#so time to just release it into the void and be content with whatever... this is
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OBSESSED: SHOKO feat THE BOYS (FINALE)
A/N: Well, well, well. Oh how the tables have turned, dear reader. It’s not so easy — juggling two special grades and their personal physician…is it?
S/N: This is it. The pièce de résistance. I was…this is…NO ONE LOOK AT ME AFTER YOU READ THIS. No idea the word count. Long af, though.
C/W:….the trio is their own content warning lol. Mature. 18+, MDNI.
Part I, Part II.
Is this…a dream?
This must be what it feels like to hear Domain Expansion, Infinite Void.
White static coats Shoko’s brain. She’s breathing underwater. Thinking in molasses.
It’s a miracle her legs are working — they’re currently trailing behind you and the boys, back to her apartment.
Her eyes are working, too — they’re attached to the dress rippling and bouncing off your ass. Your hips are a hypnotic pendulum. Swinging back and forth.
Back and forth.
The tailwind from your strut is a bad actor.
Every so often teasing your cotton panties that won the lottery. Kissing up against your pretty petals. Riding along the plump curve of your mounds. Accentuating the intoxicating swell of your hips.
It’s paralyzing.
You are paralyzing.
Satoru’s hand is curled around the back of your neck. His azure glow is so pristine, so bright it refracts off your gorgeous cheekbones. Dampening his Limitless and intensifying his Six Eyes.
Because the first to taste a meal is usually one’s eyes…right?
Shoko can nearly hear the depravity ringing between Satoru’s ears.
Then there’s Suguru.
An arm is draped around your waist, capturing and releasing the hem of your dress every few seconds. Mindless movements. His sniper-like gaze focused on the apartment door at the end of the hall.
Cool. Calm. Collected.
One would think, if you don’t know Suguru well enough.
His normally, perfectly repressed cursed energy surrounds him. Flickering into the air like campfire embers just waiting for the next gust of wind to erupt. Amethyst and graphite swarm around her best friend — the only indicator of his disintegrating self-control.
20 steps left until she is expected to produce door keys. The only thing standing between everyone and you.
This is it.
This is the moment. The one chance you get at ‘doing it right this time.’
15 steps.
There are no more wishes granted. No more genies stuffed into bottles, or whatever. This is it.
10 steps.
Get your shit together, Ieiri.
7.
Do not squander this on the sidelines.
3.
Shoko wires around the three of you. Stepping ahead to slot the frivolous piece of aluminum standing between her and her wet dream.
1.
The apartment door flies open. Satoru’s hand moves on autopilot — deepening his grip around your neck.
His conscious brain recedes. Triple distilled, unadulterated need moves in like a tropical storm.
Silky strands of your hair plaited in his fingers.
Wide, warm eyes locked into his.
Tiny slit in those pouty, siren lips of yours.
He will dismantle you. Piece by fucking piece.
Until you’re a babbling, sobbing brook beneath his fingers. Apologizing for being such a cocktease.
“Satoru…?”
There’s a change in your voice.
Fear? Nerves?
Prey finally realizing who is next on the menu?
Satoru is staring. Fully aware of how disarming his eyes can be. Born with godlike vision and somehow the only thing he can see in the room is you.
His greed is a threat to National Security. DEFCON Level 1.
His mouth ghosts yours. Barely registering Suguru encasing you from behind. Trailing his palms along your thighs.
“Safe word, princess.” Satoru maps every ridge, every teeth indent on that gorgeous bottom lip.
“For when you need to tap out.” Suguru augments Satoru’s command. Gentle nip at the tip of your ear and you moan. Bitten back and clipped.
“Such pretty sounds,” Shoko’s voice is distant. Breathy. Coated in Cabernet.
“I..don’t—”
Satoru slices your protest in half. Rolling your bottom lip under his teeth. Biting and licking his way across your pout. At the same time Suguru drops his mouth to your pulse point.
“Don’t what, sweetheart?” Suguru murmurs into your neck. A filthy fucking whine escapes your lips and Satoru’s fingers go to your nipple.
Hard. Pert and neglected. Desperate for attention.
Just like you.
The way you’re panting into Satoru’s mouth. Listless and loose, bending into Suguru’s presence behind you.
“He gave you an order, baby.” Suguru’s smile is so tender. Almost torturous against your oversensitive skin.
“Don’t…ah..don’t need a safe word.”
A weak declaration against Satoru’s kiss. Earning yourself a sharp twist of your sensitive buds. And gifting him a kitten squeal that makes his cock twitch.
“Ohhhh Suguru, Shoko. We have a brat on our hands.” He muses, hovering his lips over yours. Satoru pets the steel rod between his legs. Already dewy with his arousal.
You are so beautiful, trying to resist their coordinated touch. The sound of Suguru’s large hand palming your ass reverberates throughout the room.
“I’ll teach her some manners.”
Suguru’s voice trails down your spine. Slow and sickly sweet. Like maple sap dripping down tree bark mid spring. He caresses the hot sting from his spanking.
“I—I have manners.” Voice as small as your frame engulfed between the 6’3 counterparts.
“I won’t ask again, princess.” Satoru tilts your chin up to meet his gaze. And Suguru continues sucking kisses into your neck, marking his territory.
“Uh..mmm..god, S—“ Your eyes flutter closed. An earnest attempt to stay present. And not settle into the fuzzy, warm submission they are baiting you into.
“Safe word, now.”
“B—um. Blue? Blue.” Your resolve is about as rigid as cotton.
“Blue?”
“Well that’s not fair.”
Shoko and Suguru’s incredulous reactions intertwine with Satoru’s smug chuckle. A dusty rose high on your cheeks.
You know why you chose Blue. Everyone else does, too.
“Blue, huh?” Satoru presses a soft kiss on your lips.
“To match me? Noted, baby.”
Shoko melts into her couch. Her heartbeat rattles around her skull. With short, ineffective breaths that taste like full bodied red wine. Wet heat surges around her lace thong.
The way you’re writhing between her best friends’ hands is sinful.
Gazing up at Satoru like he is Vincent Van Gogh and the Starry Night above you is the product of his paintbrush.
Incoherent as if Suguru’s fingers put the Sun to bed. Whimpering his name like a prayer.
Adorable, girl.
God isn’t going to save you here.
The pads of Shoko’s cool fingers nearly sizzle against her puffy pleasure point. Slick coating her with just one, two, three long stripes against her sticky folds.
“God...fuck..bring her to me.” The grit in Shoko’s tone scrapes along her voice box. Matching the aggressive pace of her fingers against her needy cunt.
The boys lock gazes with their third. Cavalier smile tugging against Satoru’s lips. Suguru’s brow touches his hairline.
Ladies, first.
“You heard her.” Satoru snakes your arms around his neck and hoists you around his waist in one fluid motion.
“S—sato—“ He bullies his tongue back into your mouth. No more protesting, gorgeous.
Slow steps towards Shoko, so he can drink from your well. A sweet, delectable spell dripping from your lips. And if Satoru doesn’t wake up tomorrow morning after eating your forbidden fruit, then so be it.
Suguru lets himself watch you from a short distance.
His hand can’t stop rubbing his cock. Shamelessly tugging his heavy rod. Burning your little expressions into his mind’s safe. The way your eyebrows come together at the center whenever Satoru bites your bottom lip. Your desperate grabs for air against his relentless kiss.
“Hi, pretty.” Shoko drawls the moment Satoru settles you down on her lap. Her thigh digs into your soaked, gummy core. Glazing her skin with your drool.
“Hi, Sho.” Still panting from Satoru’s embrace. So fragile. A harsh breeze could shatter you to stardust. And Shoko pulsates around nothing.
One hand is firm on your hip. The other tracing mindless shapes on your chest. Leaving a poetic cascade of goosebumps in her wake.
Reflexively, you go to caress Shoko’s shoulders only to be caught by Satoru’s enormous grip. Whipping both of your wrists behind your back. While his other hand toys with the erection straining against his pants.
“She didn’t give you permission to touch, did she princess?” He drops his tone into the shell of your ear.
“Oh, I—“
“Manners, gorgeous.” A gentle reminder in between smearing kisses along your neck. Shoko hooks her index finger along your neckline. One tug and your mouth-watering tits come into full view.
“Fucking, hell.”
“God, baby.”
“Perfect…fucking perfect.”
Satoru, Suguru and Shoko’s praises crash into one another. God took his time with you. Sculpting a fucking masterpiece.
To be praised.
To be worshipped.
To be taken.
Used.
Filled.
“Shoko. I want to hear her.”
Suguru’s command is guttural. Fist snug around the base of his cock. Shameless about the tears of precum falling down his shaft.
Shoko’s fingers work their way down to your pulsing clit. You preen into her touch. Pretty, tiny gasps against her cheek.
“Let it out, baby.” Shoko coos into your ear. Thumbing little circles around your clit.
You bury your face into her neck. Delicious ache swelling between your legs. Grinding along her slender thigh. Honey seeping around your clothed cunt.
“S—sho, mmnngh..fuck..” Desperation fans Shoko’s neck. Bucking your hips with your hands restrained.
“There she is.”
Suguru’s fist slams to his hilt. Now close enough to cup your perky mound. Rippling and bouncing with every jolt. Feathering his finger over your pebbled bud.
The sudden touch and velvet voice above you drags your gaze upward.
And Suguru nearly cums in his hand right then and there.
Misty eyes, drool covered lips. Breathy pants. Angelic features rewritten by lust.
“Suguru?”
“Such a good girl. Keep fucking her thigh like that, baby.”
Throaty praise in return. Suguru rips his hand away from his angry length. Staving off his finish.
Not yet.
They’re not remotely close to being done with you yet.
“She’s so responsive.” Satoru chimes in. Releasing his grip on your wrists.
Your hands fly to Shoko’s face. Melding your mouth with hers. Leaking precious sounds, from your lips and your sopping wet core. His hand kneads your neglected breast, pinching your nipple every so often.
Satoru and Suguru palming at your tits. Shoko fucking your mouth with her tongue. You humping Shoko’s leg like a dog in heat.
It’s too much.
Wave after wave of pleasure crashes into your groin. You nestle into the crook of her neck. Grasping at her thick, brunette locks.
“S-sho, I’m close, I’m—mmgh..”
“It’s okay pretty,” Shoko husks. Her thumb at a perfect rhythm and pressure.
“You can cum, baby.” Suguru rasps, tugging at your nipple at the same time Satoru smacks the supple flesh he was petting.
“Oh fuck oh fuck—“
The delicious sting from their touches sends you over the edge. And the wire seated deep in your stomach snaps. Hips stuttering to an abrupt stop.
The room stills. Satoru, Suguru and Shoko studying your micro movements through your peak. So quiet that the walls have to lean in to hear you and your lovers breathing.
Six eyes laser into your body. Everyone’s appetite for you simultaneously tripling.
Satoru swipes the back of his hand across his mouth. Subconsciously aware of the pool of saliva forming. His manhood mirroring the trail of drool running down his mouth.
He’s always been a fan of dessert.
“I need to taste you.”
“And I need a front row seat.” Shoko nibbles at your cheek.
Satoru lifts and spins you around on Shoko’s lap in a matter of seconds. You, still gummy and compliant from your orgasm spread your legs weakly over Shoko. Earning you a chorus of praise from your lust-drunk lovers.
He drops to his knees. His blushing, weeping tip in hand. Pushing your sodden panties to the side. While Shoko cradles your thigh in her hand, holding you open for her best friend.
Your rose blooms in front of him. Dewy with your slick. Candied scent holding all of Satoru’s senses hostage.
“Look at how pretty, she is.” He breezes against your swollen pearl. Your petals quiver, and his dick leaks.
“S—Satoru..please.”
Satoru’s head is spinning. Entirely drunk off of the sight of you like this. Choking back his own pathetic groans.
His tongue licks a long stripe up your ripe folds. And your taste pollenates his mind for an eternity. An addict with his chosen vice.
Your hands magnet to his snowy halo. The melody you sing from his kisses and licks could sink any ship. Echoing in Satoru’s and Shoko’s groin.
Shoko is in a complete haze. Molesting herself numb at the way you undulate against Satoru’s eager tongue. Pitiful little mewls that are worthy of a platinum record.
“Feeling good, gorgeous?” Shoko eggs you on. Quickly sinking into her own threatened orgasm.
“Y—yes..mmgh so..god..” Paper thin squeals from your lips.
Crystals line your eyes in response to Satoru’s tongue fucking in and out of your pussy. Suckling your clit. Figures of 8, and 8 and 8 again until your mind is mush.
Except Suguru refuses to let you get lost at Satoru’s sea. He grips a handful of your hair, whipping your head in his direction.
Both you and Shoko tilt up to see Suguru’s driveling manhood at your eye level. Veiny, heavy. So clearly abused by his hand. Volcanic eruption in his hooded gaze.
“Hands on my cock, baby.”
Barely above a whisper, but somehow your body recognizes his authority.
