but people engaging with that content that really drives a channel's success.

[monstersandmaw]

Female orc (Rakasha) x male character  (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Yes, her name is Rakasha, not rakshasa. Sorry if that’s confusing for those like me with some form of dyslexia! Why do I do this to myself. Anyway, folks, this is a story reward for one of my higher tiers, featuring a snarky orc, a Tired(tm) healer, and a pair of cursed rings...

I really hope you enjoy it!! Don't forget to let me know if you did by reblogging it! It means the world, but if you're shy, a click on the heart button is also great :)

Content: past family deaths, nsfw, and fluff. :) Word count: 9206

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Virion stepped through the bazaar, trying not to gaze around him and gawk at everything as if he’d never been in a town before. That was a sure-fire way to stand out and attract a cut-purse, or perhaps worse. Trinkets here and there caught his eye, but he never lingered long, slouching along with his hands in his pockets.

Taller than many of the humans, he nearly tripped over a tiny fae creature as they scuttled along after a what he had thought was a puppy at first, but when he saw it had six legs, and scales mixed in with the fur, he blinked, shook his head a little, and moved on. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, and just let the current of people pull him along through the bustling, tightly-packed stalls until he came to a tiny, extremely narrow shop crammed into the space between two larger facades, almost as though it had been deliberately stuffed into the gap between two buildings. On closer inspection of the roof line, he saw that that was exactly what had happened.

Equal parts amused and intrigued at the odd little place, he pushed the door open, his palm pressed flat to the cool, warped glass panels, and stepped into the fusty old shop. A smell of damp paper and slightly mildewed leather filled the air, and despite the apparent narrowness of the space from the outside, a huge amount of ‘stuff’ was crammed into the shop. Cabinets of curiosities lined the right hand wall, while various trinkets and pieces of mismatching armour were aligned along the left. A helmet with a completely bashed in faceplate stood proudly on a small wooden pedestal on the table, and around it were an arrangement of bronze arrowheads etched with runes. Down the centre of the room were piled trunks and boxes and crates, right up to the spider-webbed rafters.

It was only as a shadow moved further down the shop that he realised he was not the only customer.

A tall, well-built, female orc wearing a studded, leather travelling jerkin moved idly to examine some daggers arranged in a stand, and Virion found himself drawn down the narrow corridor of space between the wooden crates and the left hand wall. He’d always found orcs a strange people, and one he knew very little about despite having travelled a fair bit. She had a lethal looking re-curve bow strapped to her back, and a number of other weapons glinted and caught his eye the longer he looked.

From behind a nearby box, a tiny, stoop-spined old man suddenly and rather gleefully croaked, “Visitors!” and both the orc and Virion startled, whipping round to face the source of the exclamation.

The orc growled softly to herself, fingers gripped around a knife at her hip and muttering under her breath in a language Virion didn’t recognise, but he knew softly-hissed curses when he heard them.

“Peace, peace,” the ancient little man laughed - a sound like a piece of dry, crumpled parchment. He poked his half-moon glasses back up his bulbous nose with an arthritic finger and grinned toothlessly up at the orc. “Ah,” he said. “I see you have found my collection of daggers. I would direct your attention to this one, with the hilt made of-.”

“I’m not interested in those,” she said, bluntly cutting him off. “I need some more arrowheads. You got any?”

“Hmm,” the shopkeeper said, bobbing his head repeatedly like a child’s toy and seemingly unperturbed by her rudeness. “Yes, yes. Finest goblin forged steel? Or perhaps you’re looking for something a little closer to home? We have orcish wares too…”

“I don’t care. It just needs to be about this big -” she held up her finger and thumb and Virion glimpsed scars and some dotted tattoos across her knuckles before she lowered her hand and shot him a nasty look. “And I need them sharp. I can’t be bothered pissing about sharpening them. I’ll take about twenty.”

“I’ve only got ten goblin forged -”

“Whatever. I’ll take what you have then.”

Virion’s brows knitted but he decided to keep back and mind his own business. Traditionally, as far as he knew anyway, orcs were quick to anger, and not the kind of creature you wanted to piss off.

Turning his attention back to the plethora of things arrayed along the wall, he found his eyes resting on a pair of rings in a simple wooden box. He’d always been curious as a child, and suddenly a very child-like urge to pick one up and try it on overwhelmed him. Unable to stop himself - after all, what was the harm in trying on a simple band of tarnished silver? - he reached for it and slid it onto his right index finger.

Holding it up in the dim light, he saw that it wasn’t a plain ring after all. Engraved into the band was the design of two dragons, their snouts almost touching, their wings outstretched along the middle of the band, while along the upper and lower extremities seemed to be some kind of text, ancient and unreadable to him at least. It caught the light in a pleasant way and he smiled, considering asking the shopkeeper how much he wanted for it.

The wizened old man, however, had disappeared to fetch the small batch of arrowheads, the orc wandered over and picked up the other one, turning it over in her jade green fingers. Her expression softened somehow, the tension melting from her brows, and she reminded Virion of his late sister trying on their mother’s jewellery. Not that she’d had much, but Clara had always held it with a wondrous kind of reverence. It brought a smile to Virion’s face to see the tough woman enjoy something so frivolous and harmless as trying on a ring.

The shopkeeper returned and handed her the arrowheads, and when he saw what she was doing, his blue eyes lit up with joy and he clapped his hands together.

The orc didn’t seem put off by his odd reaction, but then she actually slid it onto her finger and everything happened at once.

A light flashed between Virion and the orc, bleaching his vision blank, and a burst of energy exploded from its epicentre. Objects went flying from the shelves and rained down onto the flagstone floor around them. Virion was knocked back, landing heavily on his backside, while the orc reeled and staggered into what sounded like a tower of wooden crates.

Virion rubbed at his eyes, blinking furiously, and gradually his sight began to return to him. From the way the orc was mashing the heel of her palm into her own eye sockets, he assumed things were going as slowly for her as they were for him.

“What the fuck?” she rasped a moment later. “I… I can’t…”

Still blinking, his ears ringing a bit from the release of whatever force had been cooped up in the two rings, he tottered to his feet and looked down at his hand. The band, which had been darkened with age was now bright as a newly struck coin, but what sent a jolt of real, ice-cold terror through him, was the fact that it wouldn’t come off. It wouldn’t even budge. Somehow, a ring that had been a little bit too big for his finger when he’d first slipped it on, was now nestled snugly around it, and was refusing to come off.

The orc, he saw when he glanced over at where she still sat on the floor, was in the same situation.

“Where’s that little fucker?” she snarled, pushing herself up with the lithe speed of a panther and looking around for the shopkeeper. “He’d better not have been a fucking fae… I’ll rip his head off his scrawny neck if he can’t fix this…”

“Easy,” Virion murmured levering himself more carefully to his feet. “There has to be an explanation. He must be here somewhere. Perhaps he was knocked over by the explosion as well?”

The orc fixed him with such a derisive look that he actually took a step back, her amber eyes glowing in the dim light of the shop.

But the little man was nowhere to be found. They searched the entirety of the shop, finding nothing in the back but spiderwebs and the dry skeleton of what might have been a rat. When they emerged from the storeroom at the back, they passed through the shop - careful to touch nothing this time - and the orc growled, “Listen, there’s a goblin who runs a jewellery shop back up towards the town square. He might be able to get this off.”

Virion nodded, still shaken and feeling a little wobbly in the knees. Magic wasn’t something he wanted anything to do with, and yet here he was, with some ancient ring stuck on his hand. Just like him to barrel headlong into trouble without a care in the world.

“Since we’re in this predicament together,” he ventured amicably as the orc led the way through the street without looking back at the shop, “I’m Virion.”

With little more than a fleeting, sidelong look down at him from her impressive height, she grunted, “Rakasha.”

