#its different but there are very good parts

[agirlinthegalaxy]

Hi! Fellow person with an English degree, along with working for an academic company that has a short college textbook about AI! One of the things that was discussed was hallucinations, which is incorrect information that AI presents as fact. Because the thing is, AI isn't capable of critical thought on its own. It takes in all of this information from the internet, but, as well all know, the Internet isn't inherently a trustworthy source of information and AI isn't capable of actually verifying this information.

One of the ways that we demonstrated this in our textbook is by inputting "Who won the 2022 presidential election?" This was using a previous ChatGPT model, but it actually would answer the question genuinely as if there had been a 2022 presidential election. Another way that I found personally is that I would begin discussing television shows and push it, and without fail, it always began making a lot of errors about obvious plot points and would be unable to keep it straight. Here's an input where I ask for an explanation of the finale of the Charmed (1998) series. (Spoilers for that ahead, but also the show ended nearly twenty years ago, so.)

While a lot of people probably don't know a lot about the show, here's the most relevant part: the entire Ultimate Power section is a complete fabrication because, while they exist, they're distinct characters with a completely different background. (And before anyone says anything, the point isn't about how recognizable the show is, it's about the AI literally makes up false information and presents it as truth when it's very easily disproved.)

Another way of illustrating AI's hallucinations is asking an either/or question, presuming that an event happens. Now, in full transparency, I have not read Dracula since 2021/2022, but I'm about eighty percent sure that this is an example of a hallucination. If not, my apologies, but I'm sure you can find a hallucination if you input it enough similar statements.

Beyond clearly just knowing what is accurate or not, AI also, like the previous OP said, doesn't know what is important. In many classes, when you're discussing some kind of novel, small details will of vital importance whether it about character, plot, or theme of the book. Demonstrated by one of my professors who asked us about the symbolism of the horse that Thomas Sutpen rode into town in the beginning of Absalom, Absalom only to very loudly proclaim that it was between his legs as a phallic symbol, which honestly was probably correct with the author William Faulkner being who he is. Side note, but he was a weird man, and I still don't like his works. If I was a student in that class today, here are the two different shortcuts I could have gotten.

(ChatGPT)

(SparkNotes)

Between the two, even disregarding that SparkNotes' summary is four paragraphs to ChatGPT's three (since the girl in the og Twitter post used three), SparkNotes just provides so much more information and detail. I'd argue that ChatGPT doesn't even summarize it efficiently anyways. So if you're just trying to cheat for class, ChatGPT still isn't a good option.

But I think the worst thing is that the people in the original Twitter convo aren't even reading for class. They're (presumably) reading for enjoyment, which makes it so much more bizarre to me. Because the thing is, and this is a rare one for me to say, you don't... have to read if you don't enjoy it? Once you've left school, very few places (unless you intentionally opt into it or have a very specific job) will make you read novels in your free time. Furthermore, I really can't fathom problems that ChatGPT solves that, say, an audiobook can't? Discussing these two specific instances individually:

If you're wanting to learn more about what Aristotle said in more readable English, baby, he's Aristotle. I can almost guarantee you that there is some kind of book out there, or even something online if you'd like to use the Internet, explaining his philosophy in easier to understand terms. Also with philosophy, I think that "main gist" can be a bit of a trick in of itself because it's designed to make you think critically about these ideas. Sometimes, the "main gist" is even the opposite of what they may seemingly be arguing because they're mocking it.

As for reading a book recommendation by a friend. ... girlie pop, you literally could just not read the book. I've gotten plenty of book recommendations that I've never read and my friends are not insulted at it. If it's a bid for connection, I'd argue that this is more insulting than simply not reading it because if you don't want to invest the time into it, that's fine but this weird shortcut way as if it's beneath your time is... oof. But especially if you want to discuss it, because AI will not include every beat and a lot of a novel is in the way it's written, the pacing or tension, etc. Things that an AI summary can't define out for you to have an actual meaningful conversation. That's something I do when I see a movie that looks halfway interesting but don't care enough to actually sit down and watch it. And even then, I'd never go back to that friend and act like I actually consumed that media; I'd probably just say that it sounds good because I still have not actually truthfully engaged with it!

This is a very long post, but I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about AI, especially in classes, literature, and media in general. Most of them are very negative, but I mean, please don't hand over your critical thinking of what you're consuming to artificial intelligence. Its intelligence is artificial; yours is not.

what is HAPPENING

[annabelle--cane]

i wasn’t here when tma reached the height of its popularity (i only joined last year) so could you describe the Vibes (how bad the drama was, did it feel like there were too many people, etc.)

only if you want to :]

I've said this before, so this may be a familiar spiel to longer term followers, but 2020 tma fandom was honestly not the worst fandom I've ever been in, it was just by far the biggest thing I have ever been actively into at peak popularity and so the 1% of insane people that are found in every fan space were 1% of a much bigger total population. most people were fine and chill, but there were a vocal minority who Weren't.

major ingredients in the discourse pot:

from my observations, tma had a small but devoted listener base for its first few years, then it got a little bump in mid 2018, then a considerable bump in late 2019, then hit proper virality in early 2020, so there were a lot of people with hipster complexes about being Real Fans who were there first and weren't just part of the masses.

at this point I'm not even sure if this part was true, but the above was compounded by the perception that the earlier og listener base were mostly adults and the new wave of fans were mostly tweens and teens. whether the different waves actually fell along those age lines or not, a lot of people felt like the fandom was split into 80% Cringe Zoomers Who Are Here For Ships And Memes and 20% Millennials and Gen X'ers With Media Literacy Who Are Here For Horror. nice dichotomy, idiot, now what lies outside it, etc and such and such. our blessed fandom etiquette vs their barbarous dni lists.

which isn't to say that suddenly having a huge number of people, including young people, become interested in a single piece of media at a time of global stress where everyone had to be much more online and the content of the media itself was at its darkest and most socially relevant had no downsides. oh no. Oh No.

"my headcanon is not only objectively the best headcanon but it actually invalidates all of yours and if you hc something different then it's an act of bigotry against my Correct Headcanon." / "I have drawn up a list of Good Characters you have to like and aren't allowed to criticize and a list of Bad Characters you have to hate and can't acknowledge exist unless it's to make fun of and completely condemn them." / "I saw her username in the kudos of a jonelias fic" "girl what were YOU doing in the kudos of a jonelias fic" / "this latest episode handled a social issue unforgivably badly, I haven't experienced it myself but the vibes were off, everyone demand accountability and boycott the rest of the show" "hey that one was actually based on jonny's personal experiences" "ah fuck not again. well boys let's remember this for next time. this latest epis--"

honestly most of the discourse was down to like two or three friend groups. there was one group of people who you will probably remember if you were there at the time whom I have sometimes seen referred to as the Clown Gang. Clown Gang were ground zero for a good 90% of fan discourse ("hcing melanie as ace is ableist and lesbophobic" "fan content that focuses on jon's asexuality is biphobic. what's pansexuality I've never heard of it." "desolation tim aus are inherently ableist and racist"), but eventually they had a big falling out with Clown Prime and things calmed down. to be very clear I hold no ill will towards any of these people for four year old bad takes, hence why I'm not using any names, but god was it a time.

and this is only about the tumblr side of things. I was barely active of twitter so idk what it was like there but I was on tiktok for about a year during that time and the vibes were wildly different. iirc people there were less confrontational and there wasn't really a callout culture like on tumblr, but the extremes of the takes were FAR worse.

[peaterookie]

I made some designs of the lupgang if they were in the world of kirby, and attempted to draw them in the style of the KSSU's key artwork!

More tidbits about their story and design will be revealed after I show the art

beware it is very long

LUPIN DEE THIRD

Lupin, or Lupin Dee Third as I call this character, is a Key Dee, a class of Waddle Dees you commonly see in KRTDL carrying a key as part of a puzzle. The reason I chose this guy over the typical Waddle Dee is because he has the monki-est design out of all dees, and I find that the fact it holds a key for any gate is pretty fitting for Lupin since he can surpass any challenges, no matter how impossible it seems.

His jacket color can be any of the ones in canon, but I chose green to be the main color he sports since it's a good reflection of the Kirby series. A lot of the locations are taken from nature and the peaceful and joyful themes lends the green jacket fitting very nicely. Red is too much of an aggressive color, while pink and blue don't seem as fitting either. Also, I wanted the jacket to share the same color as the money in the illustration, it's much less work if there's less color...!

Lupin Dee Third is a famous thief that travels across different planets to steal whatever he pleases. Often it is extremely valuable objects belonging to very pretigious or powerful people, which makes him become one of the most wanted criminals in Gamble Galaxy. He stores all of the things he's stolen in a secret place where nobody has found yet.

His combat capabilities is not much to be desired, so he relies heavily on the other members of his team to fight for him. However, he has the special ability to take an ability from another person and use it himself. It is not to the extent of Kirby's ability where he can use it as long as he likes and has full mastery over it, but it comes in the form of short bursts such as pouring a stream of water using the Water ability, or propelling himself into the air for a short moment with the Jet ability. He has an arsenal of these abilities kept in his backpockets at all times, so whenever you think you've cornered him, he always has a last minute surprise for you.

MR. DOOMENSION

Jigen, or Mr. Doomension, is a Waddle Doo with a goofy beard. There wasn't much thought behind my decision to make him a Doo iirc, I saw that it would fit to have him be a species that is a counterpart of Lupin's, since in canon they have pretty similar designs. The one eye makes him more menacing and mysterious anyway so it kinda just works lol

Since I wanted his body to be black, his clothes had to be a different color to appear striking. Thus, I've chosen blue, since its a rightfully common color to use for Jigen, and the accent as orange, the complimentary color for blue. Lastly, the shoes being black and shiny makes him appear much more professional and cool than Lupin, which he totally is.

Mr. Doomension primarily fights with his gun instead of using his eyes to fire his beams. He's always had an affinity to them when he was young, as he claims it allows him to focus and fire more accurate and powerful shots. Though he does load bullets in them, he is able to channel his beams through these guns as well. I'd like to believe that Waddle Doos can channel their beams through other body parts or objects (like Kirby) but choose to use their eyes since it's the biggest part of their body, thus more convenient. Mr. Doomension is built different however.

Much like in canon, he first met Lupin during an attempt to assassinate him for money. In Lupin fashion he ends up befriending the person that tried to kill him and they became close partners in crime, with Jigen always backing him up even in the toughest situations.