And you seem genuinely shocked by your visceral obedience. Immediate acquiescence to Surguru’s will.
An approving grin teases Suguru’s lips. Your hands are comically small wrapped around his length.
God, he could split you in half.
Heavy eyelids from Satoru’s agonizing touch, you’re mystical. Gazing into Suguru’s eyes like his soul is nothing but an appetizer. Yours to swallow, digest, play with.
“Ask nicely.” Suguru grunts, as your eyes rake over his leaky cockhead. Longing for a taste.
Satoru and Shoko come to a hush. Her fingers slow. Satoru forces himself off of your folds. Somehow knowing the next words to roll off your tongue will shift their brain chemistry, permanently.
Palatial lashes fan your utterly fucked-out gaze. Swollen lips millimeters away from Suguru’s blunt tip.
“May I suck your cock, please?”
Filthy-nasty-dirty-fucking-vulgar noises fill the room, while you swirl Suguru’s cum covered head around your tongue.
“Fuck. Your lips baby.” He hisses, his hips piston into your pretty, accepting mouth.
“So messy, princess.” Satoru murmurs into your swollen cunt, slipping his fingers past your tight ringlet.
Beautiful gurgles around Suguru’s shaft. Crystalline streams of spit glazing your puffy tits.
You buck into Satoru at a similar, haphazard pace that he strokes his thick rod. Shoko sinks her teeth into your shoulder.
“G-gonna c..gonna—“ high pitched, broken warnings spill from your lips. Just as a blinding wave of electricity surges down Shoko’s legs — curling her pedicure inward.
“Come on, pretty girl. Cum for me.”
Suguru’s decadent baritone sends both you and Shoko over the hot edge. A cacophony of huffs and whines, coating the walls in your shared ecstasy. Spraying your essence all over Satoru’s face.
He’s slow to stand. Savoring remnants of your peak. He and Suguru exchange sordid glances. Sharing the same thought.
Pretty little doll.
Loose limbed and spent in Shoko’s lap. Hair mused. So deeply entrenched into sub space you’ll need to sleep it off of to come to your senses.
A work of art, you are.
But not quite broken, yet.
“It’s our turn now, little one.” Deep and measured. Thick with want. Suguru lifts you by your arms off of Shoko’s lap.
His back lays flush against the couch. You straddle his muscular lap. Satoru stands directly behind you.
Suguru’s manhood is rigid. You’d have to impale yourself on him to get any closer. Similarly, Satoru’s length makes itself very present along the curve of your spine.
“Look at me.” Satoru’s throaty demand comes from above your head.
Obedience is the only language you can currently speak, so you tilt back. Soaking in the celestial boy behind you. Closer to God than Man, from this vantage point.
“You want to taste yourself, baby?”
A rhetorical question from Satoru, but you still bobble your head in an eager yes.
“Such a desperate little puppy, aren’t you?” Suguru mocks you, taking one of your puffy nipples into his mouth.
“She is.”
Satoru affirms in between spearing your mouth with his warm muscle. Kissing the breath directly from your lungs until you’re air hungry and clawing at his neck. Leaving red streaks on his pale skin.
Shoko has since poured herself another glass of red wine. Settling herself on the long arm of her couch.
‘Far enough to drown into her own spiral. Close enough to register everything they do to you in the the most permanent part of her mind.’
Dèjá Vu.
But this lifetime? This reiteration of events? It’s fucking sublime.
Shoko’s lips curl into a cheshire smile against the rim of her glass. Hedonistic on every single level known to man and she wouldn’t have it any another way.
Her eyes flicker down to where Suguru’s hands are eclipsing your hips. And Satoru’s hands are cradled into the small of your waist. Hovering you over Suguru’s cock. The weapon of mass destruction that it is.
“Suguru…Suguru it won’t…” Beautiful little panic ascending in pitch.
“It won’t, what baby?” He teases. Eyes fixed on you like the apex predator he is.
Crimson erupts from the tip of your nose to the tips of your ears. Fluttering away from his quicksand gaze.
“What’s the matter, pretty? Don’t tell me you think you can’t handle—“
“I can handle it—I can…handle it.” You cut Satoru’s taunt down, convincing absolutely no one in the room— including yourself.
But the shred of pride you have left comes forward. Bracing your hands on Suguru’s flexed shoulders. Digging little crescent moons into his olive skin.
He can barely bite back the groan in his throat when your wet heat drags along his cockhead.
Twitching around your opening.
Feigning for entry.
“Go ahead, little one.”
“You can do it, baby.”
“Oh FUCK..GOD.” Your volume is nothing in comparison to the fire incinerating your plush walls. Stretching your womanhood in a way that’s ungodly.
Suguru is blinding.
Flashing lights. Black spots in the visual field. Floaters everywhere kind of blinding. The prior encouragement from your lovers did nothing to soften his blow.
Knowing this would be the result of you trying to work his inhuman length inside yourself, Suguru buries himself in one side of your neck. Satoru mirrors his action on the other side.
Gentle adoration. Tender kisses. Light caresses to dull the pain.
“Such a good girl.”
“I knew you could take it, princess.”
“You’re doing so well for me, pretty girl.”
Suguru rocks his hips in a slow, dreamy pace. Back and forth. Encouraging your body to reset around him. And the pressure. The delicious fucking fullness from his cock is mind numbing.
“R—ready.”
Barely loud enough to register. But Suguru could hear your red blood cells colliding with one another in your veins if you keep him next to you long enough.
“Eyes on me when I’m inside you, sweetheart.”
“Yes sir.”
The smile on his lips is no where near as tantalizing as the smile in his crushed velvet eyes.
And for a moment that is going to be on cinematic repeat in everyone’s mind — Suguru thrusts into you like a man trying to repopulate earth. Never once letting you break his eye-contact.
Melodic sounds of bodies smacking together ring throughout the room. Beautiful ripples of flesh, like soft waves during low tide. Your wet sex colliding with his. Him locking you into place because nothing else exists at this moment.
Both Satoru and Shoko’s jaws are slack. Satoru can’t even bring himself to stroke his length thrashing wildly in his hands.
This is hypnotizing.
A motion picture worthy of an Oscar.
You can feel Suguru recreating the shape of your soul. With each thrust. Deliberate. Deep. Ensuring that he will be a part of you, permanently.
“God, ngh Su—fuck..purple..” unintelligible words, incoherent sounds. You’re grasping at rescue from this pleasure.
“Hah..” Suguru’s serrated breaths kiss your lips. “Try again.”
“Suguru, please. I’m cu—I’m pink..pink.”
“Wrong color, princess.” Satoru’s husks above you. Tears of his thick cum streaming steady down his shaft.
Suguru’s bucks into you relentlessly now. Chasing the high you both are riding. Shredding what consciousness you have left. Not that you wanted it, not that you needed it.
“Fuck.”
Suguru’s hips come to a screeching halt. Floating over Shoko’s cushion. Painting your warm walls with his seed. With you filling his lap with your dew. Delirious, choppy intakes of air between your lips and his.
Momentarily forgetting your audience, you instinctively fall into his chest. Every single muscle in your body, suddenly without tone.
Satoru’s mouth is ajar.
Still not completely comprehending the fact that he just came — hands free — watching his best friend rail the conscious mind out of you.
“Blanket, Satoru.” Shoko quietly nudges from her position on the couch.
She can’t blame him for being stunned in place. Her mind is still reeling at the dessert her eyes just feasted on.
“Come here, baby.” Suguru murmurs. Working himself out of you, while Satoru drapes you in Shoko’s throw.
“Thank you.” A tiny chuckle escapes your lips. Cozying into Suguru’s arms. They should be proud of your manners.
And as if you said your cheeky thought out loud, your three lovers break into soft laughter.
“Wait here.” Satoru presses a chaste kiss to your damp forehead. Disappearing into Shoko’s bathroom a moment after.
A small sigh of relief tumbles out of her when she hears the familiar sound of bath water running.
Satoru must’ve done this before. Once or twice.
Suguru, too.
Judging by the way he’s whispering sweet affirmations in your ear. Lulling you to sleep. In his warm, safe embrace.
She’s never seen her friend like this.
“Girls! Bath time!” Satoru beckons from the bathroom.
His voice rustles you out of your post coital daze. Nestling deeper into the crook of Suguru’s neck. Shoko watches the way his eyes rest on your flushed face; stroking his hand along your arm. Intermittently pressing kisses along your hairline.
An enchanting, glass doll they were so eager to shatter just a moment ago.
“Ready, baby?”
Suguru murmurs into your ear. And Shoko just knows he’s hoping for a no. Silently praying for more time with you, pliant in his arms like this.
“Mmhm.” Your puffy lips curl up into a sleepy smile. Glossy-eyed, when you finally pull your heavy lids open.
Suguru’s breath catches in his throat.
Shoko’s heart rattles around its bony cage.
How do you do this?
How do you make it so easy to trip and fall so hopelessly in love with you with a bat of an eyelash?
“…I get it guys, but the water will get cold. And that would be a shame. Because this bath is, perfect.”
Satoru teases from the bedroom doorway. Startling Shoko and Suguru out of the trance you unintentionally put them in.
“You don’t have to carry me!” A half-protest bubbles from your lips when Suguru stands with you wrapped up in Shoko’s favorite blanket.
“Shhh, let me do this sweet girl.” He coos, for your ears only. Navigating around Satoru’s lean stature.
Shoko follows closely behind him, itching for her alone time with you.
“You’re going to let her feet touch the ground, Suguru?!”
Her sarcasm is followed by light-hearted laughter settling around your bodies.
The four of you in tandem like a world class orchestra. Shoko is already lamenting waking up from this dream.
“Not if I can help it.” Suguru sets you down on the kitchen sink. Nudging enough space for his muscular hips between your legs.
He cradles your chin in his hand. Taking as many butterfly kisses as you’ll allow.
“Mmm, goodnight, Suguru.”
His name rolls sweet and soft off of your tongue. Like a dark chocolate truffle, and suddenly Shoko wishes her name was Suguru.
Satoru does too. Judging by the way he yanks his counterpart away from you. His eyes caress your face before his hand does.
“How are you feeling, princess?”
Hushed and saccharine. Doting. As if a decibel too loud is akin to Hollow Purple. Circling his fingers around your thighs.
How foreign.
Shoko can almost taste Satoru’s concern. Attentive in a way that’s inconceivable.
From her vantage point, she watches you ensnare Satoru in those big, helpless doe eyes. Tempting him to fuck the living daylight out of you (again) but also handle you like a butterfly with a broken wing.
“Just a bit worn out, pretty boy.” Said with a dreamy little laugh. And Satoru would chase your voice into the clouds if he could.
He drapes your arms around his neck and you’re putty in his hands.
“Don’t look at me like that, baby.” He grazes the corner of your lips with his. A dull, insistent ache welling between Shoko’s legs.
You’re irresistible like this.
“Unless you want us to wear you out, again.”
“Satoru!” Your tiny, ineffectual fists slam against Satoru’s pecs. Making the trio even more fond of you.
Their muse.
“Alright boys, I can take it from here.”
Unhurried but finite, Shoko shoos her best friends out of the bathroom. Not before Satoru can steal one last kiss from your swollen lips.
In a matter of minutes Shoko is settled in a sea of warm, eucalyptus bubbles. The light sheen of essential oil grazing her skin, still glimmering with remnants of love-making.
Her eyes ride the dips and swells of your alluring lines.
Balmy skin decorated with lust-drunk imprints from Satoru, Suguru and herself. Hand prints. Tiny crescent moons from fingernails. Ellipses of bite marks. A kaleidoscope of red, blue, deep purple. Living, breathing residue of the desperation — the need — you so easily draw from them.
“Such a pretty girl.”
You flush under Shoko’s praise. Newly stroked desire bubbling in the back of her throat. You’re so full of averted gazes and warmed cheeks. Twiddling your thumbs. Tentatively shifting a few paces away from the bathtub.
So shy, now. It’s adorable.
“Come here, baby.” Shoko curls her fingers inward.
“Okay.” Your response high and thin. Feet moving without resistance.
Obedient little doll.
Shoko’s wet dreams couldn’t even come up with a vision this decadent. You’re an oil painting. Soft on the hands, even softer on the eyes.
You nestle in the warm waters between Shokos legs. Her nipples pebble against your supple flesh. Resting the back of your head on her chest. A lock-in-key fit.
Comfortable, serene quiet sheaths the room around you. And Shoko is soaring.
“I like you like this.” She presses a small kiss against your temple.
“Like what?” You whisper.
Shoko’s hands travel up your navel, cupping your sensitive tits. You arch into her touch. Kitten mewls escape you. So responsive.
“Soft.” Your nipples stiffen between her thumb and index finger.
“Vulnerable…a little broken.” Shoko continues. Catching your needy gaze. Pupils blown to full moons. She hovers her lips over yours. Already parted, hanging open. Ready to receive.
“Shoko.”