She seemed to have little interest in further conversation, so he simply strode along beside her, keeping pace easily enough, and occasionally bringing his hand up to stare at the ring in the sunlight.

The goblin, however, had no good news for them. He tried to cut the rings off using some beefy looking wire cutters, but they glanced off the surface without leaving so much as a scratch. “I suspect a saw wouldn’t do any better either. Might lop your finger off, and who knows what that would do to you…” He rubbed his long ear thoughtfully with gnarled fingers and said, “Mmm… these are magic, for sure. You’d be better off going to somewhere like the University up at Grantbridge. They’ll have mages there who’ll be able to help you. I’m sorry.”

Rakasha snarled and stormed out without so much as a thank you to the goblin, and Virion turned back to the tiny creature with a sigh. Before he was able to articulate even the first syllable of his thank you, blinding pain erupted in his stomach again and his knees buckled. Clutching his middle, he went down like a felled tree as white heat burst through his skull and he could barely think through the sudden shock of agony.

The goblin scuttled around the counter and crouched beside him, just as Rakasha lurched back in through the door. As she did, the pain eased, and Virion opened his eyes, panting. “What the…?” he wheezed.

The jeweller looked from one to the other of them and his black eyes widened. “I’ve heard of enchanted objects like this,” he said, his reedy voice grim and hushed. “You can’t go further than a short distance from one another…”

Virion chuckled mirthlessly. “You might have mentioned that sooner, friend,” he said, and the goblin shot him a sheepish look of apology.

“Oh fuck this,” Rakasha rumbled, still holding onto the open door for support and looking a little paler than she had done a minute ago. “As if having a cursed ring stuck to my hand wasn’t enough, I end up tied to a pathetic little human? How far is it to Grantbridge from here?”

Virion wasn’t exactly a hulking tower of warrior muscle, but neither was he small or weedy, and he scowled openly at the orc.

“Three weeks on foot?” the goblin hedged, steadying Virion as he clambered to his feet for a second time since putting on the ring. “Maybe a bit less for you two,” he added with a wry grin down at his own small boots.

“What if I just kill him and cut the ring off his finger?” she growled.

The goblin’s mottled grey-green skin blanched a little at that, and he held up his hands in a pacifying gesture, as if he thought she might just gut Virion then and there in his shop. Virion too took a step back, eyes fearful. The jeweller stammered, “M-Most of the time, or so I’ve heard, with such objects… if you were to do that, you’d only kill yourself as well… Your… Your life forces are linked, somehow… I’m not a mage though, so I… I don’t know the consequences of such extreme action…”

Rakasha looked at Virion with her amber eyes blazing like the setting sun, and said, “Tell me you don’t have some pressing business you need to get done first, right? Some wife and a brood of whelps you need to tend to…”

He shook his head sadly. “Just me,” he said. She seemed so full of anger, so defensive, so short-tempered and quick to dismiss others. This was going to be a long few weeks, he was sure of that.

After a brief stop at the tavern where he’d been staying, to collect his belongings and settle up, the two headed to the western corner of the small trading town, and began their journey up to Grantbridge. They would have to cross the Whispering Plains, a vast tract of grassland inhabited by centaurs, minotaurs, a few cervitaurs, and the bison folk, before hitting the Granta river, where they hoped to take passage on a barge, at the suggestion of the innkeeper at Virion’s former lodging. It should shave a few days off their journey time.

That first day as they trudged in almost complete silence along the Queen’s Road, through lush copses and gentle rolling hills, Virion thought Rakasha might still risk lopping his head off with the axe at her belt. She spoke no more than a few words to him, and by the time the sun was tipping towards the horizon, he had given up trying to make conversation with her. She just ignored him, as though he were some kind of yapping stray puppy who had decided to trot along at her heels for a while, and who would soon grow bored and go away.

Rakasha was tense, her shoulders set, her pace relentless as she marched along, and every now and again she would cock her head to one side, as though listening to the woods on their left for trouble. The sun grew warm in the late afternoon, and she shucked her long sleeved leather jerkin off to reveal her impressive torso, wrapped only in the bindings around her muscular breasts and leaving her smooth stomach and muscled arms bare. Virion, despite being more than wary of the orc and having only encountered her kind as vicious raiders in the past, couldn’t help but admire a being in the peak of fitness and conditioning. She was gorgeous too, he supposed in her powerful way.

Some time later, taking his eyes off the dirt track immediately in front of his boots, Virion glanced up and scowled. Up ahead there seemed to be a young looking cervitaur, lying limply on the side of the road. The two of them spotted him at the same time. Rakasha’s hand eased her axe in its holster while Virion immediately darted forwards, his mind already trying to evaluate his condition, even from that distance. The creature looked half-starved for a start, his hips standing out and his cervine and human ribs obvious as his chest heaved weakly.

Before he’d made it two paces down the road, Rakasha grabbed him by the top of his travel pack and hoiked him back as if it were the scruff of his neck, and growled at him to be careful. Biting back a hot flare of irritation, he batted her off with a carefully aimed swipe of his forearm. She released him more from surprise than his own martial arts skills - which were admittedly very limited. He’d just gone for the vulnerable bit where the muscle was thinnest and the bone unprotected. Who needed martial arts skills when your grasp of anatomy was as good as his…?

Kneeling at the dirty looking cervitaur’s side a moment or two later, he saw how thin and weak he looked.

“Help me?” he rasped.

“What happened?” Virion asked, wanting to run his hands over the cervitaur to check for injuries, but restraining himself to get permission first. “What hurts?”

Before he had the chance to hear any more, the cervitaur’s hazel eyes darted to a point just behind Virion’s head, and the man frowned, ducking sideways instinctively.

A gnoll had sprung silently out from the rocks above where the scrawny cervitaur lay, and launched himself at Virion. With a roar, Rakasha launched herself at a second bandit and at the same time, ripped the attacker back from Virion with her free hand. She cracked their skulls together, leaving them staggering and concussed, before knocking them out with the back of her single-bladed axe and turning to face the last bandit who had rounded a huge boulder just down the road.

Her hair fell down her back in its loose ponytail, and as she squared off, Virion’s eyes widened. The cervitaur she was facing now was huge, almost as powerful and muscular as a bison taur. With his stag’s antlers held high, he pawed the ground, and then lowered his torso a little and charged her.

Virion crouched beside the younger cervitaur, frozen with a kind of fascinated horror as the two fought. She was a complete force of nature. The cervitaur’s hooves lashed out but she ducked and dodged them, his antlers swept from side to side, but eventually she locked him in a wrestling move and tipped him onto his side, slamming him into the dirt of the road so hard he was left stunned and winded. Her axe blade hovered mere inches from his throat and he fell still.

From beside him, the younger cervitaur gasped, “Uncle…”

“That’s your uncle?” Virion blurted, horrified that the kid was so young and malnourished compared to his relative.

Rakasha still had her axe blade to his throat and was snarling something in his ear. The cervitaur nodded in response, and suddenly she’d bashed him on the side of the head too, leaving him unconscious as well.

“He’ll be fine,” she growled as she prowled over to the pair of them. Virion suspected that all three of them would need to see a healer though; concussions like that didn’t just go away. “I take it you were bait, kid?” she said and the cervitaur nodded. She shot Virion a look that told him quite plainly what she thought of him for falling for the ruse so quickly. “Can you stand?”

Shakily, he staggered to his feet and accepted the water skin that Virion handed him. “Thank you,” he said.

“You should run while you can,” Virion said. “Get to the town… This is no life for you, kid…”

“I’m not a kid,” he said with a watery smile. “I’m nineteen.”

“You need to get some meat on your bones,” Virion murmured. “There’s lots of work in the town, and it’s only eight miles or so that way. You’ll have to be careful.”

“I’ll be alright,” he shrugged.