COMET RONIN / GOEMON

Goemon Ishikawa's kirby design has multiple names. He is commonly referred to as the Comet Ronin, since a famous story told of him cutting a giant comet into pieces to save a town. His real name is Goemon, but few know this name- or anything about him for that matter. He travels alone from town to town, fully cloaked so no one can see his face, requests food and shelter for the night, and disappears the next day. It was like that for years, until Lupin stole something that caught his eye.

---

ayeee its goemon time. He has two versions of his design because he is that cool.

When first thinking of concepts, I knew I wanted to design him in a way where he is able to resemble one of Kirby's multiple knight characters, but also still be able to look like his friendly and cute manga design. I decided to lean much more into his ninja-ronin-like inspirations, since the kirby series very often likes to be straightforward with their designs. I gave him the straw hat that he wore in Fuma Conspiracy to cover his head, and made his hakama into a cape that he can use to cover the bottom half of his body. The rest are typical japanese stuff. The artwork I drew for his cloaked form tries make him look as imposing and mysterious as possible. You know nothing about him, you have no idea what he is capable of.

---

Lupin recently stole another priced object: The Ryusei, a sword forged by meteorites, an heirloom from a family long forgotten from history. It seems like an ordinary sword at first sight, but if a member from the family wield it, they would unlock the power to cut anything. It ended up being sealed away due to the fear of that power being end up in the wrong hands. Goemon's life mission was to reclaim that sword for his family for the greater good, and now that blasted thief has gotten it!!! From then on Lupin and Doomension were always being chased by the Comet Ronin for reasons completely unknown for them, and eventually the ronin succeeds in taking back that sword, along with taking out the thieves for good... or did he?

The two thieves thankfully survived, but their car did not!! It was sliced in half by the ronin, and now they will be the one coming to him with vengeance. Taking the opportunity to take back the sword while Goemon's guard is down, the two get to see his real face and both sides fight it out, unbridled with anger. Thankfully after pummeling each other with their little nubs, they talk it out and come to an understanding. Goemon gets his sword back and the gang gets some money to repair their car, and they become friends yayyyyy

---

So for Goemon's real form, I decided to have his body purple to match the color of Ninja Kirby from KSSU. His hair is a little nod to Discarded Character-kun (the hairball MP draws), and the eyes are much different than the usual type you see from puffball characters. I wanted him to still appear youthful and cute but have a determined look in his eyes, so I used the eyes that Bronto Burt and Burnin Leo has to better show that.

Also, he is supposed to have white wings with black tipped feather, but I sorta forgot to draw that so I might upload future sketches that go further into little details about their designs, where I'll draw his wings then.

If you read the entire thing- that's fucking wild dude this is so long, but thank you!!! and I hope you enjoyed it!! byebye

[lu-is-not-ok]

Since full stop hong lu has been released, is there anything about his voicelines and such that intrigues you?

Funny you ask about that, because yesterday I was going positively insane over his voicelines! :)

First I'll start with the more 'normal' thing that hit me, before moving on to the 'voice acting autism' parts.

This fucking line. Oh my god. This not only continues Hong Lu's thing with death and its meaning, but I believe it's also a reference to this line from Liwei in Ruina.

And well. Guess what. This is the two in one blog. This is where I make everything about two in one. And Full Stop Hong Lu's line combined with this context? It feels like a Daiyuism to me. Very Flower Burial, musing on the inevitability of death and how in the end it doesn't really matter. Flowers fall. People perish. And neither of them know.

...Okay now we get to the insane parts.

I don't talk about this often, mainly because it's hard to discuss in a text format, but I really, really enjoy picking apart the voice acting in Limbus. Like, not only is it Really Fucking Good, but some of the deliveries genuinely feel so nuanced that I can't help but see if I can dig deeper. And the following bits are thus more about the voice acting behind the lines rather than the text itself. Bear with me here. Tumblr doesn't like .wav files so I'll be linking directly to them in the Organized Assets folder.

First, there's the Afternoon Greeting line.

Note how in the last sentence, Hong Lu's voice has a moment where it wavers. A nervous laugh-like tremble. I don't speak Korean so I can't tell what exact word is being focused on with that moment, but it's notable since I don't believe any other ID has anything like that happen in a random casual voiceline.

I find that tremble interesting because it implies there's some sort of rising emotion behind that. Something about the realization that in reality Hong Lu's wealth means things that are considered expensive to some are really more than affordable to him makes him briefly stumble verbally.

We know that most Hong Lus, to put it bluntly, try their fucking hardest to ignore their reality. So I can't help but wonder if this admission of awareness, this forced lack of ignorance, is what's throwing him off? He can't exactly pretend like what is normal to him is normal to everyone when the chasm between him and others is staring him right in the face.

Ok, now for the thing that's been making me properly lose my mind for the past. Uh. However long this fuckass ID has been out for SFGHHGF.

There is a very, VERY notable difference between Full Stop Hong Lu's voice lines out of combat, and the ones in combat.

Compare his Deployment voiceline (casual, out of combat voice) to his Stage Entry voiceline (in combat voice).

This is, yet again, a voice direction choice exclusive to this ID.

Full Stop Hong Lu's out of combat lines keep the same traits as his voice in most other cases. Higher register, with a notable lilt to his speech. Hong Lu's voice tends to subtly shift at ends of his sentences, usually rising, and there's often a rhythm to how he speaks, causing his voice to have a sort of sing-songy quality to it that adds to his innocent and unaware vibe, as if he's got his head in the clouds.

This changes completely with Full Stop Hong Lu's in combat lines. Not only are they in lower register, said in a much more assertive tone, but the lilt in his voice is completely gone. The delivery for these is comparably monotone, methodical. It makes him sound like a completely different character, doesn't it?

Now, Full Stop Hong Lu isn't the only ID that has a voice line with that kind of delivery shift. Yurodivy Hong Lu's Skill 3 and K Corp Hong Lu's Commencing Attack voice lines are very similar if not the same kind of voice. However, unlike Full Stop Hong Lu's case, this shift is not consistent for those two. Full Stop Hong Lu however sticks to this tone for the entirety of his in combat lines, and I find that fascinating.

Man really just fucking Locks In.

[moonstandardtime]

mostly based on vibes. love putting characters on graphs. elaboration under cut

siffrin — i think this is pretty self-explanatory. least self-aware mf in the room (mostly due to being unaware of everybody else too). their perceived "normal" is very different from everyone else's.

loop — more self-aware than siffrin due to. siffrin. definitely more aware that shit's fucked. but they also for sure have a VERY warped view of "normal okay things to experience" (in a different way than siffrin—siffrin is more "that was a fine thing to experience. [symptoms of ptsd] are just part of life :)👍", while loop is "that was bad but it wasn't THAT bad. i'm just a big crybaby loll")

mirabelle — writes fanfiction and has anxiety meds. next

isabeau — seems like something defenders should know (and by that i mean its relevant so he did more research than strictly necessary) and he's very self-aware. he knows his placement on this graph. he's telling himself it's not a problem and it's working out... alright. has a very solid(ly Not Great) coping strategy of Play Pretend.

odile — she knows what ptsd is conceptually at the very least. and she's coping in a way that works. she knows what she's doing and it's working fine for her. (is it good? ehh debatable. but you can't deny it works.)

bonnie — children are both extremely aware and extremely not self-aware. they know what's normal and what's not but it doesn't really click that bad things result in bad feelings beyond a surface level.

[rebeccathenaturalist]

It has been a few years since I took a botanical illustration class. Since my winter semester is lighter on teaching and other activities than the rest of the year, I had been considering registering for the botanical illustration class through Portland Community College's Community Ed program (who I also teach for!) My partner insisted on paying for it for my Christmas present, so who was I to say no?

This morning was the first class--and we got to draw ferns! Specifically fronds of western sword fern (Polystichum munitum), one of the most common native ferns in the Pacific Northwest. I am a very slow artist, so what you see on the paper is the result of two and a half hours of work, a large portion of it spent just trying to get the individual leaflets right. And of course the shapes of everything changed as the frond began to dry out and distort, so that was an additional challenge. There were a bunch of times where I felt pretty frustrated, but I worked through them, and now that I look at what I drew today I feel much better about it. Sometimes it just takes a little bit of distance to appreciate something better.

I was talking with other students about the difference between examining a plant in detail to try to identify it, and to try to draw it. With the former, I'm attempting to verbally describe what makes this plant different from a similar one, whereas the latter requires me to depict its uniqueness through the lines I draw with my pencil. Even though the sensory input is the same, the parts of my brain that I'm engaging differ, as do the ways in which my brain communicates with my hands. It's been a really good exercise, and I wish I had more time to draw outside of these occasional classes. But I appreciate that I get to have this experience now, over the next few weeks.

[wrenaspun]

hennike and her little duckling smaurent spending time together!

This became more of a Hennike centric fic SORRY but Laurent does make an appearance !! She does spend time with him !! -

Hennike was very newly married when she first fell pregnant. The signs became apparent only a handful of weeks after the ceremony, and the tests that the old physician had her take proved her snooping cousin Julia right, which was galling.

“I told you,” said Julia smugly. “I’m never wrong. Some Women — ” the capitalisation was audible “ — always Know.” She patted Hennike’s cheek. “My mother always said you had the best hips in the family.”

Later, Hennike would look at Auguste and find it impossible that he should have come out of her, that he could be of her blood. Even while he was in her belly he had only really been Aleron’s. Julia insisted on predicting smugly that it would be a boy, because she was carrying so low, and then to a lesser extent he became Vere’s, the hoped-for heir, loved before he was anything more than a cluster of cells.

For a long time, at the start of the pregnancy, Hennike’s stomach felt oddly divorced from the rest of her, a separate compartment for an object which had been misplaced inside her and which its true owner was waiting impatiently to retrieve. Then, as the physicality of pregnancy made itself known, it became impossible to consider any part of her as separate. Her whole body ached and throbbed and grew swollen, and she began to feel like she was the compartment, that the compartment-ness of her stomach had expanded to encompass the rest of her until she was transformed into a vessel for the future of Vere. She ate healthily and slept regular hours because that was good for the baby. She took light exercise for the baby and avoided stress for the baby. Aleron spoke about the baby as though it were here and his wife as though she was somewhere far away. Well, she thought, when she remembered to think, her mother had said this would happen. Her mother had said: for nine months, you will be more than yourself. It was nine months she had to live through. Her mother had had four children, but only three pregnancies; Hennike’s older brothers were twins. She thought more than usual about the fact that twins ran in her family, even after the physician assured her that she was only carrying one.

It was such a relief when the baby came out of her that it was almost like love, right away. Then it really was love — she wasn’t heartless. Auguste was such a sweet, good-natured baby that it was impossible not to adore him. He conquered waves of nursemaids and scores of servants with his gummy, sunshiney smile. Even Aleron was sometimes seen smiling down at him, bouncing him on one hip, letting the royal regalia be drooled on.