Such a beautiful, pitiful little whine. Tilting your chin up, chasing Shoko’s lips. But she maintains the minimal distance. Instead, kneading your mounds. Drawing a gorgeous melody of whimpers; squirming beneath her ministrations.
“I like being the one to put your pieces back together,” Shoko teases, dropping her tone. And you draw her in like a moth to flame.
Shoko’s lips slot into yours with ease. Puzzle pieces meant to fit. She swipes her tongue over yours. Nibbles along your puffy bottom lip.
You’re delicious.
And panting, when Shoko finally pulls away. Aurora borealis in your eyes. Sparkling. Expansive.
And even though you are putty in her hands right now. Docile and pliant, hanging on every brush of a finger, every kiss. Shoko is falling.
Free falling.
Without a safety stop in sight.
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(in your arms I find solace) — satoru g. ! angst + comfort
CONTENT ౨ৎ depressive themes⸝⸝doubt of self worth⸝⸝platonical best friends⸝⸝ brief of s2 spoilers
WORD COUNT ౨ৎ 1.8 k
satoru is tired, not the usual tiredness of a long day or dealing with curses, but just tired. every day seems the same. the routine starts to become too repetitive. wake up, go to mission, exorcise curses, go home and sleep. wake up, go to mission, exorcise curses, go home and sleep. wake up, wake up, think, stay in bed, and stare up at the ceiling lost in thought. he thought he could smile his pain away but you could see your best friend was losing an internal battle with himself.
he always brushes other people’s concerns and plays off whatever’s bothering him as a joke, he doesn’t want to burden them with his problems. they have enough on their plate so why should he add more to theirs? he’s the strongest, the strongest shouldn’t crumble down, be vulnerable talk about their problems, and become a burden.
he’s the strongest right? then why does it hurt so much? that’s how he found himself in your arms, “I feel terrible… almost empty” his voice small and barely auditable. your silence was oddly comforting, your solemn silence being a sort of comfort for Satoru’s troubled mind. “… I know” you whispered holding onto him, your voice matching his small one. “I know you are satoru..”
“wanna talk about it ?” the invitation was so warm and inviting, of course, he wanted to talk about it. he was to break down into your arms and cry about the void inside of him, how it’s all becoming so repetitive, how tired and exhausted his body is. he just wants to break down and never leave your arms, but he just can’t. something inside him is holding satoru back from saying he needs help and that he’s not fine, he never was.
he wanted to say something but just groaned in vexation burying his face into his pillow. his body was hot and slightly trembling, he was fighting back the urge to cry. you frown when nothing satoru’s trembling shoulders and the sharp inhale he takes to calm himself down. slowly yet gently you wrap your arms around his body pulling him into your arms, rubbing his back as well as placing a small kiss on his temple.
without saying a single word, he reached back to place his arm around his best friend in return — satoru tried to suppress his tears as he buried his head into your shoulder. the tension in his body gradually faded till he could finally rest and give in to his feelings. he silently cried, finally expressing the bottled-up emotions.
you held onto him tighter bringing your hand up to his hair, comforting him with small circles, and the other hand holding onto his back, both of your legs tangled up together. kissing his temple once again, resting your head on his, you whispered reassurance and comfort into his ear.
tears slowly stopped flowing as his emotions stabilized at a leisurely pace thanks to your comfort — he remained in the comfortable position, feeling a soothing sensation every time your fingers ran through his hair, lighting massaging his scalp — the warmth of your lips on his temple was a welcome distraction to him.
despite being comforted by your presence, satoru’s expression remained solemn. he turned his head to look at you, your foreheads touching with the tip of your noses facing each other. his gaze was full of affection, but also one that sought understanding. his ocean-colored eyes held so much depth, as if he’d been stuck with this void for a long time and carried that burden like a heavy rock.
satoru’s lips parted to release a sigh, "I want you to know..." he whispered staring into your eyes. “yes satoru? what is it ?” you asked while your own eyes were filled with understanding and warmth. "there’s so much that I want to tell you... I'm so tired of pretending that everything is alright." he paused for a moment before continuing," and.. I'm... so .. I’m lost.. all the time," he confessed, his voice was barely audible, even with you close to hear him. he continued, "I'm just... so sad. it’s all repetitive.. and I’m tired of it.”
gently lifting your hand to caress his cheek you shush him quietly, “shh … shh.. I’m here..” you kept your gaze on your best friend knowing he’s so close to breaking down again. after the events of riko, the fight with toji and losing suguru; not noticing his spiral, the village he burned, the blood he spilled, his other best friend was now gone and just a memory.
“I'm here for you, Satoru... I’m not going anywhere.” your voice was filled with reassurance hoping to ease his troubled thoughts and emotions. opening his eyes, his voice trembled, "I need you..." he was growing more vulnerable now his walls crumbling, he hesitated before uttering into his ear, "I don't want to lose you." while a tear ran down his cheeks as he spoke.
the white-haired teen was genuinely afraid of losing your friendship, especially after so many people already left his life. “promise me you'll stay with me ... even if everything goes wrong. promise me... we'll both be together.” his eyes were desperate, and his heart ached to want that reassurance from you.
slowly you lean up to kiss the tip of his nose and forehead before nodding, “always.. in the bad and good .. I’ll be by your side satoru” That was a promise between the two of you, in the comfort of each other’s arms and inside the room. satoru’s lips twitched before giving you a small smile. it was his turn to kiss you back as a thank you for the comfort, first, he started with your forehead, then went to the side kissing your left temple, both of your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally one on your chin; “thank you..” he whispers out hugging you once more. he found solace in your arms and the promise you two made. together in the good and bad …
#. ( six eyes mark )#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen gojo#jujutsu kaisen angst#satoru gojo angst#jjk angst
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Hello! Welcome to Chapter 3.1 of CD&FE.
Pairing: Jake X Female Reader
18+ Only! Heavy adult situations ahead.
Summary: This is an AU that starts with the release of GVF’s first EP, Black Smoke Rising, and follows along life paths over the course of twenty plus years. Part 3.1: Another time jump, nearly two full years. One word summary - time.
Content warnings: Language, smoking, drinking, sexual situations. Oh so much sex in this one. Oral, anal play, masturbation (m), talk of birth control.
Word Count: approx. 7.5K
Once again, a huge thank you to @edgingthedarkness and @takenbythemaddness - they really are the best. *mwah*
CD&FE, Part 3.1, Her POV
“Be safe,” he said, his mouth hovering just over mine but not crossing the microspace that would land those lips to me in the way I so very wanted him to.
“Yeah,” I answered, unable to hide the hitch in my chest. “Don’t do anything stupid, please.”
I heard them calling his name from the doors. Time was up. He dropped his chin and began to retreat. A knot the size of the state seemed to appear in my chest as he took a look over his shoulder to yell back he’d be right there. I watched as his chest expanded. He was struggling the same as I was. I worried bites into my bottom lip as he brought his hand to my face, the pad of his thumb crossing my lip to get me to stop.
“I will see this beautiful face again,” he said, all of his heat radiating out to blast across my frame and envelop me in all of him.
I watched him smile down a hard swallow before he turned away and disappeared into the world beyond…
~20 Months Later~
I had been sitting in meetings all day and my legs ached with every minute. I was no longer a team leader, having been promoted to management and editing designer. I oversaw several teams. I was good at my job. I had built a reputation that was solid and had a talent that was sought out by established clients as well as new faces to our company. Yes - our. I had shares in this place now, and having actual stakes in the game was driving me towards goals I never thought I would ever entertain as possible.
I would be lying if I said I didn’t date. I would be a bold faced liar if I said I didn’t date often. I was by no means sleeping with all of them, but it was like I had an appetite that Jake had left me with that could not be quelled. At first, he sent random assed texts of greetings. Almost like he didn’t know what else to say. But what was worse was the silence that followed. Perhaps I was trying to fill that void. I met a lot of nice people. I had sex with a wide variety of those people. None of them, however, were him. At the end of it all, my skin did not call out to any of them. My words may have thanked them kindly, but my thoughts were always away.
I was listening to pending fiscal needs as my eyes drifted closed. I could still hear his sounds. I could still feel the way he moved within me, sans condom. I could still fucking smell him at times. What a way to live. To have Jake Kiszka haunting your ass at all times of the day and night.
It was a rainy day in April. The wind would whip against the tall windows with a crash, sending everyone in the little conference room a jolt of surprise. I felt a notification vibrate in my phone and I thanked whatever god there was to excuse myself to handle whatever the situation could be on the other end. Secretly, I was hoping it would be bad enough to keep me out of the rest of the meetings of the day. I trailed into my office before I unlocked my phone, sliding behind my desk and bringing my screen to life before actually looking at the text.
Jake.
.
I sat back in my chair with a heavy sigh.
.
Jake: If I were to fly into the city in a few days, would you be there?
.
Really? My eyes roll to the back of my head. This man’s timing was… Goddamnit.
.
I returned to my meetings like a big girl and prayed that the rest of the day would go quickly. Finally - we wrapped closer to six pm than I would’ve liked, but I was my kind, professional self, putting away all my shit and double checking my schedule for the next day before grabbing my light trench and bag and waved as I strolled out the door. I met Patty and his professor friends for drinks and a light dinner. It felt good to just fade into the background, letting Patty carry the conversation and just soak up his presence. After my last run in with Jake, he had listened to me lament. He had listened to me attempt to explain what was between me and that man. He just teased me, but let me lean on him despite not truly understanding what the hell was wrong with his dearest friend.
At home, I ran a bath. Something I had not done since Jake had run one for us. The little book of poems was still on the bath tray.
“Claim me your safe harbor, and I will ever be faithful.”
I sucked in a trembling breath as I dropped my robe and stepped into the heavily scented water. I tugged the tray towards me to set my phone down. I had wondered for weeks if that line had been a misstep on his part. If he had not meant to say it, but in the moment, could not help it to pass through his mouth. The corners of my lips turned down. No. Not a misstep. We had shared so much - kept our words honest. My heart constricted just as it had when he said those words. I wanted to repeat them right back. I wanted to whisper and shout them and sing them if I had to, for there was nothing more true than that statement.
“Fuck,” I sigh as I unlocked my phone to look at the message once more.
It was almost eerie - the timing of the text. The timing of his availability was…
I open the text to respond, weighing my words carefully.
.
Y/n: I’m leaving for vacation.
.
I sent it. I set the phone back down and rested back. There was no way he would get back –
.
Jake: With a partner?
.
Y/n: No. Alone.
.
I bit into my upper lip. I wasn’t meaning to be evasive, but seriously. I got nearly a month off a year, plus more time for holidays. I treasured this time. And yes - most of these vacations, I was fucking alone.
.
Jake: Where are you going?
.
He was about to discover something new about me and I wasn’t sure if he would like it. Fuck. I blew out my cheeks as I typed into the phone.
.
Y/n: North. Cottage near Duluth.
.
The three little dots danced as he typed a reply. Those dots stopped. They started again. Then stopped - again.
.
Jake: No Patrick?
.
Y/n: Alone means alone.
.
Jake: Sounds
.
I grimaced at the text. It was obviously not finished. I waited. The bathwater was getting cold. I waited another five minutes before I set the phone back safely on the tray and got out with a shiver. Just as I was wrapping my fuzzy robe around me, my phone was blaring out that ring and I let it go for nearly a full cycle before I answered.
“Would it be rude if I said I would like to invite myself on your little getaway?” he said after I uttered my hello.
“Yes,” I responded, grabbing a towel for my hair and drifting out of the bathroom.
I grin at his laugh. I made my way to the living room and took my spot on the couch, feet up on the coffee table.
“Where is this cottage, if I may be so bold,” he pressed, sounding like he was walking.
“North of the city with a pretty view of Island Lake and just a few miles from the big water.”
He hummed. “Why are you going alone?”
“I thought you wanted to join me?”
“Tease.”
It was my turn to laugh, and I did, feeling his smile cross through the phone. “I discovered a few years ago that I like taking my vacations alone. I don’t have to answer to anyone unless I want to.”
There is silence on the other end, but I can hear him still moving at a brisk pace. The idea of having more than a few hours with him was filtering through my brain and I could not find the words that would convey that interest.
“Okay, out with it. What are you doing?” I asked after I pulled the phone away to glare at the huffing on the other end.
“I’m trying to make a flight.”
“Home?”
“You.”
My lips parted as I inhaled sharply.
“I’m leaving London now. I have a layover in Boston then into Minneapolis.”
My gut sank. On one hand, he was taking a chance that I would even be in town when he arrived, but on the other, he just kind of assumed I would be able to even see him - unattached. Ouch.
“How long do you have?” I found myself asking, leaning forward.
I hear him suck his breath through his teeth. “Weeks. We’re on break for the next month.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. Time. The one thing we’ve never had. My core whimpered at the thought of actual time. “How does a cottage on a lake sound? I’ve got it for ten days.”
I heard a soft curse pass across the phone, but there was a smile attached to it. Then there was another curse, this time it was a bit rougher. “My flight gets in at after eleven Friday night. When do you leave?”