Virion grinned at him, though it was hard not to feel deep concern for the underfed and malnourished young cervitaur. Virion had been there himself: alone, aimless, adrift from his family. He offered him the knife on his belt, but the cervitaur refused him gently. “Alright, well… take care,” Virion said, scratching the back of his head.

The two of them watched him trot off down the road, and Virion shot a glance over the three unconscious bandits. The male gnoll who had attacked him was still out cold, but the female flicked an ear groggily.

“Come on,” Rakasha snarled, and he turned to face her.

“You’re bleeding,” he said, only just noticing a bruised-looking gash on her upper arm, presumably where the stag’s antlers had got her.

She shook her head. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Wait,” he said, picking up his pack from where he’d slithered out of it during the scuffle. Rakasha continued down the road, and when she hit about twenty five feet from him, she grunted, staggering. Virion, however, experienced blinding pain in his gut and head and was not ashamed to howl in protest. “Fucking shit, Rakasha, at least let me grab my stuff will you?”

The orc grudgingly let him catch up and then grunted, “We should make camp for the night soon… while there’s still enough daylight.”

With a glance over his shoulder at the still-prone bandits, Virion added, “Let’s get another few miles first, eh?”

He couldn’t stop fussing - silently and only to himself, however - about the cut in her arm, and when they finally turned off the road perhaps only twenty minutes before sunset, she surprised him by allowing him to tend the wound. It wasn’t deep, and hadn’t needed stitches, but he fished out some alcohol and a clean cloth from his bag and wiped it down, eliciting a hiss from her, and a softly spoken curse in her own language.

“You know,” he said, “I… I feel like I have an apology to make to you…”

“For that?” she snorted, jutting her chin towards the freshly-tied bandage around her arm. “Please. That didn’t hurt.”

“No,” he laughed softly. “No, for assuming you were just a brutish thug, I guess.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and he flushed hot. “Care to elaborate?” she laughed.

He swallowed thickly. “You could have killed those guys today…” he said. “But you didn’t.”

Rakasha shrugged and stood, moving over to a log and rolling it a bit closer to the fire pit before plonking down on top of it and inspecting the bandage curiously. “I was going to, but I don’t want the law on my hands for murder. I’ve already got enough shit to deal with, being tied to you and cursed with this ring…”

Virion’s shoulders dropped a little bit and he caught Rakasha’s amber eyes watching him over the flames, glowing in the dim light.

“I’d be halfway across the plains by now if it weren’t for you,” she added, her voice gritty and harsh.

“What? How?”

She laughed, and while wasn’t exactly cruel, it was gruff and spoke of a tougher race than his own, for sure. “You can’t run beside an orc all day, human. Get some rest. We’ll start before dawn.”

He shook his head, fighting the disappointment that had bloomed in his chest. After so long on the road alone, he’d half hoped that this might turn into a tentative friendship, but the orc clearly regarded him as little more than a bothersome parasite. Honestly, he was tired, and although he was fairly fit and lean, his muscles ached from the pace she’d set that day. The orc was right - there was no way he could have run all the way to the ferry crossing on the Granta. Self-doubt and misery began to crowd into his mind, bringing with it memories of the most painful night of his life; the night he’d ended up alone and wandering the roads of this corner of the kingdom.

Needless to say, what with the creaking of the woods and the roots digging him in the back, and the nebulous unease that clawed at the inside of his mind, he didn’t sleep well. When he had sat up and scrubbed at his eyes with his hands, he found Rakasha staring at him.

“What?” he grumbled.

“You look like shit.”

“You’ve got leaves in your hair,” he retorted immediately, oddly reminded of the repartee he’d had with his sister for a moment. The sudden reminder and pain of Clara’s loss lanced through him and almost brought tears to his hazel eyes.

Rakasha, perhaps more curious than concerned, grunted, “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he said, though it came out as a croak. He cleared his throat. “You ready to make a move?”

She nodded but didn’t speak.

“How’s your arm?” he asked, standing and feeling the need to answer nature’s call.

She shrugged her beautiful, bare shoulder experimentally and pursed her lips. Her tusks were thick and short, her jaw heavy, but there was something monumental about her that he found strangely beautiful, especially in the dim pre-dawn light between the birch trees. “It’s good,” was all she said.

As he’d returned - not going all that far because he didn’t want to risk the flaring hot agony of getting beyond the permitted range of the rings - drawing closer to the campsite, he felt something odd tugging at him on the inside with each step. It reminded him of the intense pain he’d felt in his gut the day before when she’d gone on ahead of him. If he concentrated on it hard enough, he realised that it was drawing him towards her.

“You felt that too, I take it,” he said when he returned and saw that she had paused, halfway through scuffing out the embers of the fire. In answer, she simply shouldered her bow, axe glinting softly in the loop at her belt.

Stepping out onto the road, Rakasha rolled her shoulder again and said, “Where’d you learn medicine like that?” she asked. “You’re not a mage, are you?”

He shook his head, secretly pleased that he’d helped with the already-advanced healing process orcs possessed. “Nope,” he said, letting the consonant pop. His chest fizzled as he felt the conversation steering around towards his past, but he didn’t shy away from it. If they were going to be travelling together, he didn’t mind trying to forge some kind of relationship with her this way. And besides, her curiosity was better than her contempt from the previous day.

“My father was a physician,” he said, voice catching on the tense of the verb. “My older sister too.”

“Was?”

“They’re both dead.”

“Spirits shelter their souls,” she murmured reflexively, and he smiled at the unexpected sentiment. “What happened?”

Virion swallowed thickly and ran his hand through his scruffy brown hair. “I used to travel all over with them… helping people here and there, you know. Setting broken bones, stitching up cuts, that kind of thing. But I didn’t take it all that seriously. Not like they did.”

A stone scuffed beneath his boot and he kicked it along the path, watching it bounce off the ruts in the road.

“I… I was much younger than my sister, so their work always seemed like ‘grown-up stuff’, you know? I felt like an outsider a lot of the time, and even when I was seventeen or eighteen, I would usually go off and drink or show off for the girls or whatever instead.”

As lighting runs ahead of thunder, amusement flared in her golden eyes and Rakasha tipped her head back and laughed heartily this time, and Virion caught sight of a bead in her ponytail that was quite obviously made from an orc’s tusk. He immediately burned to ask her about it, but it felt like an extremely personal question, so he refrained from voicing it.

Instead, he asked, “What’s so funny about that?”

“Did it work?” she said, still chuckling. “Did you impress any of these soft human women into bed?”

“What do you think?” he grinned, encouraged by this more playful side of her.

She shook her head. “I can’t see anyone swooning into your lap, human,” she said, punching him on the arm. “But I’m an orc, so…”

“What’s impressive to an orc then?” he asked, trying not to show that her words had stung more than the punch had. “Rippling muscles and a bellowing war-cry?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” she said. “But I bet a mouse could fart louder than your war-cry.”

“I don’t even have a war-cry,” he said. “I’m a healer, remember?”

“True,” she hedged. “Maybe you don’t need one.”

They lapsed into silence after that for a bit before he continued his story. The sky above was cloudless and the pale blue of courtly silk, much like it had been that day when he’d walked into the village, heart heavy with dread and found them. The trees became sparser as they walked, and up ahead he could glimpse the sea of shifting grass that was the Whispering Plains and the start of the White Road.

“There… There was a report of plague and they… uh…” he cleared his throat, ignoring the prickling in his eyes. “They went to see what they could do for them.” He didn’t need to articulate what had happened next. “I didn’t hear from them in weeks, and eventually I went to look for them.”

Bodies bloated in the sun, the stench of death that the cloth around his mouth couldn’t mask, the withered remnants of his only family… He closed his eyes briefly, stilling his churning stomach, and then said, “I burned them and promised them I’d do better, that I’d be better.”