Auguste was so ceaselessly healthy that Aleron made only the occasional desultory effort in Hennike’s bed, which suited her just fine. One of her maidservants offered, quietly, to procure an herb that was commonly taken in the south to prevent pregnancies; the king’s brother had recently managed to open a new trade route to Bazal. Hennike brewed the tisane for herself without a pang of guilt.

When Auguste was five, it was thought that a sibling might be a good addition to the royal line; but it never took. The same when Auguste was nine. Hennike quashed the desire to send Julia a stupid letter. The court was vaguely discontented, but Auguste’s boisterous misadventures in the marble halls made sure that never took, either. Hennike peacefully let him smash several old Kemptian vases and the court was cheerful for months about his liveliness.

When Auguste was eleven, it happened again. Hennike, thirty-five, had not seen it coming; neither she nor Aleron had been making much effort; but there you had it. The pregnancy was different because Hennike was different; easier to remain herself, but harder in every other way. She no longer had a young woman’s body: she was sorer, sicker, more swollen. It was another nine months that she had to live through. Auguste was terribly sweet to her, bringing her little pastries that soothed her stomach and fresh-cut fruit that made her sick again.

But it was worth it. Laurent was Hennike’s, entirely Hennike’s from the top of his downy head to the tips of his perfect shell-pink toes. This, she thought, was a baby she had made deliberately, so it made a certain kind of sense that he was less perfect than the older brother she had not played any part in. Laurent was not frail, but he was smaller and more delicate than Auguste had been. He could scream more in one night than sunshine-personified Auguste had in a whole month. His smiles were very rare, only given begrudgingly, and his default expression was a wicked frown which was almost enough to send his poor nurses running. Auguste had been indiscriminately happy with the gifts which had been sent to him by foreign embassies; Laurent developed a particular attachment to a Vaskian horse-toy and spurned the rest, refusing to touch them, sulking savagely if his horse was taken away even briefly, even just to be cleaned. He was so fussy, and Auguste such an indulgent older brother, that after a few months he wouldn’t sleep unless he was walked around for half an hour first in Auguste’s arms.

It was not the done thing, but Hennike loved to hold him in her arms and sleep, the weight of him pressing down into her chest. Aleron did not know what to do with this strange and decidedly opinionated new baby; he was not easy, the way Auguste had been easy. But he had such a martial light in his eyes that from the very beginning, Hennike was sure he would achieve anything he wanted.

[prettyboykatsuki]

oh gosh i agree so much with u on the intercrural part for isagi, had to search for the meaning as well lol

there are also others like him who are very careful (and they also find it so hot and dirty) : karasu, kunigami, sae, and chigiri who at the same time does not want a child

that was so hot thinking abt it ngl pls indulge more on this even if it's just isagi thank you very much

as much as i want the others like nagi, shidou, rin, aiku, etc. to like this, i fear some of them would just simply prefer p in v after minutes of intercrural, cough, aiku , cough, and nagi who become very impatient (and shidou i think does not mind a child lol)

jfjfdsfsdfkjsd i did not know it was such an unknown word it is in tags a lot on ao3 but yes intercrural = thigh fucking

i think there are probably several bluelock men who find it hot for different reasons. the only people i would switch is oliver and sae on these lists jkfsdkj. disregarding the risk of pregnancy in general tho bc i <3 birth control and contraceptives etc

i think oliver is like. a certifiable, tried-and-true FREAK. like in the traditional sexual way, that guy is really loose with sex and he likes to get into some freaky shit. i always say this but he sluts around for the love of the game, so while he definitely wants to be putting his dick somewhere

he can and does get very into thigh fucking because of the like,, teasing element. him and isagi are kind of the same in the sense they both do it so hard and so long - you end up desperately begging them to just fuck you already because of how frustrating it is and just how much they seem to like it.

isagi fucks your thighs less intentionally. he's just trying to get as much sexual contact as he can after his dick feels like it's going to implode. its usually after foreplay - when he's used his mouth for long enough that your thighs and pussy are embarassingly soaked and it feels especially nice for him to fuck through them. does it while laying behind you, very intimate - but very, very intense because he's basically grinding against your pussy. squishing your thighs together so much that that it feels like he's fucking through them. head against your shoulder, panting - precum covering your legs like he's just into It.

but you really, desperately want him to fuck you and he just. keeps saying to give him a little longer.

oliver does this one purpose but he likes doing it from above so he can see his dick reach through the other side when he does it. and he probably does it after fingering you like he's going to fuck you but then not going quite there. he just kind of... holds you. presses against you like you're going to get fucked and then... doesnt it. and it does feel good because he's using that same brutal, rough pace he does when he fucks you. the longer he does it, the wetter and slicker it gets the better it feels. so then, he keeps doing it because it feels good. he thinks its cute also, watching you go back and forth before finally caving bc you want him to Fuck you.

i think sae in general prefers giving u the most stimulation as much as he can if he's gonna have sex. he can be teasing if he wants to be, but overall - he likes to sitmulate you again and again and again and mess with your head that way. but he does all that so ultimately you'll be so wet it feels like you don't resist his cock at all. doubly bc i think his dick is Big.

this is too long to be talking about thighfucking. but ye dsjsdjk

[wukyma]

Oh you answered my question ♡ thank u, you fed us so much with all this lore !

First of all, the new poseidon illustration is now my new phone wallpaper, omg his pretty big face with the voluptuous hair .

Second of all, pretty please continue even without pictures ! I'm so interested in your Au! (Ur so right about the not-excuses of Odysseus, I would want Vengeance tho after this bad self-centered justification)

Love the poli/peri/emperor friendship, it's not the first time I see this headcanon and it's such a good idea actually (of course SweetBoyPoli is friend with everyone but the impeccable flavor of a friendship between opposites is still very cool/ complementary) !

But but if I can ask for pictures i would die to see 👀 the moment where they conclude the deal ?

(Also the HAND almost ON Polites FACE??? I have stated at that one for definitely too long. Oh god. Please, its kinda make me feral. )

💫Tatooed Polities ?💫 I must see him with the trident tattoo one day... OR even better : eurylochus/ody reaction to it! Because They know him for almost forever now, so the devastating realitie must be so hard on them (having a deal with a strong and violent god such as the earthshaker and all the implications, ohh good Angst!)

Okay, tell me I read that right too, Poli becoming ✨️friend ✨️ with Circe ?? Fuck your brain is big. Gotta think about the events on circe island with your Polities, that change everything for the better. Of course they can't fight so that rule out Ody and the Moly but maybe Hermes's still here anyway ? Like the little mischievous god he is...

So I have to ask, is Poseidon gonna spy on the fleet -especially Poli since he's beefing with him- ? I kinda have this picture of water spirits reporting to the god every steps ? Tell me if I'm in the wrong ~

(I'm SO ready for mockery tho 🧨 )

Honestly I'm really invested here so every choice is good ♡ would appreciate to read more anyway

(Not very good at detective sorry but hoping someone else will find it!)

FIRST OF ALL receive my massive thanks for writing such a detailed comment on my AU!! These guys are very dear to me, and it makes me extremely happy when someone matches my freak has the same vision <33

And you made it your wallpaper?? I'll bawl fr. Sadlyy i didn't really think through the moment where they concluded the deal, but have an interpretation! (Watch as i struggle drawing without any references except my own face)

The tattoo situation is interesting too because its purpose isn't only to seal the deal ;D hoping that I'll be able to show how that works in the next part— and yes, you're right about Circe; I don't care that it's basically a spoiler because they are just besties material 🫶✨️ can definitely promise a glimpse of Hermes!!

I didn't think of Poseidon using spies, but that's kinda adorable and I'll draw it anyway hehe,, something something water winions lore

(The bottom two are both from water but different species/habitats ig? Whatever, I didn't think too much about it)

[theeio]

ToA Sketchbook PDF interest update:

Yep I'm locking in - lets do this.

Link to the original post / interest poll - There's still some days left to vote for how much you'd be willing to pay for the Sketchbook PDFs, but I settled on some things:

I'll be publishing the Sketchbook PDF on itch.io

I'll be splitting the sketchbook into different parts, in chronological order. This keeps it more accessible price-wise, and I'll still have an option for the full collection!

I do know that some folks wanted the PDFs to be arranged according to subject, so I could summarise the contents and summary of the art/subjects to expect in each PDF, so you know what you'll be getting.

I'm planning on giving each PDF a unique cover! If the scanning/cleanup process doesn't kill me, I'd love to do some exclusive artwork for this project as a thanks for the support and interest if you were to buy one of these!

If my health allows, I may even consider inserting some new sketches into each PDF 👀

As for updates: I have already done a quick mockup of a PDF, testing the quality, scanning, formatting and exporting process and I think I have a rough idea of the workflow! I'm going to be starting the scanning today, which is going to be a huge undertaking, wish me luck T-T ! I'm guessing that and cleanup may take the longest, and the timeline is unknown rn but I'll give as many frequent updates on this as I can.

And now for a very important question:

Would you like something more polished in this sketchbook PDF (stuff I already posted + "nicer" unseen sketches) ? or would you like me to also include the more raw, incomplete, and bad drawings too? When I say it's almost every art of ToA I did, I really do mean it.

Why I'm considering sharing the more raw stuff is because I feel like there is a lot of misconceptions/insecurities around the quality of a sketchbook, and the pressure of an individual to make every drawing-even in their own personal sketchbook-perfect. I thought I could include the good, the bad and especially the ugly to hopefully break that stereotype of every drawing needing to be perfect, and to show the very real process behind my art.

And why I'm also considering against that is because YOU guys are the ones paying for this PDF, and you may want to have something of more quality XD !!

I don't think I've seen many artists go for the TRULY vulnerable/raw/scrappy route in the sketchbook PDFs I've seen and bought, so its important that I throw this out there to see how y'all are feeling about this. So:

please only vote either the first two if you are planning on purchasing these, thank you!!

[nostalgebraist]

Thanks for this thoughtful review!

(BTW, for others – this is probably obvious but there are spoilers below the readmore, don't click unless you've read the book)

I'm going to use this as an opportunity to talk about one specific thing that bugs me about some reader reactions to my stuff. Therefore, most of what I say below will be negative (about your review), but I want to emphasize first that that's not a reflection of what I thought of it overall.