“Saturday morning,” I said quietly, knowing right well it would be closer to midday before I’d get my packing done and head out the door.
“I’ll be there.”
I had taken Friday off to make sure I would pack, easing into my nearly fifteen days off. I had Joni Mitchell playing in the background as I checked in with the family. Patrick stopped by with lunch. We were sitting at the kitchen table when my phone chimed with Jake’s notification. He looked at my phone on the other side of the room and back to me as I just focused on my coffee between my fingers.
“Work?” he asked.
“Why would you say that?” I asked back, rocking from side to side on my stool.
“Because you’re always working,” Pat grumbled, before looking up at me. He turned his body towards me, his eyes holding a wicked gleam and a smile that matched. “Who the fuck are you taking with you? I thought you were going alone again.”
“I was going alone,” I replied as I moved to get the phone. “Now, I’ll have some company.”
“Fun company?”
I raised my eyebrow as I looked down at the phone. I couldn’t help the grin that hit, nor the flush that painted itself on my cheeks.
“Only one man that does that to you,” Patrick said with a pair of hand slaps to the counter.
“Yep,” I sighed, rereading the words that he would be at my doorstep before midnight.
My eyes fixed onto the time - shit. That meant less than twelve hours. I had butterflies all over the place and my dear friend could feel each one of them from across the room. His eyes fucking sparkled at me. SPARKLED. Bastard.
“You’ll be careful, right?” he said as he was getting his stuff together. “I mean - still let me know when you’re heading out. It’d be a shame if he killed you out on the water or in the woods or something.”
I rolled my eyes. That was our deal - every vacation alone, anytime I headed out to do anything, I sent him a text on my way out and he’d expect one when I was safe. It got him though knowing I was alone in the great wide world. Got me through, too, knowing I had some kind of safety net.
“I think you just like taking your breaks at this time knowing that I can’t leave during this point in the term,” he grumbled.
“Well, if you worked in the real world like a normal grown up…”
I watched as he left with a hug and a wave, with a last second whorish comment to get under my skin in his playful way. I stood before my wall of albums and picked a Beatles album before heading back to the bedroom to dig out my luggage. There were a few delays with calls from work. I redirected or took care of issues accordingly before getting back to my task at hand. I did call the cottage owners to inform them that there would be a second guest, instead of just me. I knew there would be a tiny extra cost, but honestly… Who the fuck cared if Jake was the second guest.
I debated just how much I wanted to take. It was more like what I wanted to take that was tripping me up. Alone - it would have been easy. But now… Did I want to take anything pretty, lacy, frilly, slutty… I opted for simple instead. Sort of. Of course I had to take something little and sheer and a touch pretty.
I made the round of phone calls to family before tucking into putting the finishing touches on the packing and putting everything by the door to just be ready to go. I combed through the kitchen, eating up the last few leftovers to be rid of them before tucking in with a book and a movie. Jake had texted that he would get an uber over to the house. My eyes kept darting over to check the time, feeling like it was reversing instead of getting closer to the midnight mark. I was just beginning to drift, warmed through by my favorite throw blanket and lulled by the outro music of the movie when there was a knock on the door. I tried to focus on the time that was on the phone, but it felt like my eyes were crossing with exhaustion. How the hell had I missed a few hours when the minutes were just dragging by a few moments before?
The soft knock came again as I rammed my shin into the coffee table. I blurted out a sharp curse as I tried to maintain my feet. I grimaced, knowing that the strike would cause a mark. I fumbled to the door, sure I looked frightening and not the sexy kitten that he was perhaps expecting. Yeah. Not this night, precious.
I opened the door to find a very tired, handsome man with a sleepy smile and a mustache. I reached for him and he pulled me close. What was it about him that caused me to melt and swoon and feel like all the armor that I needed to keep in place to keep me safe disappeared without hesitation or care. His mouth brushed against mine before landing in heat and passion. Every molecule of me was lit on fire as he wove his fingers into the back of my t-shirt to be as close to me as possible. It was as if no time had passed from our last encounter.
I tugged him over the threshold to close the door and he pressed me into the wall with a groan after he set his guitar case to the side. He gave me just enough room to look into his face, really look and take in the weariness of his eyes but the light that he harbored there. Just for me. I couldn’t help but to touch his face, to keep my hands on him like he would disappear if I let him go. He seemed to be feeling it as well as his hands ghosted over my arms, my waist, my cheeks, as he planted tiny, welcoming kisses to my lips.
He finally said a raspy ‘hello’ as he started to slide his backpack from his shoulders. I frown at the fact that all he is carrying is said backpack and guitar case.
“Do you not have anything else to take along?” I asked as he tucked the pack in next to my bags.
“Nope. I may have to stop and get a few things. Most of my stuff is home already,” he said as I took him by the hand into the living room to turn off the tv.
“Hungry?” I asked as he pulled back close to him.
“No,” he whispered against my cheek. “Shower and a bed sounds perfect right now.”
I hummed against his skin as leaned back into me. “Why don’t you go shower and I’ll meet you in bed.”
He grinned as he pointed down the hall as if he right well did not know where he was going. Jake might’ve only been in my home once, but those hours were spent well in my room. I watched as he seemed to drag himself to get his pack and head where he wanted to go. I cleaned up my nest and grabbed a couple glasses of water. By the time I locked up and had lights out, he was standing under the spray in my bathroom. I ducked in to brush my teeth and wash my face. All the while, I was breathing in the smell of his soap, his shampoo. I stripped down to just the t-shirt and undies and turned down the bed.
He was toweling his hair when he appeared in nothing but his boxer briefs. I was snuggled down and drowsy as I took him in. Soft in all the right places. Toned in all the favorite spots. Lord, that man’s thighs flexed as he turned back to finish out his sopping wet hair. I might have drooled a bit at the sight before me. He reached for his water with a ‘thanks’ when he returned. He slid in between the sheets and reached for my frame to draw close.
“Would you be insulted if I said I just want to make out and fall asleep with your tongue in my mouth?” he asked with a smile.
“Sounds dangerous,” I quipped as I pretended to think about it.
I didn’t have to think too hard though, he rolled me back and invaded my space in the most tender way. God, I loved how this man kissed me. I loved his taste and how he touched me when he kissed me. Yeah. Making out and sleep sounded like a good plan.
Waking to Jake is an otherworldly experience. Sure, I had woken to plenty of lovers in my bed across the years. But I had only woken to Jake once. To look at him, lips parted to emit soft snores and his features completely relaxed is a whole different kind of pretty. I couldn’t help but to lean in and kiss his forehead before I got up to head to the bathroom. Relieved and teeth brushed, I was brushing my hair when I saw Jake moving in the room behind me. There was no way he could hide the huge bone in his underwear as he walked behind me. I watched as he hooked his thumbs into the thin fabric and walked out of them without stopping.
“Good morning,” I managed as he grabbed hold of my hips and ground into my bottom. “I see someone got some good rest.”
“I’ve missed seeing this ass,” he whispered into my hair. “Look at how beautiful you are, Y/n. Look at how beautiful you make me feel when you’re like this.”
I watched as he drew his one hand around to the front of my hip, dragging my shirt up over my breasts in one long pass. Shirt was discarded immediately as he wrapped one arm around my middle to nuzzle down into my neck.
“May I fuck you this fine morning?” he asked, sucking and lapping at whatever skin he could reach.
“If you don’t, I’m going to leave you here during my vacation,” I growled as he started to crouch down, tugging my panties down with him.
My hands came to rest on the counter as he bit into my ass cheeks, soothing the marks with gentle kisses, only to bite once more. He parted my legs with one hand and swiped my folds with the other.
“Fuck, you’re already that wet for me?” he asked before sliding his tongue across me for a taste.
“Jake,” I gasped as he lapped a second and third time. “Just in. Get that fucker into me now.”
I was quick to shove everything on the counter to the side as he pulled my hips back. His hand threaded through my hair and pressed me down to open all the way for him. There was no question I was about to be pounded. I heard the tear of a condom wrapper and felt the corner of my mouth curl. He was nothing if not consistent. I turned my eyes to the mirror to watch that man become unhinged as he slid his length into my dripping pussy. The jaw drop, the lips pulled tight across his teeth, the fucking eyes turning into smoldering pools of lust made my core suck his cock deep within me and hold on for pure joy.
My body knew - he was not going to last long this first time. I needed to soak up every second that he could give me. His fingers were digging into my flesh in a near painful grasp as he slammed his dick in as deep as I would allow. He was already twitching and pulsing, his breath hitched with each strike.
“Pet that clit, baby,” he demanded, our gaze meeting as he ground into me.
I struggled to get space enough to reach down, but god, the moment I touched, he swiveled in such a way that made a sound escape my throat that sent instant color to my cheeks. He did it again and again, that same move as I jacked my hard clit off. It didn’t take much before I was afraid my legs were going to give way and I was coming undone around him. He let out a barrage of grunts as his thrusts became erratic.
“Give it to me,” he said, his voice full of strain. “Fucking mark me.”
I looked into those eyes and I was forcibly shoved into a realm that was not my own. My mouth dropped open as my breath carried out every ounce of my pleasure. I could feel my cum dripping down my thighs as he let out a near animalistic hiss. He came hard into me, jolting my body once more into a euphoric state that held me in a grip tighter than anything I had felt before.
He landed sloppy kisses against my spine as we slowly came down from our highs. I felt the moment he fell from my cunt and whimpered over the loss. He breathed out a warm laugh as I struggled to regulate my breathing under him.
“Damn, I almost forgot how good we are at that,” he remarked as he reached for the drawer that held the washcloths.
I found it endearing that he remembered where everything was in the bathroom. We were slow to clean up, holding on to each other with gentle touches and warm kisses. We skated out of the house with to-go cups of coffee and bags in the car. I snapped a picture of us at the car to send to Patrick to let him know we were on our way. His comment, of course, was all about big dicks and wet cunts. What a slut.
We stopped at one of those big box outdoor sports stores so that he could get a few flannels, an actual coat because it was going to be cold on the lake, and hiking boots. He also asked to stop at the bookstore, since he laid eyes on my few books that I was taking for quiet time. He walked out with three titles that made my eyes roll. Pirates, history and snooze seemed to be the topics of the day. We got on the I-35 and took off like a shot. Traffic was already thinned by those looking to get away from the cities, so it was an easy drive to Duluth. We stopped for essentials at the grocery, forming a loose menu for a few days. To see him in such a domestic setting was different. It wasn’t that I didn’t know him, but at the same time, I really did not know anything of him being out in the actual world. It was a strange realization to strike when looking at produce.
There was no hesitancy, however, in actually being with this person I could only describe as a near-stranger. We had fucked. We had fucked hard and passionately. We had shared honest words of feelings. But had we actually been out on a date - a real one where we actually dress to impress the other and pretend to eat a dinner but can’t because of the butterflies in our stomachs? Had we shared space with nothing happening between us?
No.
No, we had not.
And yet. Here we were about to spend ten days with no one else around.
Ah.
There were the butterflies;
As if on cue.
With the shopping done, I brought up the directions once more to follow out to Island Lake. Jake was quiet. I wondered if he was feeling apprehension. Or maybe excitement. God, I hoped he was feeling the excitement that I felt beginning to prickle and simmer in my own bones. Turning off the interstate to the two lane highway was enough to set my skin to jumping with anticipation, but to turn off the highway to an unmarked, barely there road with snow that was still clinging to the ditch-line made me smile. In fact, many of the evergreens were still holding tiny lines of snow frosting and ice. It was a fading winter wonderland and it was beautiful.
The small cottage was on the island portion of Island Lake. We had to navigate across a one lane bridge and through some seriously dense woods, but there it was - all wood sided with cream white trim and a rich green roof. The deck had been cleared of snow, as had the lower deck that was closer to the water’s edge. I couldn’t hide the smile as I parked. It was like my whole face was buzzing with electricity.
“This is…” Jake’s voice was hushed as he shifted in the seat. He was leaning forward, sunglasses pushed to the top of his head, eyes taking everything in. “This is lovely. Perfect.”
“It’s way better than where I was this time last year. That place - I actually left two days in it was so bad. Should we go inside to get the lay of the land first, or should we go ahead and get our bags and drag everything in?” I asked, rubbing my hands together as the heat of the car was already fading.
“Why don’t we get the lay of the land first. Everything should be fine out here,” he said with a smile.
“I’m hoping that it’s as pretty inside as it is on the outside,” I replied as I pushed open my door before bracing for the cold wind that was skating through the air to greet us.
I pulled up the cottage key on my phone that had been sent to me as Jake shivered without his coat, but patiently waited. I quietly apologized for not having it ready ahead of time, but pushed the door open and waved him in first to get out of the cold. To say we both froze at the entrance would be accurate. Inside was better than the outside, wrapped in clean lines of natural wood, the softness of quilts and fuzzy blankets, and it all seemed to be something out of a damn greeting card.