Rakasha blinked as he finished his story, looking down at him from her height, and tilted her head slightly. “That’s a terrible fate for anyone to meet,” she said respectfully. “And you risked bringing it on yourself as well to honour them…”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t leave them like that. They were all I had left.”

She nodded and returned her eyes to the road ahead. Something seemed to have shifted between them, like the stirring of a breeze after a week of stagnant calm.

In the two days it took them to cross most of the plains, using the White Road, so called because it had been cut into the chalk downland of the plains to leave a gleaming white ribbon across them. Virion learned something about Rakasha in return. She was the daughter of the chief of a big clan, came somewhere in the middle of eight siblings, and had set off on her own with her clan’s blessing to see a bit more of the world.

“It’s becoming more common,” she said, swatting a fly out of her face as they traipsed along. In the distance, a herd of centaurs looked up, sounding a short blast on a horn at their presence. Rakasha didn’t seem bothered, and the centaurs in these parts were not known for attacking travellers. “Younger orcs are almost taking it as a rite of passage. We’ve come to call it the Wandering.” She scratched at her tapered, pierced ear and shot him a look that was surprisingly self-conscious.

“What have you learned so far then?” he asked. He inferred from something about her manner that she’d found it a bit of a culture shock, but he was curious to see what she’d say.

The centaurs made no move to come any closer, but they were now all watching them now, perhaps half a mile away.

She shrugged. “Not to pick up shiny bits of jewellery in back-ally shops for a start…”

Virion chuckled and said, “Well, it’ll be a tale to tell when you get back to the hold.”

Her face darkened. “I hope this mage can help us,” she said, twisting the band of the ring on her finger.

“Tired of me already?” he quipped. He found he liked the challenge of trying to make her laugh, but the look she gave him this time took him by surprise; it was almost fond, behind the scowl.

“You’re like a stray dog that’s growing on me,” she said.

With an easygoing shrug, he laughed, “I’ll take what I can get.”

The centaurs turned out to be traders, and they exchanged a few objects and coppers for some roasted seeds and nuts, way-bread, and dried fruits to sustain them on the final stretch of the plains. It took a week to cross the plains, and in that time Rakasha opened up to him a bit more. She explained the meaning behind the dotted tattoos on her knuckles and when he dared to ask about the tusk  bead in her hair she smiled and said it was in remembrance for a dear friend she’d lost in one of the raids.

Finally, on a swelteringly hot afternoon, they made their way down through the sun-bleached and -blasted grasses towards the Granta river. A modest, wooden jetty stuck out a few yards into the slow-moving water, half hidden by tall, rustling reeds.

They only had to wait overnight for a river barge going downriver to come by the empty dock, and after bartering with the harpy captain for passage, the two were welcomed aboard. At the stern of the wide, flat river barge was a structure a bit like a shed, built to shelter the travellers and crew from inclement weather, but the rest of the deck was full of cargo boxes, crates, and barrels.

“There’s not much room for you to lodge,” the harpy said, as they stepped aboard, “But we’ll be there in three days and the weather’s set to stay fair.”

“Thank you,” Virion said with a deliberate smile that ruffled her feathers a little.

She scowled at Rakasha though and croaked, “You keep your weapons sheathed and cause no trouble, orc.”

To Virion’s surprise, his companion only bowed her head and strode to the other side of the barge to stare off into the water as it sloshed past.

He joined her briefly and she turned her head a little as she admitted, “I’ve never been on a boat before.”

“Hope you don’t feel sick,” he grinned. “If you do, I think I have some ginger somewhere in my pack.”

“I’d rather not chew on a tuber that’s been rolling around the bottom of your bag for spirits-only-know-how-long,” she snarled, but there was no venom in her tone now. “It’d probably make me sicker than the water.”

Their fellow travellers were not numerous, it being a cargo barge after all, but a small group of musicians was headed to the university town as well. Virion immediately settled down in their midst that evening after a day of reading one of the books he’d picked up in Sycamore Gap - the town where he’d first met Rakasha. He found himself welcomed by three tieflings, all with different skin colours and horns, and an enormous and extremely friendly firbolg. Rakasha kept very much to herself, but on their first night, when the group pulled out a bodhrán, violin, a small harp, and a flute, and started to sing, she looked up from the crate where she’d been seated for most of the day.

On the second night, the firbolg, named Aeqen, asked her if she’d like to come and have a drink with them, and she nodded gruffly, sitting cross legged on the deck beside the small barrel where Virion been perched.

Glancing down at her, he saw the way the fae-light in the lamps highlighted her cheekbones and glinted on her unadorned tusks. As if feeling the weight of his gaze, she looked up at him, and scowled. He laughed and handed her a beer from one of the tieflings, and she downed half of it in one go.

“Ready to make port tomorrow?” Aeqen asked conversationally, and began to beat a rhythm on the bodhrán in his lap. Liliana, one of the tieflings with freckled blue skin began to trill out a quick tune on her flute and in no time the other two tieflings were dancing.

He nodded. “It’s been a nice change of pace on the water though,” Virion said.

They sat finishing up their beers for a while, but every time Virion looked over at the firbolg, he saw the way the creature’s large eyes lingered on Rakasha as she sat there thoughtfully, her eyes on the dancing tieflings as if she’d never seen anyone dancing before. Assuming it was interest on the firbolg’s part, and that if anyone might have the physique to impress the orc, it would be him, Virion found that the dregs of his bottle tasted bitter, and he set it aside and stood, silently excusing himself and stalking to the back of the barge.

He was still sifting through the roiling emotions when someone cleared their throat behind him and he turned around to see Rakasha standing in the shadows, back lit by the fae-lamps further along the deck. “You alright?” she asked, her already husky voice gruff and quiet.

“Yeah,” he said, turning his back on her. “Just… wanted some air.”

“You want me to go?”

When he didn’t respond, she stepped closer to him, and they both felt the draw of their cursed rings. She put a hand on his lower back and tension ratcheted up his spine, one vertebra at a time.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, her touch fluttering slightly.

Virion shook his head and the pressure of her warm palm returned for a moment before disappearing completely.  

“I wish I understood you humans,” she said, chuffing a soft laugh and leaning her forearms on the railings, mirroring his posture.

“Let me know if I can help,” he said. “After all, you are leashed to one…”

She nodded but didn’t go any further.

The water slid by in a river of inky blackness, the reeds whispering at the edges.

Rakasha broke the silence again a few moments later and said, “I wonder if there are merfolk in these parts…”

“Probably,” he said. “They’ll be upstream of a city, for sure. I think I saw one of the alligator folk earlier. Their eyes reflect in the dark a bit like orcs’ do…”

He shot her a sidelong look and found that her golden eyes were indeed flashing in the dark like a predator’s as she stared at him.

“I was wrong about you,” she said quietly.

“Oh?”

“Mmm. Remember when I told you that I was doing my Wandering when I first met you?”

Virion nodded, but didn’t dare move a muscle in case he spooked this new, gentler side of her.

“I’ve not mixed with other species much,” she said.

That much was obvious, but he kept that to himself.

“I… I guess you could say I was - am - pretty naive…”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say that,” he said with false politeness and they both laughed.

After a moment she continued. “I thought humans were… honestly pathetic. Most of you have so little muscle and you’re so damned fragile… but… you’re not, are you?”

“There’s more than one way to be strong,” he murmured, watching the reeds slip by in the dim glow cast by the barge’s lamps. “You want to go and dance?”

She laughed, and perhaps her cheeks darkened a bit, but it was hard to tell in that light. “I think I’ll just watch for now, if that’s alright.”

They returned to the small party, and while Virion sat on his usual barrel, Rakasha decided to lean her body up against it so that her head was almost touching his thigh. He found it hard to get to sleep that night, with thoughts of what her long, dark hair might feel like and what her skin might feel like against his. He thought that he should have been surprised to be thinking like that, to be seeing the orc in a new light, but if he were honest with himself, he’d admired her physically from the beginning. It was only now that he was starting to get to know Rakasha that he found himself fantasising about her a little though.