----

What I'm here now to talk about is this kind of thing:

There are parts of all his books, where I really think that the explanation for why they are the way they are is that they are "bad on purpose", and all the bullshit [note: in context "bullshit" seems to be meant as a neutral term for non-realist elements -nost] is a way of turning these shortcomings into strengths. The self-effacing voice which whispers that the characters aren't sufficiently well-drawn, are too cartoonish—well, what if that was the point? What if there was a reason for that, in the story?

And like... okay, there is sort of a sense in which this is true, sometimes, kinda. There is a grain of truth to this; it is getting at something real.

But it pains me to say that, because I don't want to encourage this kind of reading. Interpretations like this are occasionally correct but IMO they're much more common than they should be. IMO the right intuition is that this is a galaxy-brained, contrarian sort of take, a last resort you land on when you've ruled out everything else.

And not just with my work, with everything – I'm simply more aware of the problem when it comes to my work, because I wrote it and I'm aware of why I actually did things the way I did.

I've said this before, but watching the way that people react to my own fiction has been an eye-opening experience, one that has taught me things about reader (and viewer, etc.) reactions in general. Specifically, what I've learned was:

People's tastes are way more diverse than I had realized (before I started writing and sharing fiction). And they are diverse in a very fine-grained way; even if two readers have the same preferences about 90% of stuff, or 95%, they'll still diverge on some things. While it's not literally true that "every reader is a unique snowflake with a preference set that no one else shares," that is a very good first approximation of how things are.

Readers (including me!) have been trained by a lifetime of reading book/movie/etc. reviews to frame their preferences/reactions in a pseudo-objective "this is just how it is" way, like their own tastes have some special viewpoint-independent priority, a quality of "reality" or "accuracy" lacking in everyone else's tastes (which are all different, cf. 1). And this is not just a stylistic quirk of the way people write about fiction, it actually (IMO) feeds back into the underlying opinions behind the written commentary. It degrades people's ability to understand what it is they're looking at and their ability to make accurate inferences about the process of its creation.

----

Here's a sort of cartoonish schematic of the type of experience that led me to draw these conclusions. (And I suspect this is not just a thing that happens to me, I imagine it happens with any sort of work that "contains a lot of different types of stuff" the way mine does.)

Writer makes something that has X and Y and Z in it. Writer thinks X/Y/Z are "great tastes that taste great together." Writer is very pleased with the result.

Reader 1 has similar tastes to writer, says something brief about how they loved the book and it's a new favorite for them.

Reader 2 loves X, is OK with Y, hates Z. They write a lengthy review saying that the book was a mixed bag and could have been great if the writer had stuck to X and not messed things up by doing so much Z.

Reader 3 is the reverse of their predecessor: they hate X, are OK with Y, love Z. They write a lengthy review saying that the book was a mixed bag and could have been great if the writer had stuck to Z and not messed things up by doing so much X.

Reader 4 loves X and Z – but they hate Y. They write a lengthy… you can fill in the rest. Imagine a whole bunch of these guys (readers 5, 6, etc).

Reader 17 has the same tastes as Reader 2: loves X, is OK with Y, hates Z. But their lengthy review takes a different, in some sense "more charitable" angle, speculating that the inclusion of Z was a load-bearing pillar in the overall structure, a thing that unfortunately had to be included to "unlock" all that sweet sweet X.

Reader 18 has the same tastes as Reader 3: hates X, is OK with Y, loves Z. But, they explain, X was a load-bearing pillar in the overall structure, a thing that unfortunately had to be included to "unlock" all that sweet sweet Z.

Writer reads all these reviews and feels strange, dizzy. The "nicer" reviews like 17 and 18 are actually more uncomfortable to read than the "meaner" ones like 2 and 3.

"I don't know how to convince you guys," Writer thinks, "but I... I just liked all of it? I thought it was good? That was why I wrote it? (Why else would I have written it?)"

----

Or, as I wrote in that previously linked post from 2021, w/r/t TNC specifically (and making a slightly different but closely related point):

Some people say X was the worst part of TNC, some people say X was the best part. The story was a celebration of Y; the story was about how Y is laughably futile. It’s a letdown that we were never told more about Z; the reason TNC is good is that it leaves stuff like Z to the imagination. It was obvious we were meant to believe P; it is obvious we were meant to believe not-P; the ambiguity about whether P is tiresome literary masturbation; at least the story didn’t jump the shark by spelling out whether P! The reason people like TNC is, of course, that it has A, although nostalgebraist insisted on putting B in there too because he hasn’t fully perfected his formula yet / he somehow thinks B is good even though it isn’t / he thinks it’s funny how bad B is (but the joke tires). …and then someone else has same take, but with A and B flipped.

This exact sort of thing is of course happening again before our eyes with reactions to TAoHS.

I've encountered multiple readers who disliked most of the story but felt the ending (sort of) "redeemed it," and I've also encountered multiple readers who liked the story up until the ending but disliked the ending (or at least thought it was worse than the rest) – to say nothing of the many readers who liked (or disliked) the whole thing all the way through.

And this ending-related stuff is just one particularly obvious facet of a broader diversity in the overall reader response.

By now I know not to be surprised by this stuff, and even to find it kind of fun to watch... but I have to admit, it is still a dizzying and uncomfortable experience.

----

Now, as I said, it is sometimes true that things really are "bad on purpose."

But I think the interpreter's default hypothesis – which should be maintained by default unless convincing evidence against it can be brought forth – should be:

The writer thinks that the thing they wrote is good. They think the ideas are good and they think they executed them well. And they think this more-or-less homogeneously for everything in the work – there are no "bad but unfortunately necessary" parts from the writer's POV.

(At least, this should be the default with works that aren't making the writer much/any money. Obviously things are different with lucrative commercial fiction; there are plenty of well-paid hacks who know they're hacks and do it for the money, etc.)

Why should this be the default? Multiple reasons.

First: it takes a lot of effort to produce any sort of creative work. The writer thought that effort was worthwhile, for some reason – why?

The most straightforward explanation (and a very common one IMO) is that the writer simply believed in the thing that they were making. They believed the effort was worthwhile because it would yield a good product.

Second: as a writer you have an immense amount of freedom. It's difficult to overstate the extent of it. You are playing God, you decide the way that literally everything will be.

Obviously there are some constraints, cases where one part of a story will imply the existence of another or whatever.

But it's very rare that you actually get forced into "doing a thing you know you are bad at, badly." After all: why do that? No one's forcing you! Just do something else! You're God, you control everything!

(Note that this applies also to the very act of writing anything. No one is forcing you to write at all. If you can't come up with good ideas, nothing prevents you from just not writing your bad ones.)

Third: at least in my experience, "playing God" in this way requires a certain state of mind, a certain boldness and self-assurance, which is incompatible with thinking "yeah this is gonna suck but I have to do it" – but is very compatible with thinking "I am making something excellent and every part of it is excellent, hell yes."

Fourth: because of the previously noted diversity of reader preferences, it should not be surprising to any given reader that they find some parts of the work much better than others, even if the writer thought it was all excellent.

This outcome is predictable from the X/Y/Z stuff I talked about above. No clever interpretive work is required to explain it; it arrives pre-explained; it's simply what happens by default.

And finally: because, as I noted above, I think all of us are infected with "reviewer brainworms" and we need to be mindful of this fact.

(Just to be clear, I am not accusing OP of being more infected with said brainworms than anyone else; I'm still on my soapbox, giving a generic rant about a general issue, with OP as merely a jumping-off point.)

We've grown accustomed to the casual conflation between our own tastes and some (usually hazily imagined and under-theorized) sort of "objective, ideal artistic standards."

Outside of a few edge-case eccentrics who can be ignored for my present purposes, we do not do this because we've become intellectually convinced that

(a) such objective standards make sense and really "exist" or at least really matter and

(b) they just so happen to match our own preferences.

Rather, we've fallen into this habit because it's what the pros do: there's a standard style that professional critics and reviewers write in these days, and that style implies these stances. And if one writes (and thinks, in one's inner monologue) in this style, one can easily fall over backwards into uncritically believing (a) and (b) for no better reason than "I seem to already be talking as though I believe these things, hence it would be simple and convenient if I really did believe them."

But – even if we bracket the philosophical questions of whether (a) is in fact true, and (if it is) whose tastes in particular ought to be elevated in the way (b) presumes – even if we table all that for another day, still we ought to keep in mind how weird and audacious a move this is, this simultaneous assertion-without-explanation of the (a)+(b) pair.

We've gotten used to it by exposure, because "the pros" have normalized it. But in actual fact it is a pretty wild thing to just go and assume, given the X/Y/Z/etc. diversity of actual opinion!

If (b) is true for you (general "you" not OP), then it can't be true for me, because we're both unique snowflakes to a first approximation; indeed if (b) is true for you then (to a first approx.) it is only true for you. No one else's tastes have this magical relation to reality, just yours.

Holding the belief (b) about a given reviewer is conceivable-but-wild if we're only considering them in isolation. But once we bring a 2nd reviewer (with non-identical tastes) into the picture, who also believes (b), it's literally impossible to maintain that both of these people are fully right.

And then of course in real life there are not 2 but many, many readers out there, all of them unique snowflakes. And, while it is socially normal in our social context for each one of them to write like they're the chosen one blessed with that special (b)-magic, if you read enough such writing and actually think about what you're reading, it can't help but feel like a sort of game, like playing make-believe. As with most games, it can be very entertaining (for all parties involved), but we shouldn't confuse its amusing conceits for properties of the real world.

In the real world, the writer has their tastes, and you have yours. These tastes are probably not identical. The writer may be aware of the diversity of readerly tastes, and may thus be aware that tastes like yours are out there, but they have no special reason to consider you in particular, elevating you above all the other readers who are non-identical with them (and with you). The writer is dimly and abstractly aware of you, at best, as just another one of the people who will come along later, dislike some of their choices, assume that these choices were wrong in some "objective" way the writer knew about at the time, and then speculate as to why the writer would do something they know is wrong. For every choice, and every way of making every choice, one can imagine a reviewer who responds to it in this way, and quite often these reviewers actually materialize once the work is available for consumption. If you try to reason about these guys in advance, as a writer, it'll stop you in your tracks (if nothing else because there are 2+ of them whose takes are mutually incompatible). You've gotta have some other standard of value to rely on.

So, as a reviewer, if you ask "why would someone ever make a choice I don't like?" and try to pick at this question, you are quite likely heading toward a dead end. The writer wasn't thinking about you (or people like you). They were applying their own, distinct standard of value.

Better to ask: "suppose there was a person who actually liked all of this. What would they be like? How would they be similar to me / different from me? And what, if anything, can I conclude from that?"