The kitchen was not big, but functional. There was a tiny dining room that flowed into the small living room. Floor to ceiling windows framed the lake view while the walls were wrapped in light washed wood that held pictures and artifacts of the region. There was a fireplace and a small tv that rounded out the comfy living space. The bedroom sent nothing but cozy vibes through me with its king sized bed, a heavy denim quilt over the top that was lined with dusty red flannel and more than enough pillows to sink into. The small bathroom was fine and functional. Guess the bathroom sex at home was to be it for the vacation. Oh well.
We wrestled our bags and groceries in, putting everything away before falling onto the couch together. I felt like my eyes were falling closed before I even fully settled down into the lush, cozy cushions. Jake threaded his fingers through mine. I looked over at him and sure enough, his eyes were shut with his head resting back on the pillows. I felt the smile bubble up from my gut as I reached over and booped his nose before I could stop myself.
“Oh my god, you didn’t just,” he grumbled, grabbing hold of me and swinging me around so that we were horizontal on the cushions. I might’ve squeaked more than a little bit as he tickled my ribs until he wrapped around me to hold me still. “There. Trapped. What’cha gonna do now, little mouse?”
He had me totally immobilized: arms around my torso and arms, legs around my hips and thighs. And it felt good. Too good. I raised up the best that I could and looked down into his playful expression. Jake was one of those men who just had it. He could probably be way less handsome, but still make anyone believe that they were hot shit just due to his charisma, his grit, and most of all his confidence. He was by no means arrogant, but he knew himself, knew what he offered to anyone at any given time. With no way to really move anything, I grinned and captured his lips in between my own. He did not instantly let go until I started to feel myself melt into him, deepening the kiss until we were both struggling to catch our breaths. He hummed against my cheek as I nuzzled into his neck, finally able to bring my hands up to thread into his hair.
“Hello,” he purred before tugging my lip into his mouth once again.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I said simply.
“I’m glad you invited me,” he replied, tucking my hair behind my ear.
I laughed as I had to worm my way down his body in order to get my feet under me. I put an over the top kiss to his exposed tummy before I pushed myself away. I was rewarded with a groan as he tried to swipe for me once more.
“So, confession time,” I said as I fixed up a glass of water.
“That sounds ominous,” he returned as he walked towards the kitchen.
I paused to take a drink, my eyes on him like he was in for it. “I’m not one of those people who have to have something to do every day of vacation. In fact, I need a few days of just nothing.”
His brow furrowed for a long moment, eyes turned down as if he was thinking about what I said. “No four am wake up calls for a ten mile hike before breakfast? No driving like an idiot at high rates of speed to not be late for a scheduled guided tour? No…”
“No. Well. At least not every day.” I watched as he processed the words. “Is that okay? I mean, I don’t even have anything scoped out yet. I was just hoping to ease into things up here.”
I watched as his body physically relaxed. “Sounds perfect. Everything on tour is measured and scheduled and regulated. Even downtime is planned and timed on a fucking calendar.”
I blew out a breath that I was holding. “So, tomorrow it would be all right if we just stayed in? Read a little, cook a little?”
“Fuck a little,” he sighed with a devilish grin. “I like it.”
I dug out my little set of Bluetooth speakers and ran some music on my phone while he started to dig around the kitchen. To watch him cook was sexy. His eyes moved over what was available and his hands just settled into what needed to be done. He told me to sit and start to figure out what we wanted to do on full day two - perhaps something on the water? Wasn’t there a cute little zoo? I accepted a rich glass of wine from him as he bent down to kiss my mouth.
The scene was very domestic. There was no denying it. It was a feeling that I could get used to all too easily with him. I found a few things that might be interesting, more than a few art museums, of course, the big mansion run by the university, tours of all sorts… My eyes skirted back to the man that was working to feed me and I caught him with a grin looking back at me.
“Is this weird?” he asked before taking a sip of his wine.
I shrugged. “I don’t know about weird. It feels like… I don’t know. But it’s not weird.”
“Somehow that leaves me more confused,” he snorted a soft laugh.
Huge, predatory bird sized butterflies attacked my chest as I looked across the rim of my glass at him. Fuck. The moment was calling for us to be actual real humans towards each other. We were good at that. At least in those moments after the high of sex had worn down to a simmer, and honesty was the only path that would bring a smile to either of us.
“In trying not to sound like a professional asshole here,” I started, feeling like I was about to jump out of my skin, “I, um… I think this is where we get to actually know each other, yeah? I mean, we’ve talked childhood stuff. School stuff, too. Family shit and friends. But all of it was just the starting stuff.”
“All right. Then tell me about your job. Let’s start there.”
“My job?”
“Yeah. Makes up a lot of your time. I have no clue what you actually do…”
I couldn’t help the big eye pop but settled in, moving to the end of the counter to be closer to him as I tried to explain what I did. He asked a few questions here and there - especially when I said that I was a full partner in the company. He had not realized that I had gotten a promotion. I explained that I was not just leading teams on projects, but actively seeking and hosting new clients, as well as having final say on the directions of projects. Those projects were no longer just venue based. I was working with much larger clients. Yes. I was doing well. I had worked my ass off for it though.
I slipped in behind him as he was working on the cooktop, sauteeing veggies. I figured why not clean up as he cooks - less to do after. I felt him take a quarter step back, just to move nearer as he was talking about the next direction of a pending album. Although most of the tracks were already written, they were still working on an overall concept before lyrics and then stitching together the whole show to the music. He was being vague, but that was fine. I just honestly enjoyed hearing him talk about his process. He was trying to describe going from these huge sonic movements to something a little bit - simpler, less amplified.
“Accustic, then,” I snarked as I continued doing dishes.
He leaned further back into me, our backs lining up to press against each other. He merely turned his face a fraction and was able to brush his lips against my shoulder. I dared to look into the depths of those eyes and felt an instant wave of swoon that overtook the air in my lungs. He pressed his mouth to mine in a fleeting kiss. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t ever enough, was it? He leaned in and I savored the taste of wine on his tongue with a deep hum in my chest. Before I could stop myself, I reached up and around him with dripping hands, getting us both wet. My back arched as he deepened the kiss hungrily. He turned to pull me flush against him, shoving his tongue deep into my mouth with a husky growl.
Both hands landed on his ass as he blindly pushed the hot pan off the heat and turned off the burner before walking me out of the kitchen. “I’m not so hungry for food,” he whispered before our kiss crashed back together.
He pawed at my sweater, fingers tugged at the hem while I made quick work at his t-shirt. Skin. Hot, supple skin beneath my fingers set a wave of lust between my thighs that sent shockwaves through my entire system. Yeah. This was what…
Jake pulled at my leggings and I shimmied to give him a bit of assistance. Fuck this man could kiss me like no other - setting loose a raving lunatic whose sole purpose was to be fucked silly. Clothes were gone for both of us and he lifted me to the edge of the table. He paused briefly as if seeing if the table was where he needed me to be. Our eyes met with a naked fervor. He fell to his knees before me, hooking his arms under my thighs to pry them as wide as I would allow.
“I crave…” he whispered as he planted a kiss on the inside of my knee. “No one is like you. I fucking crave you…”
I watched, mouth hanging open as he dug his tongue into my exposed folds like a man starved. For a long moment, I wondered if I had heard him correctly, but then… fucking magic and all thoughts turned to pixie dust as he devoured my cunt. It was not that I had forgotten how he did this to me. How he seemed to turn me into some kind of fluid with the consistency of jelly that he could manipulate to his whim. It was more like how I had to deliberately forget how he did this so I could enjoy much lesser mortals trying to replicate his man’s mouth and fingers.
Just as I began to quiver under his touch, he turned and sunk his teeth into the flesh of my thigh. I might’ve blurted out a curse as he laughed to catch my attention once more. I reached for his face but he retreated just enough to keep out of touch. The corner of his glossy lips curled up as he swiped a finger down through my folds.
“Is it still fuck any hole?” he whispered before placing a soothing kiss to the inflamed skin that he marked only moments before.
I hummed as I bent over him. He tilted his face towards mine enough that I could skate my tongue across his mouth. He let out a pussy scented breath as I landed a kiss to his brow.
“May I fuck any hole for you?” I asked before plunging my tongue deep within his mouth like it was a cock - pressing in and out with a pace that made him groan.
His hands wrapped around my thighs and gave my whole body a bounce as he struggled against my kiss. “I’d never say no to you. Now if I can get back to my meal,” he whispered as I nibbled at his puffy lip.
With a firm hand, he pushed me all the way back to lay flat on the table. I expected him to go right in once more, but instead sat back on his heels, eyes squarely on my pussy. He traced the lines and folds and dips and velvet of my all. I could feel my legs begin to tremble with anticipation once more as he rested his head against my knee. He swirled a finger at my core before dipping it down to my back entrance. I heard a soft hum escape him as he finally began to move, leaving a trail of tiny, wet kisses against my thigh that led right to my clit once more. He was killing me with his talents and he knew it. I came hard but he ignored my recoil, opting to lap across all my intimate parts as I cooled. He brushed his cum glazed fingers across my belly and found purchase as I threaded my own fingers with his to hold tight.
In the stillness, I heard it. I started to sit up, but he held me down. “Jake,” I groaned, tipping my chin up to the ceiling. “Just fuck me already…”
He was sliding his hand over himself as he jacked himself while on his knees. “Don’t wanna lose the view.”
He leaned forward again, tongue out to send me back over the edge. To know he was getting us both off with those hands… fuck. I let his hand go and he immediately returned it to my core, sliding three fingers in to coax a groan that made my whole body flush. I was desperate to see his face, but could only catch glimpses of the curve of his cheek or his hairline as he began to become unhinged against me. He curled his fingers as I heard his pace quicking on himself.
“Give me one more,” he grunted thickly against me.
The vibration was enough to begin my withdrawal into a pause. He sucked my engorged clit in hard, the sound sent waves of lust into my system as if lighting the wick to explode. He was whimpering as he came and I couldn’t withhold my shot, blowing into his face and mouth and hair as my back bowed against the table. I gasped out in whorish fashion and he laughingly joined in as he slowed his work to bring me down gently. He returned to resting his head against the inside of my knee, allowing me to sit up but still holding fast to his hand.
“Why did you do that?” I asked, letting my body fold and meet our foreheads together.
“I didn’t want to stop to get a condom,” he answered, his breath slowly returning to normal.
I let out a huff before I kissed his brow. “Okay, I appreciate that you are conscientious of this, but I’m on the depo shot. If you feel comfortable enough, you don’t have to use one of those things with me.”
His eyes were slow to meet mine. “It’s current?”
“Current?”
He swallowed with a nod. “Are you up to date on the dosage?”
“Like clockwork, Jake,” I answered. “Afraid of getting one of your groupies-”
The heat that flared in his eyes made me stop. “You’re not a fucking groupie, Y/n.”
I let out a soft breath to recollect myself. “Okay, afraid of getting one of your ‘friends’ knocked up?”
“Just not the time for any of that,” he said dryly as he stood up.
I watched him walk into the kitchen to retrieve a towel and wash his hands before returning to me. I grimaced as I came off the table to wash up. He collected our tossed around clothes before yanking on his ink black briefs with a smirk.
“Now, I’m hungry,” he declared as he buttoned up his pants, leaving his shirt folded over the chair beside him. “You need more wine, but stay out of the kitchen.”
“Why can’t I help?” I asked as he was quick to pour our wine.
“Get that pussy by me and it’s so distracting that I may have to do that all over again,” he warned as he set back to work.
“Promise?”
He laughed across the rim of his glass. “Promise.”
They make me smile. I hope you liked the first part of Chapter 3. Let me know what you think! Thank you for the likes and reblogs. It means a lot. See you next Wednesday! 😘😘
I do have a tag list here, or you can just let me know in a reply to add you.
@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @gretavanbitches @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @starcatcherc @loveisonaroll @jakesstarlight @reesetrippingthelight @builtby-gvf @ignite-my-fire @wetkleenex-gvf @gold-mines-melting @starsasone @mysticalstarcatcher @montenegroisr @takenbythemadness @way-to-go-lad @cal-a-bungaa @thewritingbeforesunrise @leftjudgeempathsuitcase @brokenbells11 @imborrowedshesblue @vanfleeter
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In the spirit of releasing all emotional debts on New Year's Eve, I’m going to open up about my frustrations regarding Desa aka dinosaurusgede aka the creator of Maaf.
For context, she made a Twitter account around the time that Himaruya properly introduced the newly canonized cast of SEA nations (Philippines, Indonesia, Singapore, and Malaysia). Like many other fans, she rode the nostalgia wave in creating content of them. By this point in time, Maaf was more or less a “finished” story to her — whatever Hetalia/SEAtalia content she published from that point onward was not as a continuation of, nor even as a reboot, of Maaf (although she did mention entertaining that idea). For the most part, the newer works she uploaded on Twitter were independent stories and were not necessarily linked to one other either.