Grantbridge, the city that cradled the university in its midst, was vast. Rakasha was obviously completely overwhelmed by the sheer volume of people, the chaos and noise, the bustle, the clatter, the shouting and the smell of it all, but she never flinched or backed down. Perhaps surprisingly, however, she did follow Virion’s lead as they found their way - eventually - to the university, and at last were admitted to the professor’s study.

“Thank you for seeing us at such short notice,” Virion smiled, and the tall woman in a long, white robe grinned at him. Her skin was dark and flawless, and her black eyes glittered with warm intrigue. “I thought we might have to make an appointment and come back another day.”

“When the clerk informed me that we had a case of cursed rings on our hands - oh, please excuse the pun - I couldn’t refuse you, my dears,” she said. “Now, if you’ll let me examine them?” she asked, stretching out her hand, palm up.

Virion cautiously obliged first, and she turned his finger over, examining the markings on the band.

“Oh, yes,” she crooned delightedly. “I’ve heard of such rings! These are incredibly rare. See this inscription?” she said, pointing at the writing that neither of them had been able to read. They both leaned in and then nodded. “It’s in Ancient Telvhen - a precursor to modern High Elvish, which in itself is a very old language. Fascinating. And the dragons - I believe this alludes to a very old story from the Telvheni empire about a prince and a beautiful dragon shifter… Oh, I’d love to hear where you got them from, but that’s a story for afterwards perhaps. Let me translate the inscription for you.”

She slid a pair of half-moon spectacles onto her nose and cleared her throat.

“It is more or less as follows: ‘Each with different heart, together shall they part.’”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Rakasha asked, a heavy scowl weighing down her dark brows.

“Let me see yours, my dear,” the mage asked, not even batting an eyelid at her coarse language, and Rakasha obliged with a wary glance at Virion. He nodded and she gave him the ghost of a reassured smile. “Ah yes, look, the same inscription. And you’ve travelled together from Sycamore Gap to get here? Impressive.”

“Fuck how far we’ve come,” Rakasha snarled. “How can we get them off?”

Bile rose in Virion’s throat, fearing that if the orc continued to insult the mage she would refuse to help them, but the woman only laughed brightly and said, “Have you tried just taking them off?”

“Of course we did, you -” she began, but Virion cut her off with a thwack across her stomach. She turned to look at him, about to snarl something at him for hitting her, but when she saw the look on his face, she cursed in orcish.

“That, my dear,” the mage chuckled, “Is a phrase I will have to remember for the next time I’m in the company of the necromancers from the Chapter at Arlesford…”

Rakasha didn’t even respond as she watched Virion slide the ring easily off his index finger. “How?” he breathed, staring at her with his hazel eyes wide. “We couldn’t… We… They were…” Astounded - and a bit embarrassed - he couldn’t fathom it.

The mage smiled. “‘Each with different heart, together shall they part’” she quoted. “Might I be wrong in suggesting that the two of you have come to see things differently during the course of your journey here?”

At that, Virion and Rakasha exchanged a look. “Well… yeah,” he said, “But…”

“You mean we didn’t have to come all this way here?” she said. “That we could have just taken them off before now?”

“It’s hard to know when the magic left the rings,” the mage replied, turning back to her desk with a twinkle in her eye. “But I believe they have done their purpose…”

“And what purpose is that?” Rakasha asked. Virion noted that she had made no move to take her own ring off, but he thought that perhaps she was still too stunned.

It was Virion who answered. “To bring two people with different views together.”

“It’s a famous past-time amongst the meddling fae,” the mage said as she sat back down at her desk. “I might suggest that if you were to go back to wherever you came across these, you would not find things quite as you left them.”

“You couldn’t pay me enough gold to go back to that place,” Rakasha laughed. “So we’re free of the magic completely now?”

“As far as my not-inconsiderable abilities can tell, there is nothing left in those rings. They are but ordinary bands of silver. Do with them as you please, and go where you will. Though I suspect that if you take them off, you will not find them in your possession for long. These things have a way of finding new owners and new people to help…”

“Interesting way of helping,” Rakasha grumbled.

“Thank you for your time,” Virion said, his voice a little shaky.

“Pleasure,” the mage said. “Though I suppose I should be thanking you for helping delay the inevitable…” she eyed a stack of papers at the corner of her expansive desk and groaned, “First year exam papers…”

“Good luck!” Virion laughed, and they left her to her marking.

Outside the university, in the wide square directly opposite the main building, they stood and watched the stalls and stages going up for the festival which began that very night. Too stunned for conversation, they just stood there like additions to the statuary that lined the walls of the old university. A short while later, in a far corner of the square, they glimpsed the musicians with whom they had travelled downriver, and the giant firbolg even waved at them across the open space.

Rakasha waved back and Virion nodded.

“What now?” the orc asked as the musicians returned their attention to their preparations for the evening. It was the first time either of them had dared address the issue.

Virion shrugged. “I guess we could go our separate ways… no need for you to delay your Wandering by - what did you call it? - ‘babysitting a stray puppy’?”

Rakasha’s cheeks did darken to a beautiful olive green at that, and she kicked at a pebble beneath her feet, sending it skittering under the iron rimmed wheels of a passing waggon. Her fingers twisted the band on her finger as she said, “I think you know I don’t see you that way anymore…”

With a grin, he said, “We could stay here for a bit then?”

She nodded.

The first inn they found charged outrageous prices, so they went a little further back from the market square and found a boarding house run by a drider who was friendlier to non-humans and offered them surprisingly reasonable rates for her one remaining room. A double, as it happened.

“You mind sharing?” Virion asked and she grinned.

“Do you?” she fired back.

The festival was beautiful. Mage-crafted fireworks soared into the sky from the crenellations of the university building, and music played and people danced. There was a play that utterly entranced Rakasha, and after they had sampled from a number of stalls selling food from all over the continent, Virion even managed to coerce Rakasha into dancing with him, the two of them slotting into line at the end of a simple partner dance before it started.

It wasn’t complicated, and he found himself entranced at the way her eyes glittered in the low light and how her tusks glinted as she laughed.

They caught up with the troupe from the barge some while later, but Virion could hardly take his eyes from Rakasha. Her skin gleamed with a slight sheen of sweat from dancing, and she seemed almost a different creature now.

“Here,” Aeqen laughed, putting a flower crown around her head. “Perfect.”

She blushed like a temple virgin and tried not to look at Virion, which only made them all laugh.

Eventually, when they’d had their fill of festival sweets and vigorous dancing, they shared a look that said the same thing, and they left the square, heading through the streets to their little boarding house room. Rakasha took his hand in hers and squeezed it.

“You enjoy tonight?” she asked, and he nodded. The rings clicked softly together as the bands connected briefly in their intertwined hands.

“Yeah. You… uh…” he said awkwardly. “You looked…”

“What?” she laughed, her long hair loose and flowing down her back. She was still wearing the flower crown.

“Honestly… gorgeous…” he finished rather lamely, and she grinned, halting.

They’d paused in a tiny little square with barely enough room for a stone fountain in the space between the houses, but she drew him close and leaned down, tilting his chin up. His jaw bore the scruff of more than a few days without shaving, but she didn't seem to object as she tilted his face up and lowered her own towards him. Her eyes were incredible and he forgot how to breathe as she began to kiss him.

He reached his hands up into her thick, dark hair and gripped her so tightly she growled and drew back.

She quirked a questioning eyebrow and he nodded.

The two of them made their way back to the boarding house without stopping again, though Virion’s dark leggings definitely seemed a size too small.