The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen

My fourth novel, The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen, is now available in full.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

[bananonbinary]

rewatching dead end paranormal park, and its good, but it always gives me whiplash how....sanded down it is from deadendia.

not in like a bad way, the characters are in many ways more fleshed out (notably courtney, logs, and bahdya are far more compelling in the show than the comic imo). but it's VERY jarring the ways the universe has been simplified (eg, "angels" and "demons" fit far more into the traditional moral framework, albeit a subverted one) and the darker elements have been removed (eg, no one dies, not even temeluchus).

the part that really gets me is barney though. deadendia!barney has cut ties with his family completely, and they are overtly transphobic. things like "they raised my rent when i told them how much hormones would cost" and "they put up missing posters for their 'daughter' that ran away."

every time barney's transness comes up in the show, it feels very...uh. let's say cis's first trans story? very child friendly, very positive, very unproblematic. comic!barney has a visible chest, and self-harm scars, and wears his binder too long. none of that survives into the cartoon, where he mostly seems to be pretty mentally well-adjusted and tentatively gets along with his parents. i don't think he ever gets overtly misgendered.

and like, none of this is a bad thing, they have different target audiences, and i understand that the heavier themes in the comic would be really hard to depict in a netflix cartoon. there's also the fact that the comic was simply written in a slightly older time and is slightly less applicable now (eg, barney not being allowed on the school wrestling team in the comic, vs there clearly being co-ed wrestling in the show). but still. it's bizarre to run up against.

[pearlofthewoods]

Spuffy band-fic ramblings (long-post)

I think about this scene so frequently because…"Well, I sing.” 

Yes, of course he does. That man was a poet, he could write such gorgeous lyrics, and no one can tell me Spike wasn’t an active part of the rock scene in the 70s.

Honestly, a whole Spuffy band fic has been marinating in my brain for like a good 6 months now, (like seriously, it even has its own playlist, that’s when u know it’s getting real)… but since I’m only a baby writer I wanna get some writing practise in before I embark on the project, so that I can do it justice. 

However as I literally cannot keep these thoughts to myself, allow me to invite you into my brain for a while. 

(Be warned I'm basically spoiling half the plot of a future fic under the cut so scroll away if u only wanna read it when, or if, it gets written.)

So in my fic idea, there’s a huge underground vampire music scene (particularly in LA), since because vampires are immortal, they’ve lived through so many different eras of music that they have a really deep understanding of music history. They’ve seen so many famous bands live etc (which obviously is one of the few human experiences open to vampires, since so many gigs take place at night and are tied to nightlife culture). 

I’d also say that since vampires have no need to work, if they can get their hands on instruments they'd have plenty of time to practise/dedicate themselves to the craft. 

One head-canon that I have comes from the idea that Billy Idol “stole Spike’s look” from him. What if he stole something else too?

Bear with me here. 

Vampires don’t age, so they could never risk becoming famous in the human world, since people would very quickly notice that they weren’t human. Vampires need to keep a relatively low profile. They also can’t really make money easily from music by playing for other vamps, cause it’s quite unlikely the vampire scene has much money flowing around. Why would it? Everyone can just steal/mug to get what they need.

So in the vampire music world, they’d mostly just be playing for each other to stave off the boredom of eternal life, but with no worries about finances or putting food on the table. 

And dear God that music would be experimental, with none of the usual restraints of human life.

Like I think their music would be very interesting/ outside the mainstream. Perhaps they’d play stuff from entirely different decades which had completely gone out of style, but not amongst vampires who never aged/got uncool (unlike the humans who played it)….

Vampires would also have so many different first-hand musical influences that they’d create the most weird and wonderful sounds. Think Spike’s Victorian musical upbringing mixed with jazz mixed with rock, mixed with… well, you get the picture.

And tbh I think some people would try and capitalise on that, on that raw vitality. Perhaps there’s a demon who records demos secretly in the crowd or steals entire songs and sends them to someone in the know in the music industry. And since vampires don’t exactly have passports, social security numbers or any real documented presence at all, there’s nothing they can do about it. Like what if, in this fictional world, Billy Idol didn’t just steal Spike’s look, but his music too? Frankly, it'd explain the resentment.

Anyway, in my head Spike hasn’t played music for a while, he took a break to look after Drusilla and then got wrapped up in the scoobies and their shenanigans. 

But after Buffy dies? He needs somewhere to put all those emotions. He needs to write goddamn it, he hasn’t felt heartbreak like this for a long, long time. He’s not used to death, he doesn’t know how to deal with it. No vampire does.

So when he’s drinking away the pain in Willy’s one night, some demons he used to know are down from LA and offer him an open spot to sing with them at a new demon club. Spike’s about to turn it down, but they tell him things have changed. Like Wolfram and Hart, demons are all in business now, and this new club will pay.

Spike doesn’t need money… but Dawn does. Tara and Willow won’t tell him anything, (they don’t want to be put in the moral position of whether to accept mugging-proceeds from Spike), but he knows that finances are tight. And this is something he can do for Dawn, and in a way… for Buffy.

So Spike joins a band!

I think he’s probably pretty famous from his past in the 70s vamp rock scene, but this time he wants to change up the music genre. He wants a fresh start. It’s the nineties goddamn it, and he’s certainly not the same vampire he was twenty years ago. He’ll play, but he’ll play on his terms. 

I imagine his newer music to basically be Jeff Buckley’s (my fave 90s musician), which I know might seem a bit melancholy for Spike, but with his current grief, it feels quite appropriate.

Tbh since I basically know nothing about music and can’t even imagine lyrics for toffee, I'd probably even just give him Jeff’s discography and call it a day. It’s fanfic I can do what I like. Grace? Spike wrote it. Job done. 

For example, the lyrics to “Opened Once”?

"In the half-light where we both stand

In the half-light you saw me as I am

I am a railroad track abandoned

With the sunset forgetting I ever happened

That I ever happened"

Half-light = the twilight, the safest time of day for vampires (to quote Edward Cullen, sorry lol). also a metaphor for the place between the vamp world and the human world. A place where Buffy and Spike "both stand", as she’s the slayer and he’s a vampire that can’t hurt people.

‘You saw me as I am’ - After Buffy's resurrection, Spike’s the only person who truly understands what she’s been through, and the experience of crawling out of your own grave. They meet each other where they are.

‘Railroad track’ - ‘railroad spike’. Railroad is a pretty unusual and archaic way of phrasing that word. At least where I’m from. ‘Railroad spike’ is too good of a coincidence. 

‘Sunset forgetting I ever happened’ - Spike doesn’t get to live in the daylight. the sun (and the sunset) are both out of reach for him without the danger of dusting. He doesn’t fully feel like a true vampire anymore, but the human world won’t accept him either. In fact, his human life was so long ago that even the sun itself has forgotten William Pratt.

I also think Spike/ Jeff Buckley is a fitting parallel  since, if I stick to major-canon events, Jeff’s unfortunate passing very early in his career would also fit roughly timewise with Spike’s death at the end of season 7. 

The last unfinished album that Jeff struggled so hard to write? The one Spike wrote when he was getting over his ensoulment and entirely reevaluating who he is, and what that means for his music.

Unfinished final album? Yes. Unpublished? No. 

Because when he accepted wearing that amulet, Spike had a pretty good idea he was going to die. So he did something a vampire never plans to do. He wrote a will. 

If he’s dead, there’s no more worries about fame exposing his immortality right? So his music is published posthumously in the human world (with some bullshit about his talent going undiscovered by the industry during life).

And combined, the proceeds pay for Dawn’s college bills, and lift all of Buffy’s financial worries from her shoulders. 

In the end, that’s Spike’s last gift to Buffy, his music, his poetry…and it finally allows her to rest. 

[etherembers]

Sevika x fem Heartburn

omg hii first post on here, nsfw post so minors dni, praise kink, cunnilingus, pet names, slvt used, no y/n used.. begrudging enemies to lovers (I fuckinf love this trope not sorry,,)

This one’s a long one so brace yourself girlies <3

Requests open!

__________________________________________

You had found your way at The Last Drop, as per Silco’s demand. He was abroad, yet he requested you look after Sevika, even despite your protests and nags that she was grown and more than capable of taking care of herself. He simply said he was worried about her and her alcohol habit; as it was a particularly stressful time for her, for reasons he didn’t disclose. You showed the guards your ID, pushing the doors open as you wandered in. There she was.

Sevika sat, her dark lips slightly ajar as she held her cards to her chest, deep in calculating thought. A cigarette sat befittingly between her gaped lips, plumes of smoke billowing from its lit bud, forming around her face. She sucked her teeth, making her next move, her metal arm creaking with effort as she moved forward. The muscles in her waist flexed with force, an almost imperceptible exhale of air leaving her parted lips.

The smell of whiskey and cheap alcohol filled the air, as well as the scent of old cards and cigar smoke. Her thoughts were on anything but her mission tomorrow; taking swigs of some putrid, fermented smelling alcohol from her canteen. She wiped a slick of snot with the back of her hand, dealing cards for another round with a flourish. It served her no good, sitting at a table with men she considered to be below her, in a place where she never saw any of the faces inside— outside, of it. You happened to be sitting at a table adjacent to her, simply observing her in her element.

She threw a handful of dice on the table, taking an instinctive swig from her canteen, almost to soothe her growing anticipation. The alcohol burned pleasantly down her throat, her big fingers clasping around the lid. She almost closed it, but stopped. She made her move, her brow raising imperceptibly as she worked effortlessly; strategically, to weigh her odds. She jingled the metallic dice melodically in her palm, throwing them on the table with calculated ease.

“Do none of you actually know how to play this game?” She said, in a deep, mocking tone, smirking as she took a puff from her cigar, sitting back in the booth. She smirked egotistically as the men at her seat cursed under their breath, pausing her amused expression to gaze down at her now empty canteen. When the men decided to take a break, recuperating their losses, she sauntered over to the bar, putting the canteen that reeked of booze on the counter.

“Could you fill me up, Theriam?” She asked, more like a demand. Her words were sluggish and drunken, her right hand moving to finger her thigh, pulling a couple of silver coins out. She unfurled her palm, the coins unsticking from her sweaty palm at different paces. She didn’t bother to count, only watched patiently and eagerly as her container was filled with ‘the good stuff’ as she calls it. She took a deep breath from her cigarette.

Her eyebrows lifted pleasantly as her grey eyes lit up, the bartender slammimg the full canteen on the counter. She slumped off of the seat, wandering back to her chair. She was a couple of hours in and another canteen deep when she didn’t seem to notice the footsteps approaching her booth, the men’s energy at the table dissipating for a moment. She gave a weak gaze upward, her eyes trailing up your body, her realizing eyes shifting away as she took a puff of her cigarette. The very sight of you was sobering, as she put her cigarette out.