Regrettably, I cannot present the problematic page/s for a more thorough and guided scrutiny because she deleted her Twitter account. Unless someone out there saved them, and frankly I wouldn't know who did nor would care to find out, everything was lost to the void. I’m literally working on what was imprinted in my memory by spite, so I apologize if I misremember details.
This will include discussion of anti-indigenous racism and other issues pertaining to colonialism.
She had an IndoPhil story titled Trust Me? and it was inspired by a fanmade BruPhil AMV wherein Indonesia was manipulating Philippines into believing that he was married to Indonesia and not Brunei. Trust Me? kept that concept of a manipulative Indonesia; the key difference being that Indonesia’s motivation for it (in Desa’s story) was the mix of hurt over Philippines “losing his precolonial memories” — based on popularized misconceptions of early Philippine history — of and how that was “aggravated” by his Westernization™, made worse under the United States (350+ years in the convent getting ratio'd by 50 years in Hollywood is hilarious ngl).
That was a lot to unpack, but before we even get there:
Indonesia and Philippines were having a tender moment when HWS America (as in the Hetalia personification that is Alfred F. Jones) walks in calling out "MY LITTLE BROWN BROTHER!"
Indonesia entered his Joker arc because he recalled how HWS America dumped the Philippines in a human zoo at the 1904 St. Louis World’s Fair. There was an explicit panel of Philippines in Igorot* dress and a painfully forlorn bearing.
What "triggered" Indonesia was when, after the flashback, Piri goes up to Indonesia and asks him if he's a Bolshevist 🥺 (the idea was PH being brainwashed by Red Scare propaganda). Cue kabedon moment from Indonesia, and basically a yandere walk down "memory lane."
I did not have it in me to finish reading that comic...
*Igorot is an outdated umbrella term for the upland indigenous peoples of Northern Luzon
Aside from the clearly intended shock value of that depiction, I was taken aback by the painful lack of objectivity on her part when it came to the reading of history. To be fair on Desa, she never specialized in history studies, so it was only courteous that we could not expect her to have as developed of a critical reading as trained academics of history. Unfortunately, that was precisely why I disagreed with the popular notion of Desa as both a great researcher and a great storyteller of her research — all the more when Maaf was just the mangafication of certain Wikipedia articles.
To be fair as well on Wikipedia, it was, at best, a satisfactory jumpstart into more in-depth reading, and we could give it the benefit of the doubt that revisions had since been made to at least some of the articles that Desa relied on while making Maaf (more than 10 years is more than enough time for change). Nevertheless, the articles themselves did not teach users how to scrutinize the sources — most especially the biases of the sources’ author/s — utilized in building up the information.
That mattered because much of the retrospect narratives about the St. Louis Fair had a tendency of raising awareness through the newspaper articles that covered the exhibition at the time. These chronicled the impressions of the visiting authors, who likely (and I say likely because we would have to more exhaustively discern their personal politics one by one) were biased in favor of the “benevolent assimilation” of the Philippines — and the sights that they beheld only validated it further. They did not, however, explain why these Philippine indigenous peoples were brought in in the first place — information that could have further cemented Desa's reputation had she truly spent the efforts, even while understandably juggling other commitments as we all do. Instead, she only perpetuated the habit of sacrificing the veracity of equally important, finer details to the bigger picture in order to sensationalize righteous fury against colonialism.
The 1904 St. Louis World’s Fair was also formally known as the Louisiana Purchase Exposition, giving away its purpose as a commemoration. More appropriately, it was the centennial anniversary (technically delayed by a year though) of the acquisition of French Louisiana, expanding the territorial bounds of the United States. Additionally, the point of a world’s fair was to showcase the achievements of a nation, and one could also think of it as the sale of a fever dream — what more for a fast-growing, fledgling power the likes of the United States, itself a former colony? On another note, the St. Louis World’s Fair was not the only one of its kind so no, the US is not that original lmao.
One could thus see how the inclusion of a dedicated exhibit to the newly acquired colony that was the Philippines neatly fit into the themes of a world's fair centralized on the US. It was all the more a paramount topic of debate, with prominent Americans the likes of Mark Twain (here are selected excerpts, but I highly recommend reading the entirety of his To the Person Sitting in the Darkness) publishing anti-US imperialism opinions, even after the endgame of the Philippine-American War essentially favored the pro-imperialists. While dissent from the American side at the time remains poorly studied AND THAT'S ON OVERRULE BY BIAS, we at least have a glimpse, if mostly obscure still, of its existence.
If we can assume that it must have indeed been a prominent discourse in America, loud enough to get the White House furrowing its brows, then it's plausible to understand how it was of utmost importance that the the Philippine exhibit was to be carefully — because, in a way, America had to sell itself as the "lesser evil" vs notable "rivals" — curated while still ultimately corroborating assimilation of the Philippines. Thus, enter Truman Hunt, the man who oversaw "the Igorot Village" of the St. Louis Fair, having won the hearts of the native Igorots for a powerful reason:
Section from Claire Prentice, The Lost Tribe of Coney Island: Headhunters, Luna Park, and the Man Who Pulled Off the Spectacle of the Century, New York, NY: Amazon Publishing, 2014.
While the cholera epidemic that occurred at the onset of the American Colonial Period was arguably the worst in the history of cholera epidemic management in the Philippines, I want to make it very, very clear that it was not the first and only wave that hit the archipelago. There had been a handful in the prior century alone — all of such magnitudes that it embedded a deep collective trauma; farmers refused to harvest their crops for fear of infection, tragically enabling famines and contributing starvation & nutrition deficiencies on top of a viral & swift killer (the experience of severe, rapid dehydration is such that one can fall dead within hours of infection).
Given such an imaginably harrowing experience (and it was an awfully painful topic to study as someone who got infected with and survived COVID-19 and has family working as frontliners), how could the natives turn away a stranger with such miraculous powers? Who knows how they comprehended it (e.g. a benevolent sign from heaven they must accept) because, unfortunately, we have yet to discuss preserved accounts on that matter, if any at all.
What is known, however, is that there were Igorots who were not just enamored by the "opportunity of a lifetime," but the selected lucky candidates clearly expressed their consent to participate:
More sections from Prentice, The Lost Tribe of Coney Island.
I will quickly add that, unfortunately, a few members of the Igorot delegation died from illness in making the trip, and Hunt aged like milk over the years (fell into the trap of capitalism in pushing for more subsequent exhibit trips, to the point that less care was extended to the Igorots and he was ultimately arrested for embezzlement). Given that our scope remains to be the 1904 St. Louis Fair, any signs of abuse inflicted upon the Igorots during their stay based on preserved photographs is simply not clear. To assume that they were in a pitiable state would be to enforce a presentist reading that might betray not just their memories & experiences but also their right to self-determination.
EDIT (01/02/24): A good example to demonstrate what I mean in analyzing photographs, here's an article on the author's personal, genealogical research into the Igorots — specifically, the Suyoc — who were at the St. Louis Fair.
It truly is ironic that a Filipino is making these points as if to defend the United States as a whole (no I am not, and if you think I do, lumayas ka). I agree that white people gawking over the peoples of the Philippines with such fascination that borders fetishism warrants all the eye-rolls. At the same time — and it is even more ironic that I am pointing this out as a lowland, Christianized Tagalog based in the metro (not just any urbanized part of the country) — there is a character of patronizing these indigenous communities in the unspoken assumption that their participation is the fault of their ignorance. Pay attention, once more, to the demographics that constituted the Philippine exhibit in the 1904 St. Louis Fair — what kind of "Filipinos" were included and who were left out? There were also Negritos*, Visayans, and Muslims from Mindanao (historically referred to as Moros) in the same event, yet we hardly hear about their experiences. Perhaps it might have to do with how they were considered "more civilized" than these upland groups.
*OUTDATED term (and please blame the Spanish for it); these are the Aeta.
I understand Desa's reservations against US imperialism and sympathies for communities marginalized by Western colonization. I just hope that I was able to clarify as best as I could why I was so taken aback in how she depicted the Hetalia personification of my country the way she did. I agree that, as far as I ever got to interact with her, she is generally very polite and kind. That's why I gave her the benefit of the doubt when she approached me in DM to apologize for how her narrative choice was offensive. As someone who despised red tape in academia, I tried to talk to her about how there were valid reasons as to why the American Colonial Period was considered a mixed blessing, even by PH historians.
Instead, she pulled a complete 180.
She said that — to a Filipino who condemned imperialism (no matter who started it), who also happened to study history as a profession, and was also a Hetalia fan who wants to explore Hetalia narratives differently from what was popularized. Half of the reason was because some fandom takes left a bad taste, like eating a dish with ingredients that even Gordon Ramsay would tell you shouldn’t go together; the other half was because I saw things differently and wanted to express it because why not?
I want to say it's not necessary to bring up something from a private conversation, but I will anyway to reiterate that my issue is not that she isn't nice. Bluntly, however, the way she said those words so formally did creep me out, but ultimately, my issue lies in how her biases have led her into making off-putting takes from time to time. I will not say more, but Trust Me? was not the only Twitter comic by Desa that got bombastic side-eyes.
And if only because Sukarno got dragged in, I felt compelled to briefly debunk that as well: even he initially viewed the United States in a very positive light: “The United States occupies a very distinguished part, a very distinguished place, in the hearts of the Indonesian people.” That was uttered in 1961, and it took a very specific historical context to instigate a complete shift by 1964:
Sections from Vincent Bevins, The Jakarta Method: Washington’s Anticommunist Crusade & the Mass Murder Program that Shaped Our World, New York: PublicAffairs, 2021, 121-123.
EDIT (01/02/24): Note that Desa was citing Sukarno's later sentiments in the late 1960s as her reason for characterizing Indonesia as such in her comic. However, the setting of the story was the late 1920s (Indonesia's visit was based on Tan Malaka's abscondence to the Philippines). I'd dare say the anachronism was not due to oversight but a deliberate choice in using a certain fictional character — namely HWS Indonesia — as propaganda for Desa's anti-Americanism.
It's definitely depressing to think about all the "lost" history & culture that thrived before the arrival of white colonizers. It's why I'm surprised that, for a fiction work, she didn't project all that anger onto Spain instead — it had to specifically be the United States. Was it because they basically cockblocked Philippine independence, even though Spain practically sold the Philippines to the US? The implication that Spain should be permitted to wash its hands clean of all accountability was an awkward message to convey.
I understand that nothing could be 100% accurate (I'm actually quoting Desa defending herself on that matter) in fiction, but the level of projection coming from a certain non-Filipino reading Philippine history was so silly. And again, how did it all justify the explicit depiction of HWS Philippines as an indigenous man in a human zoo? (END OF EDIT)
As my professors will also never tire of saying: you can disagree with a historian’s interpretations but you can never disagree with the evidence in themselves. You don’t have to morally agree either, and I can guarantee you that many Filipinos do not. I, myself, resented the endgame of the particular war that brought that period about in the first place. How dare, then, she said it was “not her place” to defend US imperialism, while granting herself the freedom to express her country’s feelings on the matter?
Oh, it’s all just fiction? I do not condone the subsequent treatment she received, but why then couldn’t she stop trying to “educate” NLID shippers? I do not know how both sides talked to one another, only that what caught me eye was: Why does everyone else have to respect her fiction while she gets to disrespect others’ fictions for not aligning with hers?
EDIT (01/20/24): Just to clarify further on that point — over a decade ago, she went ham in the comment section of someone's (APH) America x (fem!OC) Indonesia. That ship is not in my lore either simply because I follow a totally different route. To cut to the chase, she took that fanart very personally and infodumped on US war crimes that involved Indonesia.
I know Tan Malaka started the whole North Indonesia agenda, but come on, neither was it Desa's place to just treat HWS Philippines the way she did. An Indonesian schooling other Indonesians on ID history is not surprising, but an Indonesian schooling a Filipino on PH history? I'd be humbled if they had the credentials. She didn't and, unless she enrolled herself in a graduate program, she still doesn't.
By all technicalities, she can’t ship IDPH because the Philippine government was (unfortunately and grossly) complicit in the chain of events that led to the 1965-66 genocides in Indonesia. Yet, she does despite of that fact. We thus circle back to Trust Me? and how that was a manifestation of her stubborn refusal to acknowledge any nuances by projecting HWS Indonesia as a self-proclaimed savior of HWS Philippines from the beguile of US neocolonialism.
I empathize with her anger. I'm sorry that the US government by extent enabled what her family went through. I agree that it's not her place to defend them; in fact, she shouldn't. But when even the so-called "highest of Malay nations*" is worth her neutrality, how can she expect me to forgive her?
*That is literally what the Philippines is to her; I know this because she explicitly said so to me in DM. DO NOT ASK FOR RECEIPTS, I am not comfortable revealing that particular conversation.
I cannot — in fact, NO ONE SHOULD — afford to be neutral about Duterte or Marcos, etc., and for her to be so flippant about her privilege (by way of ethnicity/citizenship/cultural upbringing) to be neutral** about Philippine politics, while simultaneously NAGGING ON EVERYBODY TO RESPECT INDONESIAN POLITICS, is annoying at best and plain selfish at worst.
