2.2 spoiler analysis (?)
The most tragic thing about Sunday is that he didn't learn anything. Granted he was trying to convince our side of his plan and we lept on the offense to try and stop him instead of talking to him, it might've not convinced him but it gives him a broader perspective. He who doesn't know the world, only dreams. Sunday's philosophy happened as a result of his shelterdness. It's ultimately flawed because what he thinks is weakness is too broad when he actually means the weak willed and the unfortunate. I actually agree on that part, some ppl are dealt some card that can't be changed, but he thought of firefly as a weakling even tho she isn't weak willed, she's fighting for herself . He only knows penacony, and how everyone here is only trying to escape from something, a job, a past, and eventually a life. It was the impeding horror that his wish cannot come true because no higher power can ever grant them the perfect world, and the crushing sadness as he sees people helpless.
But escapism is inherent in humans, and that's why his plans never were about changing reality, or fighting for the world. He was the one who escaped the most from life and living, from pain and tragedy. He, Is the Weakling. And so the shadow of nihility loomed over.
if he wasn't ascending but kept being a human god then I can only assume he'd break, because he is not protecting the weak anymore, he's holding on their everything, and they'd lay every burden on him to fix. It was true when robin said that the order cannot fix humanity's flaws, and Sunday had the fatal impressions that the weak needed to be "babied", instead of nurtured and led to become strong themselves, and that the weak would rather not fight against the odds. I was a bit iffy about how the crew had no real argument but that last line...damn it was too good. Life slumbers, so that someday we wake up. And I think that's the moral of the story. People have their ups and downs, we struggle and it gets too hard to bear, so we escape, and that's okay. But then dawn comes again and we have to face life. "There's no night with no darkness"
I still semi support Sunday's plan, because the moral of the story to us was to face reality, but this is a fictional world, we can never have a dude ascend to create this paradise to us, but they can.
Sunday is so stubborn, as he falls down from the defeat of the duel he said would decide the better ideology, he still reached to the sky and lamented over his loss, as if humanity lost, and people would still suffer. But wasn't that the point of the dual? Wasn't that what should've convinced him? He falls motionlessly even as robin hugs him.
Everything was too strange to him, when TB tells him we sleep so that someday we wake up, he's stunned into silence,like it's too late of a conclusion he never came to because HE never woke up. And thus, he wakes to weep.
If you've seen the 2.3 LC with Sunday on it, spoilers for description if you mind : he once again despairs over the loss, and what does he eventually say? That maybe....maybe there's a way... *Sigh* we know of elio's letter to him, but Sunday gets stubborn like with sparkle so I'm not sure if he'll agree but, not the order again pls;;;
If anyone can articulate what path Sunday was walking on (clarification: as an aeon xD) hit me up! I can't explain it...he didn't fully believe in the order, nor Harmony, him saying to ena that humanity was the one who created you sounds like he believes in humanity, yet he doesn't, it's like he believes in the path but not the aeon (or their track record of destruction lol). Sunday has the kind of contradictions that tingle one's brain
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「Screw It」 · Chapter 2
HIS SECOND THOUGHTS
➥ Chris is supposed to 'let loose' at the biannual depravity festival a.k.a the Sigma Kappa mixer.
➥ The author chooses not to issue tags for everything that takes place in this work to preserve some element of surprise where applicable. By continuing, you accept to proceed at your own risk. Read full disclaimer here.
➥ Installment of The Red Lights Chronicles
⚠ — Discussions of virginity (see masterlist for more)
“How the fuck is everyone so natural at this?” Chris quickly scanned the large room, his face contorted in mild shock.
The entire place was buzzing with laughter and varying levels of sleaziness. People talking to one another way too closely, dancing a bit too intimately, licking salt off each other’s necks and what have you…
Then you had the Holmes-Watson duo at the secluded corner of the bar, looking way too serious like they were discussing politics over brandy in the late 1800s.
“Did you notice how the guys are exchanging their dick game testimonials?”
“WHAT?! No?”
“That’s because they don’t!” Jisung slid another shot glass towards his friend and raised his for a toast, “Everyone’s just following their instincts, my man. It’s called thinking with your dick.”