Inside their room, Rakasha backed him into the door by way of closing it, and ground herself against him. He wasn’t short, but he felt more than a little dwarfed by her size and strength. Exhilarated by that, breathless, dizzy, and thrumming all over, he kissed her back, his hands wandering over her body, desperate for a touch of her skin.

He pushed her back, and she obliged curiously. Virion’s fingers slid under her loose tunic and she shrugged it off, bearing her muscular torso for him. He jutted his chin towards the bed and she backed slowly towards it, coyly undoing the laces at the top of her loose trousers. He sank his teeth into his lower lip and watched her slide the fabric - trousers and undergarments as one - free of her wide hips. Next came the fabric binding around her breasts. The muscles of her abs clenched as he reached for them and with a feather-light touch, he pushed her back onto the bed.

She parted her legs invitingly and he struggled out of his own clothing, abandoning it all on the floor beside the bed.

When he returned his attention to her, her fingers had slid between her legs and she was slowly circling her swollen clit, her golden eyes locked on him. Her other hand had cupped her breast and she pinched her hardening nipple between finger and thumb and he felt his cock twitch and swell.

Her eyes tracked the movement and she jutted her chin, trying to get him to come closer. He obeyed and ran his hand over the clearly-defined muscles of her thighs, watching the way her breath hitched visibly, her back arching at the drag of his fingertips over her dark green skin.

“Rakasha,” he said, voice husky and a little deeper. “Tell me what you want?”

“You,” she snarled. “I want you.”

His hand closed around his cock and he worked himself to full hardness while he watched her teasing herself. She was slick and wet and so inviting that it didn’t take long for him to kneel between her legs and line himself up with her entrance. Her lips parted and her jaw went slack, and he watched her throat work as she swallowed. He wondered what it’d feel like if she did that with his cock in her mouth, and it responded accordingly, twitching and leaking pre-come down onto her clit.

“Hurry up,” she snarled, bending one leg at the knee and shifting her hips invitingly. He didn't need telling twice.

As he slid slowly inside her tight heat, he rested his left hand on her bent leg, stretching her as he entered her, and she let out a deep, guttural moan. Her muscles clenched around him and he fought the urge to come like a virgin inside her already. Breathing deeply, he sank hilt-deep into her and paused.

“You’re so tight,” he gasped, leaning forwards head bowing.

Reaching for him, she grabbed his hair and snarled, “Move…”

Unable to deny her request, he rolled his hips back and forth, breathless at the sensations of her body around his, the slick heat of her. Sounds began to roll out of her as her chest heaved and she played with her breasts. She never took her eyes off his face though. He moved his thumb to her clit and circled in time with each thrust, and he felt her react to his touch immediately.

Her breathing quickened, chest heaving, and she arched and thrashed as he took her closer. White hot pleasure coiled in him and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. Picking up his speed, he altered his angle a little and caught that place inside her that made her cry out. Her tusks jutted upwards, her hands abandoned her chest and grabbed the sheets as she arched and writhed beneath him.

“Come for me,” she demanded, opening her eyes again, and as her gaze met his, his release ripped through him like a landslide. A second later, she followed him, and the clenching of her muscles around his cock drew out his own pleasure until he was shaky and weak all over. He fell forwards onto his elbows, breathing hard, barely missing her face as he collapsed on top of her.

Her hands found his back and began to trace idle lines over his skin while he panted, heartbeat thudding in his ears.

Playfully, she squeezed her inner muscles around him and he grunted a half-hearted complaint, which only made her laugh.

Eventually he rolled onto his side, grunting softly as he slid free of her, and she followed and tucked his body gently against her side. Her lips landed softly on his sweaty temple and she whispered, “Little human, did I break you?”

He shook his head, unable to form words just yet.

“You sure?”

“Shut up,” he grinned, considering elbowing her in the ribs, and she laughed.

“If someone had told me back at that bazaar that I’d be lying in bed with a human who had just made me come like that,” she said, “I’d have sunk my axe into them… probably…”

“Funny how the world works,” Virion said, his words slurring a little as an immense exhaustion washed through him.

He barely noticed Rakasha slipping free of him and cleaning herself up, only to return and draw the sheets up over them both. She curled up on her side, facing away from him, and he rolled over and nuzzled up against the bulwark of her back, inhaling the scent of her thick hair and the expanse of her soft green skin.

He let his hand play over the dip in her waist for just a moment longer, and then hugged himself a little closer before sleep claimed him and he sank willingly down into it.

—

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

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[wingsofninewheels]

edit: @yagirlyacchan has brought to my attention that the original 2017 LN release of nr-001 came with tune at dawn and clair’s wish. as of the update, it’s confirmed that the crafting order will include those, NOT singing phoenix and red shoes. sorry for the potential misinformation. i went from both NI and some imgur screenshots from other servers

Return Craft Cost Estimates for NR-001

Under the cut is information that isn’t correct for LN server. Before the cut is updated info. I’ve left the incorrect breakdown on here for a visual--replace the materials in parentheses with items from Clair’s Wish. Because LN uses different suits, the price on LN is about 200 dia greater.* Materials not in parentheses are still correct. (E.g., she still requires Sweetie, Athena’s Armor Purple, Fashion Pioneer Boy, Multicolor Scarf, Water Pearl, and Noble Necklace, as well as all the same items that cost gold, in all the same amounts.)

Crafting is tiered, but doesn’t require completing the previous suit in order to work on the next one. This means you don’t have to finish all of Tune at Dawn to work on a specific piece of Clair’s Wish, and you don’t have to finish all of Clair’s Wish in order to work on a specific piece of NR-001. (So if you only want Hologram Communicator, for example, as far as dia-cost materials, all you need is Clair’s pattern pack, 4 Fashion Pioneer Boy, 1 Dusk Shadow, 1 Boots in Snow, 1 Musical Stockings, 3 Fresh Socks, 1 Floating Dream Island, and 3 Fallen Leaves. It’s a little steep to have to buy the pattern pack if you only want one piece of NR-001 and don’t want any parts of Clair, but it’s better than having to buy the entire previous two suits, or craft NR-001 chronologically like Zashiki+Tengu.)

As of 2020.05.11, NR-001 is craftable, and requires Clair’s Wish and Tune at Dawn to craft.

Clair’s Wish and Tune at Dawn together cost about 1555 dia for V0, as well as 450 dia for the patterns in the User Shop.

Once you have those two suits, NR-001 itself costs 1500 dia.

If you need to buy/craft all three suits, NR-001 will cost 3505 dia.

N.B. NR-001 can be cheaper than this: Some things like Fashion Pioneer Boy can be Princess farmed (e.g., those can drop from 5-1 and 7-S2 for free, if you’re patient). I’m pretty sure at least one of them is a possible Pavilion drop, too. Most notably is Hologram Communicator, which besides the cost of Clair’s boots and hosiery, can be dia-free.

I stuck the info under a cut that’s now incorrect for LN, for those who’re curious.

*  When I say CN NR-001 is 200 cheaper than LN NR-001, I mean “Red Shoes + Singing Phoenix” would have been that much cheaper than “Tune at Dawn + Clair’s Wish.” Once you have the two required tiered suits, no matter which server you’re on, LN-001 still costs 1500.

(Possible) Return Craft Costs for NR-001

If it follows the crafting order of other servers, NR-001 will return for crafting on LN server 2020.05.11; along with it, Singing Phoenix (for crafting) and Red Shoes (to the store). I am sure the exact breakdowns have already been posted elsewhere, but I could only find crafting screenshots, not math, so I went ahead and did it myself. (If someone could confirm whether NR-001 and Singing Phoenix have Starlight Store recipes, or if they’ll be added to the Time Diary, that’d be awesome.)

NR-001 requires Singing Phoenix and Red Shoes for tiered crafting. You don’t have to craft the suits to completion in order to work on the higher cost suit(s), but you do have to have parts of Red Shoes for Singing Phoenix, and parts of Singing Phoenix for NR-001. (E.g., if all you want is the posed dress Code-001, you only have to buy Music Box Dance and craft Phoenix Robe to do so.)