**Also explicitly said to me in DM. Again, DO NOT ASK FOR RECEIPTS.
(END OF EDIT)
I’m not Indonesian but I do not have it in me to politely accuse a native Indonesian of allowing their personal biases to misread their own history. As a Filipino, however, while I'm not surprised by the reductionist chronicling of the histories & cultures of the Philippines, I am at a loss for words over the continuing idolization for Desa & Maaf, when she was not the best and most reliable narrator, especially given her negligence in representing indigenous peoples through her comics.
I mean, guys, I'm not saying this as if the Trust Me? comic was the first and only instance when this was literally Maaf canon that sat comfortably in the internet for over a decade, and continues to be appraised as THE BIBLE OF HISTORICAL HETALIA.
EDIT (01/20/24 — originally added via a reblog): I cannot believe this needs to be said because this is the consequence of when Hetalia fans take their fiction too literally because creators have made careless takes.
There were SEAtalians joking about how the Yolngu are a dead people.
I repeat.
THERE WERE SEATALIANS JOKING ABOUT HOW THE YOLNGU ARE A DEAD PEOPLE.
(END OF EDIT)
So as 2023 comes to a close we enter 2024, I'd like to conclude this post with the following points:
At best, Wikipedia is a satisfactory jumping point, but please believe me when I say no historian will respect you for (over-)relying on Wikipedia. And given that anyone with a decent device & internet signal can access Wikipedia, Desa is just not a GOAT in historical research.
At worst, idolizing Maaf patronizes the work of historians. It doesn't help that PH historians have been targets of harassment because of dis-/misinformation campaigns. I bring this up because it's already bad enough to have to confront that reality outside of fandom spaces on a regular basis in standing our ground for more just historical truths. I hope that folks understand why that's a particularly sensitive struggle for me, and why receiving such comments like the one I shared above deeply hurt. She was not apologetic about that — and every time she would post about apologizing for the moments she has offended others, or when others compliment her for being so open-minded, I cannot help but feel bitter.
Other BIPOC — yes, not just other SEAsians and that's on literally drawing nations other than SEA — have spoken up on the matter. If you can talk about how you learned so much from Desa, you can also learn as much from other perspectives. I hope that in raising all of this, more SEAtalians understand that we risk othering non-SEA BIPOC.
The idolization of Maaf (and the creator in question) is personally far more off-putting than the problematic points of Maaf or any comic she has ever made, because I think she caved to peer pressure instead of learning to wield her fiction more sensitively without being too reliant of the opinions of those she has pleased. Not even Hidekaz Himaruya writes his nationverse characters like that — the one time I’ll admit that canon trumps fanon.
I’m not stopping people from liking Maaf or Desa anyway. I just cannot help but take issue with how the SEAtalia fandom feels less of a safe & inclusive community than it is a cult centered on one person — almost as if her fiction is unquestionable canon and anyone who disagrees gets the boot. Once again, I do not condone the subsequent treatment she received in retaliation, but frankly that's just not what I'm addressing here.
I'm also not saying it's wrong to give words of reassurance and validation to people you admire, only that some of you need to understand you're forcing a parasocial relationship with your idols. It may feel good to you, but please be mindful of the unwarranted pressure it imposes.
I apologize for dumping all of this at literally the end of the year. I want to let it all go in a manner that is clear, concise, and not overwhelming to digest. I do hope that my candid thoughts will push the fandom one step forward in critically consuming media without having to resort to crab-mentality tendencies — because it's been especially hard seeing the demeaning takes made about the Philippines in this fandom.
#hetalia#historical hetalia#hetalia critical#racism cw#hws philippines#aph philippines#hws indonesia#aph indonesia#hws america#aph america#mentions of death cw#sibuyas
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The Bitter Truth
Content Warning: Foul Language, Violence, Gun Usage, Pokemon Death.
Onryō: A "vengeful spirit" of traditional Japanese beliefs, capable of causing harm to the living, killing those still alive and even being the cause of natural disasters and phenomena of their own volition. They believe they deserve vengeance for their time alive, and will stop at nearly nothing to address the wrongs, perceived or true, they suffered during life. Typically depicted as women, they wear traditional white burial garb across their bodies and show bitter, malicious resentment towards their victims.
Only through vehement apology and righting the wrongs done to the onryō during its days amongst the living can they be appeased and allowed to release their hold upon the land, and whatever offering is given must be directly tied to the spirit's rage. Should this fail, a priest or being of divine will shall be forced to cull the spirit.
But justice will never be served if such an ending to their spirituality is forced upon them.
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"... m-momma?"
Her eyes snapped open.
Rose let her lungs fill with much needed air, staring up at an inky blackness above her. The sharp inhale made her body tingle with feeling once more. Her hands grasped at nothing, but felt themselves to a reassuring degree. Her feet could feel the boots upon them, her chest pushing upwards against the loose, but well-fitted top to her uniform.
She nearly wanted to gulp at the air, the sensation that she hadn't breathed inwards once in her time under the Zoroark's vice grip upon her body clinging to her chest. She recognized where she was, her eyes wide and her body feeling much fuller. The hollowness was gone. The sensation of furious anger and a vicious desire for slaughter had left her. She was herself once more.
Gradually, she rolled onto her side, standing herself up. The same table. The same flame. It was here again, but held a bluish tint rather than the standard red from before. She was back with Truth once more, Reshiram's domain. And his flame was visibly untethered to a candle this time. His eyes settled upon the form his will represented, flickering notably in the void. Larger than before. More confidently... themself. She could feel his warmth. She could see his flame flicker towards her as she approached, blue eyes matching the hue of the fire.
They turned towards her curtly as she approached, and there was a soft hum of thought from Reshiram to signal their approval of her arrival.
It's well that you're aware enough to be here. I feared the worst when I saw the state you had been in.
"No. Nuh uh. That isn't how I go. I've got a family to get back to, and I'm not letting some vengeful cunt get in the way of that." Her voice was still ringing loud and clear even now, a sign of her convictions being true.
Despite the lack of sound, Rose could tell. The flame upon the table "laughed", eyes squinting shut for a moment until nodding.
That's what I expect from someone like you. I chose well. But there is sadly a bit of a problem.
Rose's eyes flashed slightly with a blue hue as she tilted her head in thought. Reshiram's protection was going to be necessary here, and as her hand went down to her left side... she sighed through her nose in response. It wasn't there in this realm, no. But she knew. She knew she had lost so much more than just a bit of blood. Had it not been for the Zoroark choosing to puppet her around, she would've died. How ironic, then, that it led to the Dragon of Truth's intervention being possible?
We aren't alone here.
A chill. And right before either could react, an impact.
Reshiram winced as the malicious force slammed into the domain they held, showing its form as a raging cloud of blood red mist, but Rose knew it was the only reason they weren't being consumed. The warmth that the flame projected was keeping the Zoroark at bay... but there was no sound. No screeching. No yelling. No laughter or taunting. A sign that they weren't attempting to communicate with their own true feelings. One that the dragon took note of. It collided with thin air, visibly splaying out before coming back up into a noxiously violent form once more.
Your lack of decorum notwithstanding, you will never get to Rose. You speak with your heart, or I smite you with my flames. There is no other outcome for you.
Silence reigned despite the rumble of the vile, crimson shroud of hatred slamming into the invisible barrier protecting them both, the sensation reaching Rose's body, not her ears. It barely looked like it had moved. It happened again, the cloud circling about to try and viciously strike behind. But nothing came close. Reshiram's power was unyielding. Unbendingly strong. She watched for a moment before she frowned visibly. "Or just ignore them. Ruin yourself. Destroy yourself just so fucking vehemently trying to tear me apart! Reshiram, I honestly don't think they're really wanting to talk!"
I am inclined to believe you.
A pulse of fire in a guttural bellowing. Deafening in its power, it flared outwards, pushing past Rose harmlessly. But the being just past them? Fruitlessly assaulting a being so much more powerful than them?
This screech was felt. "Heard."
It was a deep one. From the very core of the being's own soul. Rose visibly winced at it, her eyes widening a bit with a shudder. The cloud quivered once again, rippling in a way that looked close to someone shaking off the pain. Silently once more, they impacted the dome of protection that was unseen, but undeniable.
Another retaliation. Reshiram's roar. Their own potent flames, truth to burn away the lies that festered deeply within the souls of those that deny their creed. That find themselves opposed to their Chosen. And that same, visceral emanation pulsed out from the cloud.
It shrank. It clung to its form with visible unease. It backed away. Rose's eyes were losing focus under the raw pain she was being forced to listen to. But Reshiram had a duty.
You... vile--
A roar from a dragon.
A scream from a spirit.
A shout from a human.
"Reshiram, STOP!" Haggardly panting, Rose felt her body shuddering in pain. In a domain such as this, with her heart on display, what was emotional could very well become physical. And her body was quaking the further this assault went on. "It... they... thuh-this is too much... Stop, just stop, I can't..."
Silence reigned. The wailing continued for a small while as the human pulled their arms across their chest. She stared at the cloud. Her eyes were horrified. Manic.
Rose, you cannot let their pain affect you. They did not allow yours to sway their own judgement. They killed you in their own eyes. They would've killed many more.
"That doesn't justify torture!"
Yet again, the eyes upon the flame peered at Rose with a measured level. They watched her unblinkingly. The human, meanwhile, couldn't help but stare directly up at the crimson mist, her heartbeat practically audible throughout the entire domain.
... It was not my intention. One should've been enough to dismiss them outright. I have grown weaker in my slumber. If you'd give me the time--
"They spoke." Her eyes were unblinking. "What did you say?"
V-... vile... monstrous parasite, you--
"Stop flinging the fucking insults!" Despite her empathy halting Reshiram's assault, that did not wipe the fury from her heart. She stepped forward, staying within her guardian's influence with their warmth at her back. "Start telling me what the absolute hell is wrong with you!!"
You! YOU ARE WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME! Spurred once more into striking, it came mere inches from Rose's face this time. And instead of backing off, its form began to wrap around towards the human's placement. Behind it... two, furiously glowing yellow eyes, pupils centered right upon Rose. The hatred was clear. As was an amount of desperation she wasn't expecting. I almost had it! I nearly had everything I needed! You just had to corrupt that child into hating me! Hating his own kind!
"I fed him. I housed him. I freed him and he came back."
Liar!!
"I can't lie here. You either speak the truth or don't speak at all."
Why can't I speak like you, then?!
"You aren't willing to face the truth right in front of your face."
The eyes focused on her for what felt like ages. Reshiram watched Rose from behind. Their unseen brow knit at her choice of words, and they seemed to lean back quietly to watch this play out instead of intervening. "... Who are you?"
Silence.
"Do you have a name?"
A deafening void of sound.
"What happened to you?"
Your kind happened to me.
"What did my kind do to you?"
Exile. Slaughter. Pursuit leading to even further pain.
"Show me." For the first time, the spirit blinked. Under Rose's unrelenting gaze, the spirit flinched out of an expectant outcome falling apart. "Show me what they did. Show me what would make you... wail like that. That was pain I hadn't heard before. Or even felt. I... I want to know what you went through. I need to know what makes someone as spiteful as you, because Todd doesn't deserve that. And I'm not putting him through it."
Reshiram gently thrummed, and with a small pull of Rose back, they looked to her quietly. However, their eyes silently went to watch the mist as the human took a seat to listen. And a nod promptly followed. The dragon would allow this. Though it took the spirit some time to even process what was being done... those eyes blinked once more, staring at Rose pointedly.
There, in the darkness of Reshiram's domain... a shadowy play began.
We lived within the forests. In burrows. In trees. Wherever we could find that would keep us from being found. Dens were hard to come by, and scrounging for food had become taxing. Especially in winter months. The cold was never something we handled well.
Trees flashed by for a moment before settling. A small Zorua's silhouette came into view, sniffing about. It silently grasped a berry in its jaws, dashing off through the trees to a small outcropping in a particularly large tree, scooted into a hollow by a much larger Zoroark. One that peered back with golden eyes, staring for a small while into the dead air before dipping into the hollow. The image faded.
We defended ourselves. Territorial disputes. Making sure our families would be able to eat for another day. Hunting for food where it was found... but we did not like confrontation. We did not like to expose ourselves. We hid. We shrouded ourselves. We tricked to take what we needed as quickly as possible. And the humans did not approve of our methods.
A flash of a Zorua running. Then another. A Zoroark coming into view, turning, and roaring with a flash of its golden gaze before a prompt backpedal and dash away. Soon after came dog Pokemon. Some sleek, some stocky. All dashing forward with clear intent as humans came rushing upwards. Pitchforks and torches were visibly in their hands. Another fade, and the spirit continued.
Humans are tenaciously cruel predators. Upon cornering us, they would burn out our dens, smoke choking us enough to run out into the jaws of their trained killers.