“And I had just, just forgotten that I had a meeting tomorrow.” She said, almost missing the person she was before you had walked in the room.

“I was initially going to sit and have a drink with you, but it seems like you’ve had enough of.. Drinking. You look like a violent drunk.” The guys at her table oohed and ahhed at your comment, indirectly fueling your ego. You eyeball her hunched over demeanor, nostrils burning from the smell of alcohol. The alcohol only served to exacerbate her now serious, almost primal expression. “No, I’m not interested in a hooker. He might be though,” She chuckled, nudging the guy to her far left with her mechanical elbow.

Her tactless joke was met with a look of irritation, your jaw tightening. Despite her joke she sat up, her shoulder tightening as she gave a serious expression. “You don’t get to decide that.” She said, shaking her head. She seemed to tighten her act up around you though, despite her dumb joke, and you’re unsure to be insulted at her suddenly not having fun now that you’re there, or to admire how quickly she was able to gather herself professionally, if a little bit.

“What do you want? Besides to insult me.” She said, flexing her mechanical arm as she listens to the familiar hum and hiss as it whirred, putting her metal hand on the worn couch below her. She lit a cigarette almost as quickly as she put the other one out, flicking her lighter open with a calculatingly fluid movement. “I never insulted you.” You said, folding your arms with a look of disbelief on your expression. “But you’ve obviously had enough to drink.”

Sevika coughed, her eyes widening for a moment before her face darkened into a slight scowl, closing her eyes to gather herself for a second. “What’s so wrong about me letting loose before a tedious meeting? You sound like Silco.” She scoffed, a grin of disbelief on her face as she took a relaxed puff from her cigarette. Her leisure and casual comparison served to make your blood boil. It wasn’t just some lackey meeting; they were going to meet with the chem barons, and other influential Zaun figures who were interested in investing their shares into shimmer. You blinked hard, Sevika’s relaxed state driving you mad.

“I won’t take personal offense by that, I know how drunk you are.” You said, leaning against the curved wall that served to offer the gambling group some privacy and seclusion from the bar. She looked up at you with an unfamiliar gaze. One that threatened to wander lower, her expression hardening.

“What do you want from me?” She said finally, her eyes shifting away again. Her comment surprised you, almost as much as it pissed you off. You shifted your weight to your other foot, your shoulders instinctively moving up as though to shield yourself from the men talking amongst themselves in front of you. You leaned down to Sevika, your gaze low.

“I want you to stop drinking that foul smelling alcohol and get your shit together.” You said, your assertiveness almost making Sevika choke on the swig she’d taken from her canteen. You and Sevika never really ‘got along’ so to speak, only doing Silco’s dirty work and cleaning up Jinx’s messes when prompted to do so. A couple of henchwomen bound together simply by the same purpose; to serve Silco. You worked your butts off some nights together, only exchanging very minimal grunts of ‘thank yous’ and unspoken nods of affirmation from Sevika when you genuinely tried to talk to her. This was your first, real conversation outside of work matters, and it was like you were an afterthought to Sevika. Her calculating grin and stupidly lax, drunken state served to irritate you further. Without trying, Sevika had gotten under your skin with her reckless gambling habit and disgusting alcoholism suddenly.

Before you realized it, you had gone into deep thought about Sevika, your expression undermining just how pissed about it you were. The audacity Sevika had to pretend like you haven’t spent days out on the field delivering messages and goods for Silco together made your teeth grit, your jaw surging with anger. When Sevika had reached her arm up to take a sip of her drink as second nature, it was like time slowed. Before you knew it, your body acted out of its own nature, jerking and smacking the canteen out of Sevika’s hand, the bottle flying up as it spilled its content across the men, each of them flinching and clamoring with an upset groan.

The bar went silent with collective looks of shock, the container colliding with the ground as it rolled away. Sevika pounded a clenched fist into the table, standing up as her gaze snapped to you. You looked just as shocked for what happened, when it was quickly replaced with a feeling of confidence, a wry but small smirk playing at your lips as you observed her serious expression. She stepped to you, but you were distracted. Something about hearing the bottle hit the floor was oh so satisfying.

“What’s the fucking matter with you? Waltzing in here like you know me, watching me from the sidelines, before demanding I sober up?” She said, her tone gruff and serious as she clenched her jaw. “You think I didn’t notice you lurking?” She growled, her breath reeking of alcohol as a burp burns up her throat, dissipating it at the side of her mouth.

You were shocked that she was even sober enough to perceive you across the room, let alone among the crowd. “—So don’t act all buddy buddy with me. We aren’t close enough for that.” She said, pinning your shoulder to the wall with a primal edge that made your spine shudder. You simply returned her gaze with a scoff, your arms still folded protectively over your chest, your head tilting slightly. She unpinned you, walking to the dumped canteen with a drunken stupor, picking it up. As she did, she made deep eye contact with you, the world pausing for a moment as she stared at you with that intensity, like she was sizing you up as prey or a predator.

You caught her with the same gaze a few times before, her eyes quickly shifting away just as quickly as they’d been on you. Your head shook with the implications, watching her slump back down in her seat with a renewed fervor. The men exchanged glances from you to themselves, one of them shifting in his chair. Sevika returned to the game, not acknowledging you directly but stealing a few glances while your head was turned.

“You.” Sevika said, in a tone that was almost as sharp as a blade. You whip around at breakneck speeds; entirely certain she was referring to you. You looked at her with an expression full of questions, before she slammed the empty jug on the table in front of you. “Fill that up for me, miss-pretty-face.” She said in a betrayingly sultry tone, never bothering to exchange a glance with you. “Then I’ll forgive you for making a fool of me in front of these morons.”

She said it so casually, so painfully smoothly as her words echoed inside of your head, your mind swirling with disbelief. How dare she demand that of you, in front of her group of half-human looking men, treating you like a pretty servant she paid good money for. Your body trembled with rage you have only gotten close to a handful of times before, your nostrils flaring as your body demands you say something. But you get an idea, and your balled fist falls flat to your side. You take the canteen begrudgingly, starting off on your heels. You sit at the counter, the bartender raising his eyebrows as he acknowledges your presence.

You ask him to fill it with water, his unsure expression narrowed onto the canteen, knowing who it belonged to. You slammed a gold coin onto the counter with a pretty smile. He made sure to fill it up with sink water, your gaze piercing his soul. You take the heavy canteen, walking to Sevika’s corner. That’s when you hear her say “Good girl,” like she was waiting for you to be just within earshot to say that. You popped the lid open, dumping it on Sevika’s head. The men were astounded, but more so scared, at how Sevika would react, quietly observing you and her back and forth like watching a telenovela unfold before their eyes. Without warning your hands surge to grasp the dusty red poncho draped across Sevika’s chest, bringing her soaked and pissed face to yours.

“Silco is going to be real upset with us both if he finds you passed out on the stairs leading up to his office if you don’t get your shit together. He sent me here to check on your dumb drinking habit, to see if it would get out of control. That theory checks our, at least.” She wiped the water from her face and head with the dry bit of her poncho, spatting drips of water from her lips out and onto your face. She dropped the fist she poised up at you instinctually. The very mention of Silco sending someone unknowingly to check in on her made her expression pale, if for a second.

“Fine.” She said, her jaw almost grinding with irritation. She knew if Silco found out about her habits she would be forced to take an easy job sorting files and dealing with drab paperwork until her alcohol addiction got better; something she dreaded more than Silco finding out she’d been overdoing it altogether. Doing something repetitive and boring that required minimal physical effort made her spine tingle, especially because she’d be left with space to think. That’s the last thing she needs right now. Her eyes wandered dangerously low for a brief moment as you loosened your grip on her poncho, her figure settling into the couch.

She sat up, wringing her poncho out as she collected her debts. She looked at you with.. Admiration? Respect? Tolerance? The word escaped you. But it wasn’t just brute anger or indifference, for once. Maybe she understood that the cause for your delinquency was one neither you nor her could control; Silco. There was an unspoken understanding between you two that she was at your mercy; maybe not yours, but Silco’s mercy through you. She brushed past you, standing almost like she was awaiting something.

“I hope he wasn’t gonna make you watch me while I sleep.” She scoffed, taking a fresh cigar out of her pocket and lighting it, irritated that it got so wet it couldn’t light anymore.

“Now that you mention it, I think I will. Can’t have you risk suffocating in your sleep, now can I?” You teased, the cigar hanging limp between her dark, chapped lips. She considered your words for a moment, her eyebrow twitching. She started off. When she noticed you weren’t following, she looked behind, her thumbs nestled gently beneath the waistband of her belt.

“You comin’? I don’t have all night.” So you followed, a sigh escaping your lips. Of course you followed. She stumbled up the steps leading to her bedroom, her arm creaking with each sway. Her bedroom was a small yet cozy one, to the right of Silco’s office upstairs. You ought to slink underneath her and pick her up, with how sluggish and drunken she was.

Despite your urge to help and understanding she isn’t in any place to deny said help you made it up the stairs and into her room. It wasn’t special or anything; but there was a charm to it. Different bottles of different shapes and sizes offered a different perspective of her alcohol addiction, implying maybe it started off as a hobby. She closed the door, and your hands wandered up to your head to scratch your hair as you admired the bottles. You heard her arm disengage from the assembled socket on her shoulder, a steamy hiss escaping from the pipes as the metal hinged and croaked into her hand, setting it to the side of her bed.

You turned around to acknowledge her, potentially strike up a conversation about where the bottles came from. But to your utter surprise and morbid curiosity she was undressing before your eyes, buttons flying open quickly as she moves with a speed that almost sheds an inkling of light to her ferocity with her fingers, her veiny arms tensing with every deliberate movement she makes. As you step back with an “Ah.” and close your eyes she notices you, chuckling.

“What, never seen another woman’s body before?” She teased, and you moved your hands away, looking at her eyes with disappointment, your face flushing red. “I have,” you muttered, shielding your view with your hand again, maybe restraining yourself from taking a glance. “You could have warned me.”

She scoffed with a shrug, removing layers of her clothes into a heap as she stretched her arm, her back muscles flexing in harmony. You caught a glimpse of her happy trail and muscly build as she walked before you, opening a drawer to your left.

“You’re the one who decided to soak me with water. I knew you were a wildfire, but I’d never strike you as this bold.” Wildfire, the word etched into your mind as her body rested on her bed, pulling her pants up as her pectoral muscles flexed with the effort, a low grumble escaping from her lips.