It was frustratingly easy to tell someone (not) to do something, wasn’t it? Oh, don’t worry about it. Change your perspective. Don’t let it get to you. Turn a blind eye. Don’t be depressed.
Actually doing it, though? Goddamn monk patience right there.
It wasn’t like Chris was incapable of assigning the driver’s seat to his reproductive parts. If anything, his mind was way too preoccupied with it, but strictly when he was alone rather than in public functions like this. A force of habit to be ‘proper’. Every time he was about to get physical with someone, that same footage installed itself in his jumbotron inner-mind theater like a cruel foreshadowing of what was about to go down.
Getting scarred once isn’t enough? Try the latest Christopheresque methods of self-torture for a chance to win a gift card!
In conclusion, no, he couldn’t figure out a way to ‘not let it get to him’.
He was trying, and god fucking knows he wanted to remove that bothersome splinter buried six feet under his façade, but something always seemed to conveniently get in the way.
This one’s too chatty. That one’s on TikTok. This one thinks it’s okay to say ‘irregardless’. That one wears too much lime green.
As if any of that was fundamentally important for sexual chemistry. But he couldn’t help it.
The more time passed by, the bigger his inadequacy complex grew since he wasn’t able to, quote, ‘stack up those XP points when he could.’ Now it seemed too late like he missed some important deadline, and the whole thing was a piece of gum stuck to his shoes, continuously faltering him and making cringeworthy noises when he walked.
You. Suck. You. Suck. You. Suck.
Maybe pursuing doctoral education was just a massive overcompensation on his part, who knows?
“It’s not rocket science, man, just…” Jisung mimed something that was supposed to be his soul leaving his body, “Let loose.”
“Let… loose,” Chris echoed his words while zoning out, but his mind was simply not cooperating with him to be present, “Shit! I needed to revise my syllabus.”
“My god you’re a nerd,” Jisung looked at him in utter disbelief, then sought help from Minho behind the bar, “Ares package. Make it two.”
While ten shots of Wet Pussies were being prepared, he examined Chris’ distracted face. Channie boy was like this for as long as Jisung knew the guy. Stubborn. Headstrong. Latching onto everything he could find to repair his pride. Of course it didn’t mean shit to be a virgin regardless of where you were in the adult timeline, but instead of admitting how much it was bothering him, Chris was pretending to be at peace with it. That was the frustrating part. And if he weren’t spectacularly failing at it, Jisung wouldn’t even consider dragging his ass to every social gathering he could find, but simply talking to the man did not seem to be working anymore. This bootleg immersion therapy was his last resort before he brought up the alternative of escorts again and risked getting punched in the face.
Or worse, another seminar on the ethics of sex work.
“Stop sabotaging yourself,” Jisung slapped him on the shoulder, “Just enjoy the moment for once.”
Why, I’d love to see a step-by-step demonstration of that, Chris wanted to loudly roll his eyes but pumped the brakes at the last second. He wasn’t even mad at Jisung. He wasn’t mad at anyone actually. The only person he loathed with a burning passion was himself for making a huge deal out of something that was supposed to be so damn trivial. He raised his shot for a silent toast and downed all five back to back to take all the residual edge off.
He didn’t want to fucking think anymore.
“She seems cool,” Jisung nodded towards a girl surrounded by what looked like the distant cousins of the Kardashians.
“I don’t think so,” Chris immediately protested, “Looks like she would livetweet it.”
“How about her?”
“GOD no. Too much Slytherin energy.”
“How is that even—?”
“Not the Lestrange kind. Pass,” Chris leveraged Jisung’s one weakness, “You know what, I thi—”
“Fucking stop overthinking this, or I’m gonna risk it all and slap the shit out of you,” he held onto Chris’ broad as fuck shoulders and harshly shook him, “Tonight we’re letting loose. Say it, what are we gonna do?”
“Let–Let loose.”
“With feeling.”
“Let loose.”
“DIG DEEP!”
“LET LOOSE!”
“Can I be a part of that?”
The duo was startled to death when they heard an unfamiliar voice next to them, not to mention right in the middle of a mortifying pep talk. The commandments of Wingmanism dictated doing the preliminary eliminations on behalf of your bro, immediately prompting Jisung to turn on his radar.