If you need to obtain both of the lower-cost suits, NR-001 will cost you 3345 dia and 548643 gold.

If you already have Singing Phoenix and Red shoes (I often see them in the Secret Shop), NR-001 will only cost you 1500 dia and 121515 gold.

If you have Red Shoes and not Singing Phoenix, NR-001 will cost you 2534 dia and 429883 gold.

If you have Singing Phoenix and not Red Shoes, NR-001 will cost you 2311 dia and 240275 gold.

Additionally, for the lower-tier suits, in case you don’t want NR-001:

If you have Red Shoes and want Singing Phoenix, it’ll cost you 1034 dia and 308368 gold.

If you don’t have Red Shoes and want Singing Phoenix, it’ll cost you 1845 dia and 427128 gold.

If you only want Red Shoes, she’s 811 dia and 118760 gold.

* These costs may vary slightly, because several crafting items are also level drops and able to be pulled from pavilions. I also realize I forgot the 48000 gold for crafting Singing Phoenix, and the 48000 gold for crafting NR-001. (8000 per piece.) And again, I don’t know for certain whether they’re Time Diary recipes, so they might also cost Star Coins.

[drclawsarcanetbcguide]

Dr. Claw's guide for arcane mages in TBC

This is a guide for those that want to play an arcane mage in phase one of TBC classic. It is not intended to convince you it is better than fire. Also, if there is a typo in my simulation code, this will affect the results :P. 

This is an analytical approach, and does not include procs or trinkets, as these are difficult to handle analytically. The simulation-based aproach of Osthyvel (https://cheesehyvel.github.io/magesim-tbc2/) is better for optimizing individual gear pieces, and includes trinkets and procs.

Introduction

Arcane mages in TBC get a new spell called Arcane Blast (AB). When cast it gives you a debuff that increases the mana cost of AB by 75%, and reduces the casting time by 0.33s. The debuff stacks up to 3 times, and lasts for 8 seconds. The default casting time is 2.5s, and this goes down to 1.5 on 3 stacks.

Note that cast time is calculated when you click the button, but mana cost is calculated when the spell is cast. If you start casting while the debuff has less than 1s left, you will cast it fast for cheap.

Also note that the AB debuff increases the mana cost by 70% of the base mana, and is applied after other modifiers (arcane power, tier 5 set). This makes AB benefit more from arcane power than other spells. 

Basic premise The basic premise of the arcane mage is that you have two rotations. One save rotation and one burn rotation. You balance these so that you go OOM (out-of-mana) at the same time as the boss dies. The burn rotation will be an arcane blast spam

The save rotation will differ for arcane-frost and arcane-fire: arcane-frost:     3xAB->3xFrostbolt arcane-frost:     3xAB->Frostbolt->AM arcane-frost:     Frostbolt spam arcane-fire:        3xAB->Scorch->AM arcane-fire:        3xAB->scorch->2xFireball arcane-fire:        Fireball spam (keeping up scorch debuff)

The differences are not huge, but 3xAB->3xFrostbolt is the best possible rotation with arcane-frost, while a Fireball spam or 3xAB->scorch->2xFireball is best for fire (FB spam is slightly weaker, but easier to maintain, the difference is slight). 3xAB->scorch->2xFireball will be significantly better once you get 2 pc tier 5 set. (with any arcane-fire spec you will have to cast scorch to ramp and keep up the scorch debuff). 

Note that if you are arcane-frost, you can optimize your 3xAB->3xFrostbolt rotation by casting AM when you get a clearcasting proc, so long as you don’t drop the AB debuff. This has minimal effect on your DPS (detremental if you have high latency) but is good tip for conserving mana if you spend too much in the beginning of the fight. 

Switching between rotations

Typically you will use your burn rotation relatively early while popping all CDs and trinkets. Using your CDs together with an AB spam gives you the most benefit. Once they arcane power, icy veins and your trinket buffs have faded you may mix and match the rotations as you see fit for the rest of the fight. 

A god tip is to try to match your mana to the boss HP. You do this by inserting extra AB into your rotation to burn any additional mana you may have.

If you get a second Icy Veins (by cold snap) or heroism not matched with arcane power and/or trinkets, you may use the burn or save rotation during this as you see fit. You may think you get more benefit if you use AB spam, but since you balance you mana so that you go oom at the end of the fight anyway it does not matter. (think of heroism/icy veins as increasing the fight duration). However, cycles such as 3xAB->3xFrostbolt rotation does not work with icy veins because AB debuff no longer drops due to the shorter casttime of FB. I have found no obvious way to deal with this, and you may find that you have to do a frostbolt spam or fireball spam, if you don’t have the mana for AB spam.

Balancing your rotations

If you know how long the fight will be, you can calculate how much time you should spend in each rotation. Mathematically this is not complicated, and I have plotted the amount of damage you do from each rotation in the plot below. The x-axis is the total time you spend casting. The blip at 60s is from evocation. Before this the optimal play is to not use evocation, while after this the optimal play is to use evocation. (I do not included wand-dps after you go oom, although that is not shown in this plot. I also do not let you use AP etc. twice)

In practice you will start with the  save rotation until the boss is at low HP and then switch to the burn rotation.

If we divide the total damage by the time, we get the average DPS:

As an arcane mage your average DPS will be higher the shorter the fight is. (although this is also true for other classes/specs due to cooldowns).

Talents and gear: The above plots are calculated with the following talent spec: https://legacy-wow.com/tbc-talents/mage-talents/?tal=2520050300030150330125000000000000000000000000535000310030010000000

and pre-raid, no PVP gear with crafted gems: https://seventyupgrades.com/set/c37P41hxKGNvQkh36a9UYD (I mean this to be an example of early gear, and I ignore the difference in +spllpower for different schools, and the set bonus from the spellfire set. The code supports it, so you may include these yourself.)

Optimizing your gear means finding the right stat weights.  I did this by calculating the derivative of the damage done with respect to the different stats. This will also depend on the fight duration, as you can see in the plot below:

Note how high intellect is. You can see the stat weights I used for the gear at the link above. (spirit will be lower in molten armor)

Arcane fire vs Arcane frost Here arcane fire uses the same stats as arcane frost and the following build:

https://legacy-wow.com/tbc-talents/mage-talents/?tal=2520050300030150330125050500201230000000000000030000000000000000000 You may observe that arcane fire outperforms arcane frost for fights longer than ~160s. This is primarily due to Icy Veins, which you can use twice with Cold Snap. I am assuming you get maximum benefit from this, which may not be possible in fights where you have to move, where maintaining a fireball spam is easier (even if you have to keep up the scorch debuff)

Comparison to Fire

I am assuming you are raid buffed (Blessing of kings, blessing of wisdom, improved mark of the wild, improved divine spirit, curse of elements with malediction, and judgment of wisdom on the boss). You are also using your mana emerald and a single mana potion. (I am using molten armor. At this gear level the choice of armor makes no difference to the DPS of arcane specs, but is significant for fire. At better gear the arcane mages want mage armor) The fire build includes Icy Veins: https://legacy-wow.com/tbc-talents/mage-talents/?tal=0000000000000000000000050520201230333105312510235000010000000000000 With conventional stat weights: https://seventyupgrades.com/set/rognn7N3mUmUT53xFzzxxM

It appears that the difference is not huge. It is easier to see the difference if we just plot the % difference, here with respect to fire. 

The optimal spec depends on the fight duration, and we can see above that arcane is superior for fight durations shorter than ~160 s or longer than ~200s.