“Need help?” You said, a look of amusement on your expression as you watched her struggle. She looked up to acknowledge you, her expression softening as she let out a scoff. “Be my guest.” You walked towards her with ginger footsteps, so sure she would pull a fast one on you. Instead she looked at you with a sense of urgency, imploring you to quicken your pace. As you reached her, you searched her eyes for a sense of something for a moment before your fingers dipped below the stuck side of her pants, pulling them up and over her waist with effort. You sat back, looking up at the ceiling as a bead of sweat rolled down your forehead.

“I never considered how hard life would be if I didn’t have another arm.” You said finally, as Sevika looked at you with a more sensitive look, her eyes wandering down to the side. “I think you’re strong for it, honestly.” You said, your head tilting towards her. She studied your face, a genuine look of shock on hers. Her expression steadied to amusement, her eyebrow raising as her lips sat slightly open. Slightly parted, a wry smirk tugging at her lip.

“You’re admiring me for what… Surviving?” She said, a dry laugh leaving her lips as she poked her head out of a her shirt, moving her arm through the tank top. You felt almost embarrassed that you were saying anything. “Don’t go putting words in my mouth. I said you’re very strong. Take that as you will.” You said assertively, but the smirk playing on your lips was admirable. You weren’t sure if you were smirking because she had charmed you ever so slightly, or because you just couldn’t believe how egotistical she was. You glanced at Sevika, then took a double take once you realized she was staring. Her eyes darted away again, like they usually do when she’s caught.

“Stop doing that.” You said, your expression turning serious as your eyebrows furrowed as you confronted her. Sevika looked at you cluelessly, speaking up with a deepened tone. “Oh, like what?” She said, her eyes never leaving yours. “Like.. That. Like you’re some horny weirdo looking at an unsuspecting woman on the street.” She let out a hearty laugh, a bead of tears welling up in her waterline. “What? What do you strike me as, some horny dog? I’m slightly offended.” She said in a lower yet curious tone, her hand wandering up her waist ever so slightly as she leaned back into her bed, her arm holding her up ever so slightly. But there was no denying the deep breaths that casted longingly out of her lips, the way her chest heaved as she stole glances of your figure like it was addicting.

“I‘m not like that, at least not for just anyone. Besides, you’ve got a pretty face. I bet you get anything you want.” She said plainly, folding her legs as she made her cruel comment on your appearance. “Fuck you.” You said, a puff of air escaping your nostrils as you shake your head, your eyes wandering to the ceiling. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment, before you feel Sevika shift her weight up, sitting awfully closer to you now.

“I meant what I said, vixen,” She spoke in a shameless, almost predatory tone. When your eyes flicker back to her, she looked away. Her shiftiness made you lean down to her a bit closer, leaning your weight on your elbow. Your expression darkened.

“What, that I get anything I want?” You scoffed. “If I got what I wanted, I wouldn’t be here with your drunk self making sure you don’t suffocate on your own vomit because you can’t handle yourself.” You said, your tone bitter with disbelief. Sevika looked up at you, a hint of surprise in her expression, betraying her previously smitten look. “No, I meant that you’ve got a pretty face. And as for Silco’s request..” She sat up with a grunt, untying her short hair as it fell at her shoulders, a sigh wistfully escaping her lips.

“I‘m embarrassed that my proper introduction to you was one where I am inebriated. I‘m sorry for that, and that Silco made someone like you go and look after me. That doesn’t change how I feel about you however; and I‘m sorry we got off on the wrong foot.”

She looked up at Sevika, her tall figure now sitting next to her, searching her face for some sort of forgiveness or clemency. You simply sighed, rolling your eyes. “I don’t care. You’re not exactly the most pleasant person anyway; so I don’t hope for a good first impression.” She raised her eyebrows, a smirk playing on her lips. “You don’t really mean that.” Whatever you meant, it was left in the past as she stood up, gathering another blanket from a dresser, unfolding it as she draped it on you, fluffing her pillow up.

“Thanks..?” You questioned, pulling the fluffy blanket from off of your face. “I only have one bed in here, so you’ll have to share.” She raised her eyebrows, almost biting her lips out of anticipation as she awaited the girl’s response, hoping for shock. Unknowingly to you, Sevika took great pleasure in getting a reaction out of you. She loved seeing your expression change to something unexpected, and it drove her to do certain things for a reaction. Maybe it was just because she had been drinking, but it humored her.

“No, we are NOT doing that..” You stood up, biting your lip as your thoughts raced to improvise a solution for the unthought problem that had presented itself. “Or you can go and sleep in Silco’s room.” She knew how disgusting the mattress in there looked, shuddering at the implication. “I can just.. Sleep on the floor.” You sighed, like you had avoided a near-death experience. “It’s gonna be cold and uncomfortable,” Sevika’s expression lightened as she shrugged, walking over to the ornate lamp she had as she clicked it off. You layed out the blanket, trying to cozy up in it. She begrudgingly gave you one of her pillows. You waited for her to go to sleep before your eyes flickered, stalling to sleep. But you couldn’t. The draft from the open window paired with the cold floor served you no favors, a groan escaping your lips. It was what, 39 minutes of tossing? Before Sevika jerked awake from the sudden sensation of your cold hands entering her warm oasis under her blanket.

“Knew you’d give in.” She said groggily but smugly, facing away from you. You refused to acknowledge she was right, feeling her turn to face you as she covered you with her blanket, pulling you in snugly. Every fiber in your being protested; being close enough to smell the underlying scent of booze and sweat on her made you wanna gag. But her cologne and warmth made you reconsider, that maybe it was nice for a moment. Her hair was still a little wet from your previous act of protest, and you somehow felt her eyes on you, the light from the hall offering you a glimpse of her expression. It was.. Something else. Something you hadn’t seen before. Suddenly, you felt her hand move to your cheek, rubbing your cold nose.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You said, but the warmth of her hand made you gasp just a bit. “Warming you up, clearly you need it. I told you the floor was gonna be uncomfortable and cold.” You let out an undeclared grunt, your eyes closing before you felt her move her head closer. “What are you doing besides trying to torture me? You know you reek of booze.” You protested with your words, but you stayed put. “I know..” She ran her fingers through your hair. “Mm, forgive me.”

You sat there in silence for a moment, simply listening to the whistling of her nostrils in and out, her chest heaving and expanding with effort. That’s when her eyes fluttered open, exploring your face again, tiredly. There’s that gaze again. Then without warning, she inched closer, your eyebrows furrowing, but only offering a grunt up in response. “I’m sorry, I just can’t help the way my body feels around you. It’s an urge I can’t deny..” She said in a tone that sounded like she wasn’t tired and drunk. Your eyes widened, but something in you told you you should test the waters.

So with a small smirk you spoke. “And what would that make you do, Sevika? You never struck me as the type to admit your feelings like that. This is a desperation I had never anticipated from you.” You teased, and it only served to fire her growing, primal desires. She sat up suddenly, one hand on the other side of your head as she leans down.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” she muttered, breathing heavily from something you couldn’t put your finger on. She was still half asleep, but still trying to be all fierce. “Or I’ll have to do something about it.” She said, still breathing heavily. You two sit there for a moment, before you dare. You decide to press your lips against Sevika’s unsuspecting lips, her eyes surging open with a surge of energy. She let out a soft moan, pressing her lips into yours as you both come crashing down into the pillow with an unspoken need that threatened to eat you both. Why did you kiss her? You hated her guts. She didn’t like you either. But you couldn’t deny the glances you stole admiring her chiseled body, wondering momentarily what it would be like to pinned beneath her. You hated her guts, but something in you urged you to press further, Sevika wondering how far your daring will go.

“Never pegged you as the type to go and kiss first, sugar,” She chuckled, your lips pressing up against hers again in protest. A small ‘mmp’ escaped from her lips as you silenced her, melting into the soft touch of your buttery lips as her eyes flickered shut. She patted her lap as she sat back, and before you knew it, you fluidly moved your ass into her lap, her arm steadying you on her lap as she made out with you, both of you losing yourselves in the sensation. She felt a throbbing ache in her core, shaking with the need to feel friction. That’s when you beat her to it, subconsciously bucking your hips up and down your thigh. She laughed in the kiss, breaking the seal as she let out a steamy breath onto your lips, taking in breaths of air like it were her last.

“You had enough? I‘m not just some other pretty face.” You said, your confidence faltering when you notice her intrepid gaze, looking up all and down you like you were a fix of shimmer dropped in front of an addict. Suddenly, you felt the thrust of her hips as she ejected you from her lap, laying her weight on top of you. Your eyes opened at her boldness, but any thought was pushed to the side of the feeling of her stippling kisses along the bridge of your temple and down your neck, her hand tangled in heaps of your hair as she groaned and moaned into your neck, leaving love bites and sucking with a punishing force.

She then sat up, pinning your legs between hers as to prevent you from moving; as though you were going to. Not when things were getting good. She fingered your shirt, removing it as you made it easier for her, lifting yourself up to give her leverage. You settled back down to the bed, where she would one-handedly remove your bra. A move that was impressive; but also told you she’d done this many times before. She returned to kissing you with an admirable force, one that made your lips tingle, almost sting from the sensation. She snuggled her nose into the side of your neck, growling with effort as she left a few more marks, dragging her lips deliberately and slowly down your neck and your collar; through your chest and down your waist, peppering kisses wherever she can. She then silently pleaded with you, her teeth sunk into the rim of your pants.

“What, why are you waiting for my permission for? That’s sweet, I wasn’t expecting that from you.” She grunted, huffing. “Don’t say something like that, vixen. Your word means very much to me, even despite my growing desperation for you. Please.” She begged, with a fervent expression. You reluctantly nodded, that expression on her face serving you a slight smirk. The way she begged made your mind drive wild. As she removed your pants and got to your panties, your knees flinched closed. “Not now, please. Don’t hesitate now..” She groaned, the same pleading expression on her face. That’s when she tugged at the waistband of your panties, and you agreed for her to continue. She used her teeth and hand in vigorous effort, patting your thigh as to tell you to open your legs up.

You still couldn’t believe what was happening. You thought she certainly couldn’t be serious. The girl you swore you wanted dead and who never paid you any mind is now at your clit, her fingers darting and curling in and out of you with embarrassing ease. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” She groaned into your core, nipping at your clit as she licked it up and down with effort. Your hips bucked involuntarily into her face, moaning a concerning amount. She bit the side of your thigh as to remind you to be quiet, your hand moving up to your lips. But as she sped up you realized you couldn’t have possibly kept quiet. She kept intense eye contact with you, this causing an unexpected, squeaky moan from your lips.