Looks? Check. Locked phone? Check. Lack of lime green? Check.
Without giving Chris the chance to make a dumbass argument, he approved of this candidate and nudged the prospective coupling of the night towards the couch. When he turned to the bar again, he heaved a huge sigh as if he had just put the kids to bed.
“Still trying to get him laid?” Minho asked with a faded sneer.
“I’m gonna die with my eyes open if I depart this world without seeing it,” Jisung hyperbolically gestured, but one look at the gorgeous cheekbones in front of him, and his whole entire personality changed, “But more importantly, whatchu doing later tonight?”
“Damn, they don’t do pleasantries where you’re from?”
“Come on, you like me,” he leaned forward, the smile on his face impossible not to reciprocate, “Why do you drag me around so much? I’m obviously simping for you.”
“You realize I’m holding a sharp object.”
“That’s your version of batting eyelashes. Everybody knows that.”
As much as he wanted to keep the psychotically stoic mask, something about the quokka dude was just plain irresistible. Careful not to give a hundred percent of what he wanted, Minho let out a snort and darted his eyes away.
“Ask me again in two hours and we’ll see.”
Jisung triumphantly slammed his hand on the bar top, scaring the shit out of his porcelain prince, then disappeared into the crowd to mingle with some of his friends.
Meanwhile on the blue corner, Chris was midway through one of the most intense mental statistics of his life.
The girl in front of him was a total ten. He knew a couple of guys who would murder him in cold blood just to get with someone like her. One needed to have inoperable astigmatism not to notice she was encouraging him to… well, let loose. Her body language was clearly indicative of willingness. Touching his arm, playing with her hair, laughing at a genuinely unfunny joke—if he made a move now, she would leave with him.
Ergo, p < 0.05. Possibility of score: 97%.
“Do you think we can take this somewhere… more private?” the nameless girl finally brought it up herself when Chris failed to mention anything remotely evocative of sex. It was a simple yes or no question, but he was choking harder than B-Rabbit in 8 Mile.
She was objectively so damn hot with the kind of body you would brag about in locker rooms. That was supposed to be his focal point, but he was having trouble focusing on her words, let alone being turned on. All he could think about was how this conversation couldn’t be any more boring, and he had endured a finance lecture once. Nothing was ever going to come out of bedding this girl tonight. Even her perfume smelled like the looming regret of the morning after.
There had to be something fundamentally wrong with him at this point.
Uh oh, do something. She’s getting closer, DO SOMETHING!
“OKAY, I’m gonna go,” he jumped to his feet, giving no fucks about providing a reasonable explanation, and almost booked it towards the front door.
“Chris?” Jisung called out after him with slight concern, but Chris had half a mind to set fire to this place. Everything, everyone, all of it was suddenly too much.
“Later, bro.”
Only when he reached the safe bubble of his home did his heartbeat slow down to a normal rhythm, letting him heave a half-relieved half-disappointed sigh behind that closed door. Shower was the least of his priorities at that moment—he went straight to his room, got naked, threw himself to his bed, and started scrolling through his phone to find something to jerk off and sleep.
Art, art, gif, gif, art, text post, incorrect quote, gif, gif, art…
Then…
bassboostedjiscake reblogged:
Closeted sluts living under a rock, check out my girl. Creaming guaranteed 🍦
Jisung was the horniest guy he knew, so if he dropped this on Chris’ dashboard, it must have been at least worth taking a look. He clicked on the profile thinking he was going to be greeted by Jisung’s newest favorite ‘adult content creator’ posting semi-nudes, however—
🌶️Oni
@scovillescale
I like pizza. And creating sexy universes.
Sexy… universes?
The fuck did that even mean?
After scrolling through a bunch of Q&A posts, he got to the cream of the crop. Technically, yes, this was an adult content creator, but not in the format he was used to. Finally noticing what he was looking at, Chris couldn’t contain the scream bubbling up in his throat.
“This is goddamn 2D porn!”
If it weren’t for the fact that he was bored and horny that one night, he probably wouldn’t have been at this exact part of the Internet, but he was, and for a man who thought animated porn was high art, this blog was a fucking gold mine.
His worlds had collided.