Realistically, I expect fight durations between 90 and 180 s (+movement and other phases). I base this on the number of casts our mages do during various bosses in naxx, but other ppl in the community can probably estimate this better than me. We don’t know how this will shake out in TBC classic. For Arcane Fire, the difference to Fire is less than ~ -4% on the negative side. At this point the player matters more than the spec.

Shadow Priest and Innervate

It is somewhat likely that you will have a shadow priest in the raid, and if you do, it should be placed in your group. It is also somewhat likely that a druid can innervate you. The following plot shows the DPS you can expect with one innervate and a shadow priest 1000 DPS (you get 5% of this as mana)

At this point the fire mage will never go oom, and never use evocation. There is a single crossover point at around 180s. We can see more detail in the relative plot. 

Again all three configurations appear reasonable for reasonable fight durations. The take-home message from these plot should be that fire-mages also benefit from SP, as it means they don’t have to use evocation (and take the DPS hit that gives). But arcane mages benefit more. Another thing to note is that arcane-frost is only better than arcane fire due to cold snap. If you don’t use cold snap (and/or if you have the spellfire set) you should consider arcane fire.

Frost spec In TBC frost mages get water elemental, which is a huge DPS up combined with cold snap If you can keep it alive. I am also making the assumption that the WE has enough mana to cast continuously. I am not sure if this is true. (frost mages use same gear as fire)

On paper frost looks decent. However, I don’t expect you to be able to follow this curve exactly, since it assumes 2x icy veins and 2x water elemental, without the WE dying. (but if you can, all the more power too you!)

Why do some players say that arcane is only good after you get t5? Not everyone has realized how important intellect is to an arcane mage. If you gear your arcane mage with focus on +spelldamge (like a fire mage, or as you did all of classic), you get the following result instead:

You can see how fire now outperforms arcane in all (basically) fights.  The key to playing arcane is to select gear with a lot of int! My arcane mage has 497 int, while my fire mage has only 333. A lot of this is from gems. The arcane mage uses Yellow +8 int gems. (these will probably be dirt cheap, compared to red gems...) On the topic of t5: This is what it looks like if we simply add the 2 piece t5 bonus:

Why should you trust this?

You shouldn’t trust this blindly. I have verified my code against a spreadsheet i found online from 2008, and it agrees generally with osthyvls sims. 

You can download my source code here https://github.com/ClawDoctor/TBC_GUI_sim. You may run it with python3 or the executable (TBC_mage.exe included here https://www.dropbox.com/s/6gi620649sdfmdy/TBC_GUI_sim-main.zip?dl=1) on windows. (but you probably shouldn’t trust a random .exe you download from a shady site on the internet...). It looks like this,  

Where the talent configurations are in text files (see the file browser on the left) and the stats are in separate text files in the same folder. You select the mages you want to compare and click ‘run’.

You can also select and compare different buff states, by selecting different configurations:

There may be bugs i still haven’t found, and I will update this post if I discover some

[tristis-333]

Ranking Persona 5 Royal’s third tier Personas

So I’ve wanted to do this for a while. I’ve been making a lot more contemplative post lately and it’s time for something more fun because I have a lot of opinions on these new Personas. So starting off with the worse,

9. Agnes

Agnes is easily the worse design of the new Persona’s because the original form, Johana, beats her out in every single possible category. First off the name, I know she’s based on the historical documents but every time I hear the name all I can picture is Makoto riding in on someone’s grandma. The gold is nice, but the black is very dull in comparison to Johana’s silvers and blues. Why isn’t she navy blue? You know Makoto’s signature color? Then there’s what it does to the symbolism of Makoto’s development. Some people have interpreted Johana transforming to Anat as symbolic of Makoto learning to stand on her own two feet, Anat stands tall like Makoto vows to. So with it turning back into a bike does that mean Makoto isn’t standing on her own anymore? Agnes fails to surpass her’s original and nothing it brings to the table is interesting enough to make it stand on her own. She skids in at dead last.

8 Al Azif

Al Azif is marginally better than Agnes, but suffers again from not taking certain ideas far enough. The colors are much duller, yet again. And while I do enjoy the modern star ship design nothing about it really makes it stand out from anything you might see in Star Trek or any other sci-fi film. I think adding in more of the gothic elements from Necronomicon would have done a lot to amplify the design. Make it more golden to call back to the pyramid that served as Futaba’s palace, and add gargoyles and brighten the lights to neon green to make them pop more. Persona 5 is supposed to be stylish but Al Azif is little more than a shiny pebble.

7. Ella

Ella is kinda of an odd ball among the Personas because while I really like her design she just doesn’t feel like she fits with Sumire. I, and many other people, have complained that Sumire’s thief outfit doesn’t fit with her Persona. This is only made more obvious by the fact that her previous form, Vanadis, was such a better fit design wise. That being said Ella gets points back for just how cool her design is, with the thigh high boots, being made from what seems to be porcelain or china, and even tossing her bouquet back when she casts a spell. Neat design, but just an odd fit.

6 Celestine

I was going to put Celestine higher, but the more I thought about it there were just details in her design that bug me. First I would change the hair to black with red streaks as opposed to the red with blue we got, to draw back to Carmen’s original design. As well as add more frills and leopard prints. Also change the bunny ears on her hat to cat ears. The third tier persona’s should be an evolution on their original designs and Celestine just goes to far from her roots for my liking.

5. Gorokichi

Gorokichi isn’t higher on this list for one reason. The coat isn’t blue. Each of the phantom thieves have their signature color like they’re power rangers, and my baby nerd mind loves consistency with color pallets. I just want all the pink replaced with an icy blue. But other than that, I love him! He’s fierce, he’s loud, he’s ready to back hand slap you for having the audacity to approach him. He’s just one piece away from perfect.

4. William

Not much to say on William really. He’s just a solid evolution and modernizing of his original form. The more I look at him I just love the little details. The year of his hanging on the hood, the skull and crossbones on his back, and the touches of yellow to add color. Give me his jacket!

3. Raoul

Raoul is lower on this list for weird reasons. Atlus, why is the protagonist’s new persona DLC? I’ve been tolerant with a lot of the bullshit you’ve been pulling, but this is pushing it. But I still love the design. Again, give me his fricken jacket. If someone had told me Michael Jackson would come back to us a demon of rebellion I would have said… sounds about right.

2. Diego

I am thou, does thou lift bro!? Diego manages to build on Zorro in everyway I could want. He’s slick and stylish and I love the Velvet Room blues calling back to Morgana’s origins. Not much more to say, except more of this please.

1.Lucy

She’s beauty, she’s grace, she doesn’t have a face. I know I said the third tier persona’s should evolve from their originals and Lucy does deviate a bit from Milady. But her concept is so great I can’t help it. I’ve already made a whole post dedicated to how much I love this design so I’m just going to rehash what I said there.  Haru’s costume is kind of tricky because there is nothing about it that really implies a trickster, but I think that’s the point. Her persona is Milady de Winter who was a clever espionage agent in the Three Musketeers, and I think therein lies the clue to what Haru sees as a rebel. Haru is not an infiltrator but is rather a planter, in the sense she “plants” herself among the enemy hiding in plain sight. Her costume doesn’t look like a trickster because she doesn’t want anyone to realize she’s a trickster. And her new persona Lucy perfectly shows off this aspect of her. Lucy is designed like an undercover woman, with her trench coat, and head scarf. Adding that Lucy doesn’t have a face, it’s clear she doesn’t want anyone to recognize her as she does her spying. Lucy manages to build on her original form and shows us an underlying aspect of her user and is just fun all around. 10/10 All hail the faceless countess.

Hereward is not on this list, because I was so disinterested in anything to do with Akechi by the end of the game, I didn’t even bother unlocking him my first playthrough. And there isn’t much to say. He’s batman…get it? Because Robin hood was sorta kinda like superman so he turned into the edge lord version of that. But, as I’ve stated previously on this blog, Akechi’s not Batman. He will NEVER be Batman.