“Sevvvv… Ika…..” You squeaked, your hand moving up to clasp your lip. This seemed to fuel something in her however, as she sped up her pace, growling like an animal as she moved her fingers from your insides. As you groan in protest from feeling the loss of her fingers inside of you, your sensations are overwhelmed by the feeling of her tongue curling up against the roof of your cunt, sounds of her praising how wet you are drowned out quickly by your increasingly intense moans. She used her bulky nose to tease your clit, eating you out sloppily; messily. She couldn’t seem to get enough, nipping at your clit here and there. That’s when she groaned more into your cunt, almost pushing herself into it further. Hearing her grunts of desire and raw need seemed to be enough to push you over the edge.

As you felt the grasping clutches of your inevitable undoing, you buck your hips more into Sevika’s mouth, eliciting a growl from her lips as she realizes that she’s got you now. You moan her name one final time, full of raw emotion and carnal need. “Fuh… Fuck… Sevi.. Sevikka!” She smiled, removing her tongue as your hips fell back onto the bed, taking deep, ragged breaths. “Fuck. I never knew how much I needed to feel you cum on my tongue until now.” She said, her fingers moving over her own pussy as she looks at me. There’s that look again. She pulled her own pants down this time, kneeling one leg on the bed as she stood up, pulling her boxers down. She then moved to cage your leg, moving her wet, throbbing clit onto yours. The sensation made you groan, but it was the feeling of her desperately bucking back and forth, chasing her release that made you whimper. You were weak and still feeling the aftershock of your orgasm when she’d placed her slick warmth against your heat.

after 20 minutes of incomprehensible heaving and moaning, Sevika’s legs shook beneath her, her head flinging back as she moaned. “Fuck, you’re just letting me grind our pussies together like this. Maybe you’re really a slut.” She teased, moving her hand to your chin as she smirked. This comment didn’t go ignored however, as you ground your hips into hers.

The sudden friction made her body twitch with desire, her mouth slightly ajar. Her muscles and hips ached for release, and you were the catalyst to achieve that. With a final thrust she felt herself reach her climax, moaning your name in a deep yet needy tone. She rode her orgasm out on you, rutting her sopping wet depths against you. “Who’s the slut now?” You questioned through panting, Sevika’s expression changing to one of surprise. “Hmngh, maybe it’s me.” She said warily. She then surged forward, collapsing between your legs as she lazily kissed your chin, drifting to sleep. Before you knew it, you had fallen asleep too.

[thisuserisgonesorry]

1,, im not a teenager . might be young but i have a pretty good grasp on adulthood atp , and i’m not the only person that thinks this specific take; ive asked a lot of mutuals/friends who are (young,,) adults and agree w/ me and many people in rbs agree so like .. bringing my age into this is so left field cos . idk . weird thing 2 say

2 in my experience from living in a very “redneck” (lack of a better term) area (though not america, so there could be a difference), ive met 20-25 year olds who look and act exactly like daryl in s1 because teenagers in redneck areas just look like that. thats where my estimate came from, due to my own experiences

3,, norman reedus literally just looks young in everything he plays . you cant deny that he has a bit of a baby face and doesnt ALWAYS look his age . (but also celebrity men do look like that cos they dont just start rotting away the second they hit 23 because blue collar / minimum wage jobs suck) and never did i say there was a problem w/ him being 40 , just that it didnt make sense in my mind,,, nd actors can play characters that are a different age than them. norman being 40 ≠ daryl having to be 40

4,, he wasnt embarrassed until around season 3-4 iirc , closer to when he was around more people and less isolated , closer to merles death , more so around when he found out carol would go to that community home to get away from ed and then more around beths whole arc (iirc? im a bit aways from s3 rn,,)

nd considering 25+ is around when the frontal lobe developed. yeah. he would act like an idiot in s1. like all young adults do. and he would helplessly follow his brother around for validation considering his childhood, and he’d do whatever he wanted. he would be a terrible drunk, with no job. young adults do that. especially ones w/ mental health / bad childhood

then he develops into a person who was willing to learn to deal with his trauma when around season 4 when (in hc) he’d be like 27 at the earliest (?) because we have to remember that we skip all of loris pregnancy and then the first year (?) of judiths life. making him on the closer side to 30 around the time the prison, when his character starts developing.

(and i never said 25 was the solid age, just that hes “like 25”, meaning im happy to account s1 daryl as 26,27,28, whatever, just that hes under 30 in s1 in my mind)

5 i agree that him being older plays a part in his story but i dont think being 25 suddenly makes him a little baby that makes his development void. his frontal lobe developed. that is a valid subtextual reason for him to mature. but that isnt the only thing that made him reflect and want to cope with his trauma. merles frontal lobe developed and he never tried to do what daryl did - therefor the age thing doesn’t exactly diminish his story or else merle wouldve changed before the outbreak, but he didnt, because some people dont. some people reach frontal lobe age and stay the same. its not “he just grew up” because then merle would have too, but he did grow up, and realised following merle was stupid. but he wouldnt have reached that outcome if there werent other factors so it can easily be both

6 i never said 40 looks old or that theres a problem w it, but how is he older than rick? than most of the other people there? being older than rick feels like it makes no sense (although rick didnt grow up like daryl did and they had carl young so blab yeah theres reasons) and merle being 35+ does make some sense though id somewhat agree 35 is young for merle. m not saying that ppl start decomposing when they hit 30 but god forbid i hc someone as not 40

+ trauma physically ages people so even if daryl did look the same age or older than rick, then it would still be plausible that hes younger. we see trauma age characters in this show. its not hard to assume it happened to him outside of the outbreak too

prob formatted this like a mess but ,, m tired

n e way other people in the rb say that they think daryl is different ages to all of them (varying from 20-40) and as i said in those rbs its interesting that no one can really “agree” on what age he should be cos hes an enigma like that and i think it suits him,, like we all can agree on certain things about certain character cos its a unanimous vibe but then his unanimous vibe is that no one truly knows him??? subtext of it all .

anyway /nm for all of this . im just a little guy . i respect ur opinion cos i love my pookie and i really do love that everyone interprets his story so differently ,,,, i just like talking about it

idgaf im sick of not saying it. s1 daryl dixon is not fucking 40 bro. hes like 25. there is no way in fucking hell.

[lostsoulaltair]

Owari no Seraph - Chapter 143 Thoughts

Well, the official english chapter came out! Gotta say it was pretty good. Of course, such opinion might change depending on context and interpretation.

6 days ago, I shared an analysis about the chapter and since I've seen two special people sharing an update, why not join the fun?

If you want to check the analysis, go take a look. But let's focus on the english version, shall we?

P.S: As usual, thoughts, theories and analysis always remain neutral. Ships are excluded.

1. Ky Luc

The first question that pops thanks to the chapter is why Ky Luc's fingers remained. This is actually easy following the logic on how vampires become demons or are bound to cursed gears.

In contrast to other vampires who usually wield swords to attack and make their attacks stronger; let's recall that there are exceptions to this rule. Those being Queen Krul Tepes whose sword was Arukanu

And Ky Luc, being the 5th progenitor. What do I mean?

Let's recall how Ky Luc made his sword, shall we?

Back in chapter 55 when Ky Luc's powers were displayed, he relied on his ring to draw blood. But in contrast to what could be believed, the sword he used was all formed thanks to his own blood instead of other vampire weapons that heavily rely on physical swords. Ky Luc's attacks always were directed on his own blood. Such fact is visible in the cover.

Therefore, as it may sound grim, that's the simple reason as to why there were two fingers left to become cursed gears. (How exactly will they work, mayhaps they'll be fused with Mitsuba's current weapon, I'll detail that later).

2. Reincarnation or Memory Mix

Another detail that cannot go dismissed is how the squad appeared during a flashback...or was it really a flashback?

What do I mean?

First of all, let's retake one thing Shinoa states as Ky Luc's flashback starts. She states she's absorbing his memories, which means said memories are becoming part of her. As she keeps devouring those memories, Ky Luc's most prominent memory is when he discusses with Urd about Urd's dream, then several kids that resemble the squad pass by.

But, are they the previous lives of the squad or substitutes as Shinoa keeps learning about Ky and Urd?

For this, let's remember one special detail. Yuu couldn't be there given that he was made through the homunculi Shikama kept. The last time we saw about Shikama, the third progenitors as demons, the corpse of Mikaela and Yuu was back in chapter 105.

And considering that the events of the flashbacks between Urd and Ky take place in Europe at an unknown time like the moments of the First with his demons, are at an unknown time. A former Yuu can't be the one running there, meaning that the kids running are images or NPC taking the aspects of the squad given that Ky Luc's memories are becoming part of Shinoa.

3. Humans and Vampires

As @nono-uwu and @distinguished-slacker mentioned on their respective posts (make sure to read their post!); let's not forget the difference between humans and vampires. During the beginning of the current story (after the LNs and very first arcs of OnS) there was a heavy grudge between humans and vampires, it was seen how vampires would kill humans out of fun or for drinking them way before they were caught and taken to the Vampire Capital.

Thus, it's not that Shinoa is being just evil or that she's a sadist; but it's a fact. Vampires and humans were in a constant war until the Vampire Progenitors managed to take control of Shibuya, beating Kureto Hiragi and Shinya easily until they managed to escape.

It was well known that one would be the last day for a soldier, other, the day a vampire would meet its end.

Furthermore, let's remember something else, what could it be?

Humans given their grude, the way then perceive vampires is one sided, which means, they are prone to believe vampires chose such path out of joy when it's the latter. How can I say this?

Easy, this lies the very moment Shinoa cries after keeping with Ky's turning.

Given that Shinoa is constantly letting her human emotions flow, she's experiencing more, she's experiencing that the Vampire Progenitors that were their enemies in such an endless war; they too, when they were humans suffered and endured a lot of pain. Hence why when she cries, she sees that Ky's human side is filled with too much grief. Hence why not just her but her teammates are learning that even their enemies were once humans that carried their battles.

5. Mitsuba

One of the things that wasn't expected was that Mitsuba's cursed gear would be upgraded to a Black Demon. Plot wise it may seem weak and of course, I can't justify the author given that there were many opportunities that were sadly dismissed. Nevertheless, the very fact that Mitsuba will receive her own black demons leads to a possibility, what do I mean?

Do you remember the requirements for Black Demons?

Correct. Only the candidates to wield black cursed gear, must have gone through special experiments.

This opens the possibility for Mitsuba to have actually been another test subject for unknown experiments.

Furthermore, given that Mitsuba and Ky Luc have one thing in common, what could it be? Correct. They haven't found a reason to live yet. But in contrast to the vampire progenitor, Mitsuba will likely find one for her own.

What do you think everyone? Let me know!