Shortly after, he found himself deep into the rabbit hole of this Oni person’s body of work. Artwork being pretty was one thing, but the story? So captivating that he couldn’t put his phone down.
“BUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?!”
The last time he startled himself with his own voice was probably when he was reading one of those original choose your own adventure books. He stayed up till 3 a.m. binging one story, completely forgetting to jerk off until the very last sex scene, which depicted the female lead riding her love interest at the back of a car while choking him. The orgasm he had to that?
Fucking sublime.
Once sufficient blood started flowing to his brain again, he immediately hit follow, then fervently typed a message.
Anonymous asked:
HOLY SHIT I mean it as the highest compliment possible, but I came so hard reading this. Your style is awesome and you got an instant fan. Can I be your 🍍 anon?
He didn’t even think twice before hitting Ask with the orgasm high, but all of a sudden, he remembered Jisung’s wording in that godforsaken reblog.
Closeted sluts living under a rock, check out my girl.
My girl.
So he had just told a woman at three in the morning that he masturbated to a story she created and that he came so harfwnekjfnwfnw THAT WAS SO FUCKING INAPPROPRIATE!
Chris wanted his bed to swallow him whole, beside himself with how mortified he was. He only meant to convey his admiration, completely skipping over the fact that he wasn’t talking to one of his online bros. God, the disrespect… There was no way to edit this goddamn digital owl, let alone delete it before this turning-sex-into-art goddess saw that.
His fast-forwarded panic monologue was cut short barely a minute later. He saw the reply post on his dashboard, and it made his heart jump in his chest for no reason.
Someone was online. At this hour.
Thank you for being so awesome! Also you got taste. Pineapple pizza slaps!
#🍍 anon
The amount of relief he felt for not being called an uber creep was enough to knock him to sleep. He reread the message at least five times before putting his phone down.
“She likes pineapple pizza?” he chuckled to himself stupidly in his bed.
What a goddamn scandal.
He clasped his hands under his nape and replayed the night in his head one more time. His talk with Jisung, the encounter with the nameless girl… Some things did come naturally to some people, and Chris always found himself panicking when he tried doing the same.
Maybe he just wasn’t meant to experience some things in this life.
“Why couldn’t you be at the party tonight?” his smile trailed off into a disappointed sigh while looking at the dark screen of his phone.
⥊ TO BE CONTINUED ⥋
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AUTHOR'S NOTE
For every Minho with a pudding, there is a corresponding Chris with a pineapple. I don't make the rules.
Oh, wait, I actually do.
「© 2021-2024, cb97percent · No translations, rewrites, or reposts permitted」
✉ Enjoyed this? It would be cool of you to reblog so that my work can reach more people.
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you know how you don't adopt cats, cats adopt you? Well here we have Narinder adopting a dad
(I encourage you to view each page in a new tab, it's all sketch so you can see all my thought and build lines but I think it's clear enough?)
This is sort of a prologue for this AU I've talked about and is one of like... 3 or 4 parts
That horrible moment realization, regret and grief hits you all at the same time
I like long-furred Narinder I think he should embrace manbun life /kidding (unless... (/j/j))
Ignore the perspective issues on the last page I got very tired (am sick today) and I am a firm believer in doing things bad but having fun. That being said I had zero intention of making backgrounds for this and just generalizing everything but then I drew the crumbling ancient temple platform and the divine battleground and it was over I needed backgrounds from there on out-
Does the world of Cult of the Lamb have the same meaning for middle fingers? Who knows, I just thought it'd be funny for Narinder to double-flip off Lamb as he's disappearing into the teleportation stone. Don't @ me <3
I didn't want there to be any dialogue so I hope the story is clear through the pictures alone but if not, there's an explanation below the cut
After being defeated, Narinder finds himself on the indoctrination stone, the manacles still around his wrists and neck. The Lamb offers him mercy- a place to live. But Narinder refuses. He gets to his feet on his own and runs to the teleportation stone, and the Lamb is too surprised for a moment to realize what's happening. They try to stop him, knowing how injured Narinder is and that this stunt will only aggravate Narinder's wounds, but Narinder is running on anger, regret, humiliation and adrenaline- and he is much older than the Lamb is and knows more locations than the Lamb does. He knows about the long-fallen territory on the very edge of the Old Faith's land, what was once a grand city of gods having become a divine battlefield eons ago; it is the only place he can think to go, stumbling his way down the stairs that are much too big for his newly mortal form and running for the forest beyond the Old Faith's border.
Running through the old beaten paths of the forest, he trips and finds himself unable to pull himself back up, his adrenaline fading almost as soon as he hits the ground and the pain of his wounds flares up. He allows himself to fall unconscious, thinking maybe he will just quietly perish out there in the woods, but is found by an older canine passing through. Finding the injured Narinder, the old dog puts him on the cart he pulls and takes him to his home, tending to his wounds.
Narinder wakes up in pain, finding himself in a strange, unfamiliar place, and his savior brings him food. Narinder struggles, his hands shakey and everything in pain, but he is resistant at first to the old dog's aid. Over time, as the dog tends his wounds and gives him clothes to wear and changes his bandages, Narinder begins to accept his help and allows him to help exercise his limbs while he's bed bound and, eventually, help him to walk again. Months pass them by, from summer to autumn to winter until it's spring. The old dog is happy for Narinder's progress and gives Narinder a fond pat on his head, unintentionally reminding Narinder of Shamura.
In the spring, Narinder is able to walk on his own, though he uses a cane to aid him. He explores the old dog's home, since the dog isn't around as much as he used to be now that Narinder is mostly independent again. Narinder spots him out a window, tending to a garden, and steps outside to discover he's on a farm. It's a large farm, though not very bountiful; it's a wheat field, one that clearly suffers from the lack of a god's blessing- in a world of gods, a godless village can only just get by. Beyond the fields are more homes and sheds, and people tend the fields.
He joins the old dog in the garden after being invited over, and the dog gives him a flower bulb to plant. Narinder remembers when he and Leshy did this exact same thing, with Leshy showing Narinder how to plant the flower bulb in the dirt; as he gently buries it, he can feel Leshy's phantom hands over his own, as if guiding him. To Narinder's surprise, not only does the flower bloom as soon as it has been covered, but it spreads out; the garden bursts to life with the strange black and white flowers, and they grow wildly through and around the garden, reaching all the way to three graves under a solitary tree.
Narinder is looking at his hands in shock, not having expected to be able to do this; he had thought his magic was gone, the last vestiges of it used to activate the teleportation stone when he escaped. As he looks at them, the manacle around his neck falls off, landing in his hands, and begins to dissipate into residual magic, and he remembers Leshy- Leshy, pleading with him to hold his tongue, to give up on his newest, heretical ideas, that the world isn't ready to hear it and the consequences would be too great and the other Bishops wouldn't allow him to pursue it. Realizing all at once exactly what he lost- what he threw away when he refused to heed his brother's warnings and wait for the right time, when the world was ready- he breaks down, doubling over in tears- the first tears he's allowed himself for nearly a thousand years, now. Hurt from the betrayal, regret for what he did and made the Lamb do, grief for what his siblings did in fear of him- it all hits him at once.
The old dog reaches out to him, and Narinder clings to him, letting himself completely break down. The kind dog just holds him while he cries.
(Not shown: the old dog shows Narinder the shrine, explaining what it is and what the painted flat stones are for. He gives Narinder flat stones to paint and goes outside to speak to the graves of his own family, even though it's begun to rain.)
Narinder paints four stones, each one with a symbol on top that he associates with his siblings (a book for Shamura, a diamond crystal for Kallamar, stalks of wheat for Heket, and a camellia for Leshy). He doesn't really forgive them for their betrayal of him, doesn't forgive them for locking him away for a thousand years- but it soothes an ache deep inside, to accept that even if he can't forgive them he can mourn them and regret his part in all this. That despite everything there was still love- it's conflicting, but it's almost like... closure. Or, at least, the start of it.
He makes tea and offers it to the old dog when he comes inside, and they sit together and drink tea while listening to the rain. The four stones sit on the shrine now, with the dog's family's stones, cementing the fact that Narinder has accepted that he isn't leaving this house.
Thus, the old dog becomes the adopted father of a 5,000+ year old cat ex(?)-god.
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