A flash of a fleeing Zorua being bitten right into by a dog Pokemon. The crack of its neck was not audible. But the limpness of its body did enough. Rose's entire back felt a chill run down its spine. Reshiram continued watching, unperturbed.
If we proved too much for their initial methods... they had others. Loud things. Things that killed either quickly or slowly. It didn't matter. If you were hit by them? You simply died. A ball of death, lodged into your body. You could only hope it would have mercy on you and act quickly.
The shadows shifted once more to show the humans. Humans holding muskets. Hunting rifles, the type that shot out heavy bullets. Rose's body quivered as the ball of iron slipped right into a Zoroark's back, it's blue eyes shooting wide. The Pokemon flopped forward and struggled to crawl away, dragging itself along the ground by its claws. Rose looked down for a few seconds, her breathing quickening, but her eyes shifted back up.
Years of this became our life. If you did not die to the humans, you died to their trained killers. If you did not die to their killers, you died to the hunger. We needed to flee. We needed a new life. But everywhere we went...
Another gunshot.
Another Pokemon directed by a human.
Another corpse thrown into a pit, filling further and further with death.
They were there. Parasites. Leeches on us all. Stealing everything... and killing us because we dared to try and survive by taking what we needed. So we fled. And fled. And fled... But it took us too long... the longer we ran, the colder it became. The harder it became to breathe. The harder it became to even move. We tried so hard to push ourselves to safety. Not even the humans came to places like these... but the reason became obvious.
Quietly, the crimson fog faded into showing a lone Zoroark standing. Golden eyes scanned, the dead of their kind littering the field. A barren waste. Whipping, misty snow everywhere the eye could see. Nothing but ice, stretching as far as the senses could reach. The Zoroark roared soundlessly.
It collapsed just as silently with no one left to mourn it.
Rose's body was quaking. She was struggling to watch. Her face scrunched, lip quivering for a moment as she knit her brow and nose to try and stay coherently able to focus. Because the Zoroark figure, after the deafening silence hung for what felt like ages... began to rise back up.
The wastes are no place for the living. No place for creatures that are not as icy as they are. But they could still be lived in with just enough determination to see it through. Though it be the bane of life itself... we could still persist in some perverted form. We could still hunt the creatures that lived to feed ourselves. We could still find the scarce tree lined with hardened berries. We could still... exist. But like before, perhaps even more pointedly in a barren wasteland like this? There could never be enough.
A shift. And tents were now visible on the horizon of the Zoroark's new domain.
Especially not when we realized our folly. Humans were monsters, capable of adapting to anything. Living anywhere, eating whatever they could find, training themselves and their killers further and further. But we did not strike first. We simply dug in. This was where we had ended up. This was where we would live. We would show them the spite they showed us. But all we wanted was to live!
Zoruas flashed by, shifting through illusions, scaring humans away with apparitions created through their wisps, playing together in the snow. Little wrestles, sharing meals. All under the watchful eye of one golden-gazed Zoroark.
Until an arrow struck nearby. And a second one cut into a Zorua's leg, pinning it. The Zoroark moved to free them. A third pierced right into its hand. The same one Rose's own had felt get crunched by a defensive Luxray. She felt her hand twinge in pain watching that. And her body was visibly shifting in discomfort.
Humans do not care. If we frighten them, we are to be expelled. If we contest them, we are to be pushed back. If we ever think to try and live our lives near them... it will be ours that fade first. I did not even get to watch my kind perish. I'm almost glad I hadn't. But I still can't deny that being put into that mask was something I wish I never wished for, however indirectly.
The final scene played out. The Zoroark, surrounded in darkness, holding one of its young in its arms. It wasn't moving. The Zoroark was inconsolable. And for the first time... it was heard. "Make it stop! I had to watch this happen twice, I'd give anything to just make this stop!"
That anything cost me everything. Someone was listening. And I got my wish. That mask on your face is all that's left of me now. It gave me ample time to think. To plan. To act when I finally had the chance. And you gave it to me so easily... but just like any other human, you--
"M'sorry...!" Rose was heaving her breaths. Her arm was up to her face, covering her eyes as she leaned back, panting out deeply. "I-I'm... I-I'm sorry...!"
... That means little and less coming from you.
Rose...?
"I..." She sniffled outwards, shaking her head as she lowered her arm. The clear-as-crystal grief on her face was apparent. "Wh-... h-how did you even... I'd never b-be able to..."
You... you wouldn't. You're right. Because I didn't. I couldn't handle the grief. The pain of losing my family not once... but twice. Stop that pathetic act.
... It is no act. Lies are not permitted in my domain.
Rose shook her head, coughing slightly before staring down in response. "... I-I would've done the same thing...! I. I almost just did! To protect my family, I just... I nearly had you destroyed." Her eyes went up. Golden ones met her own. "... who's to say I wouldn't have ended up just like you in the same circumstances?"
Silence.
A yawning abyss of soundless silence followed. Not even Reshiram's own flickering flames created any tones.
"... what do you want, Zoroark?" The golden eyes blinked again. The pupils stared into Rose's own. They looked down quietly.
... I want my family back. But because that can't happen... I wanted to make sure any new family I had couldn't be hurt again.
"Let me help with that."
What?
"Why should you be killed a second time? Reshiram, seriously. Why should someone who's been through this much fucking pain be killed?"
A matter of trust and prior hatred.
"Trust needs to be built. I would do anything to protect my family. To protect Todd." She let her eyes, bloodshot above tear-stained cheeks, land firmly on the spirit's own. "Let me build it here. Because Todd deserves having one of his kind around. All of my Pokemon do. They may not trust you at first. You hurt me! You nearly killed me! But you bloody fucking DIDN'T. I'm still here! I'm still alive and kicking because I'm not done with my life yet! You intended to cause so much harm, but NO ONE should be judged based on things they never did from horrific thoughts born from that much pain!! There are people I want dead! But I never would! Because the people they're still loved by don't deserve that! And that goes for you, too, god FUCKING dammit!!"
She was on her feet. She had moved forward before either of the others could even react. And in her passionate march, she was right up, face to face with those golden eyes. The mist lapped at her cheeks. It pushed bangs of her hair slightly away from her eyes. And she was panting, her eyes billowing with tears again as her emotions boiled over.
"... I just wanted him to be safe... I just wanted to be safe... that's all I wanted..."
Reshiram blinked. The cloud shrank down to be closer to Rose's own eye level, beginning to take shape. Rose watched this happen, and after wiping at her eyes, she offered a hand. "... Me too, hun. It'll be easier with two of us. Three if we count Mutt... and I think I do."
The eyes peered down for a moment towards the offered hand. They looked up. Uncertainty. Fear. Hope.
Not a hint of malice left.
"... wh-what will you do to me?"
"I... I don't know. But I want it to be something you actually agree on, okay?" She rubbed at her eyes again with her free hand, keeping the other one extended. "We need to talk to each other. See what'll work. How you can actually... still be you. You should see Todd in a happier light. I want you to see my whole family. I want them to be your family, too."
The eyes stared at her for a long while. Seconds. Minutes. Days. Years. It felt like ages hung in this one moment, her unflinching resolve testing the spirit's own.
Silence.
Pure silence.
Rose felt something scrape along her hand. A claw. A real claw. It slid down from the top, testing the solidity of her form with gentle ease. Another claw hit the top of her palm, and it gripped on. Rose's eyes glanced down with a soft blink. Which allowed her to notice, right in front of her... black fur. With purple markings along the cheeks. Throughout the mane. Coating the claws. And those same golden eyes, now full of life again, upon a Zoroark's soul made manifest once more. It gripped onto her hand with its other paw, softly, as if afraid of hurting the person offering it, but just as afraid of it ever letting go.
The fox hit her knees as tears began flowing freely from her eyes, a wail of relief echoing out of her mouth as it drew breath once more.
#malformed malice#rosy recountings#pokemon legends arceus#pokemon roleplay#pokemon rp#death cw#cw death#guns cw#cw guns
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An announcement
I have work today, so discussion and analysis of the episode is still on hold. I have something to say in advance, though for when I do get started:
For my own sanity, I will not be discussing the cliffhanger.
tl:dr Until more episodes are released that can give us more context for the last few seconds of "Wanted," I'm not going to be crafting any theories or making any predictions or doing any analysis about them. Because trying is just going to frustrate me and I want to actually enjoy this show.
spoilers below
The idea of Victim returning to the series was always something that I've always had mixed feelings about.
I wanted to see the character again in some capacity; have one of the other sticks discover his former, brief existence, or have some sort of mental connection between Victim and one of his Becker-born fellows be established, or have the animator consider Victim's involvement in his own past, or at least have Victim's one-time presence be acknowledged by the series in some way, even if it doesn't expand into an actual plot point.
That was my best-case scenario: that Victim's short life be consciously addressed or referenced in-universe by the current cast. I'd be content with whatever effects rippled from that.
What we've gotten is more than that. More than Victim's role in the overall narrative being understood and acknowledged by the other characters.
Victim himself has returned, to take up a new role in the narrative.
And what I'm feeling is...mostly apprehension tbh.
The fandom has done so much with Victim. As far as a canon basis for personality, he had by far the least for us to work with out of any AvA stickfigure, so we all poured our own ideas and thoughts and nuances and pursuits into him. No two fans' Victims are alike, but there are still patterns of popular interpretation to be found. Victim being gray. Victim being in the void. Victim being a ghost. Victim having a funky relationship with code due to partial-deletion/recovery. Victim reincarnating into Chosen or Second.
Over the course of this new season, a lot of that is going to be permanently branded as alternate characterization, because Victim will be getting canon established for himself.
I can live with that.
But just because I know it's coming doesn't mean I'm ready to pack away what we've made on our own just yet.
I'm not gonna lie, I'm eager to see what Alan does with putting Victim in what seems to be a villainous role. Alan has already done such intriguing things with the stickfigures who are identified by archetypes, and how these characters alternately embrace and defy different aspects of the in-universe titles they've been named with is something I look forward to seeing more of with Victim.
At the same time, though...a petty part of me still isn't over the kerfuffle a bunch of us had two years ago when some people in the official discord server decided that Victim as he appeared in AvA1 was canonically evil.
AvA1. The episode where he gets disparaged and unmade. Where he had to fistfight a cruel god two minutes after being brought to life, and when he had the audacity to almost win he was punished with cessation of existence.
And...apparently that made him evil, in some people's eyes? I didn't get it then, and I still don't get it now. But perhaps you can see why the hints toward a villainous role for Victim in upcoming episodes have me a little on edge.
I've seen "evil Victim" done well, I know it's possible. SammyXD's incredible Ghost in the Machine comic is foremost in my mind, but I can name at least two other examples. I know it can be done.
I just hope it's worth it.
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Just saw a post about Larian's trend of adding and changing content in Baldur's Gate 3 and instead of writing a novel of notes in the tags just going to put some of my thoughts into the void.
I don't think it's been too egregious so far. Not a fan of most of the changes personally, but they are overall 'whatever'. For context, I am once again at Act III 60 hours in and in the process of doing all the quests I skipped the first time I finished the game.
Act III is kind of odd for me? I won't go over the pacing issues that caused me to skip it thus far. But it's a big tone shift. Act I and II are just stellar. Every single time I get to Act III I can't shake the feeling it's just not as good. Not bad, just a bit of a mess? There's a lot of stuff that is hilarious/almost joke content: The circus. Just Minsc as a whole. Taking Halsin to Sharess's Caress made me laugh out loud with the Drow twins because it is framed very comically. The whole bear gag again...God.
And none of this is bad, but it does make me take the narrative and the game world less seriously. I would go far as to say it kills immersion . Getting taken out of the game to be entertained is not what I personally am looking for. Which is where for me this ties into changes they are making.
What have they done so far. Made a lot of character interactions friendlier. I don't want the rough edges sanded off! I like it when characters have their own agenda that doesn't revolve around me. Changes to some of Gortash's correspondence because they decided it didn't fit (well into full release.) Fan service like adding the god's favorite princess line, or references to bing bong. Ohoho I got those, I am pointing at my monitor. It's just more funny content that takes me out of the game world.
I think a lot of people love these changes, so these are obviously my personal feelings. I hope they don't go too far in changing what is an already released game. Adding things is fine. Changing things because they don't like them anymore or fans asked for it I kind of hate! When I'm trying to immerse myself in a universe/character I don't want to feel like I'm building that on quicksand.
#ele texts#bg3 spoilers#larian critical#I realize it's the DnD universe where wacky hijinks abound#I don't know I'm just some idiot on the internet.#Also an asshole. Don't tell anyone.#I plan on finally finishing the game this week and shelving it indefinitely so it's kind of Moot#Free me!!
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★﹐take our time ．﹗﹑
cw: bae hoyoung x fem!reader; bath sex, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected p-in-v sex (yall better wrap it up); nipple play, marking, praise, petnames (baby, darling); lmk if i missed something
words: 1 170
a/n: hi hello! this was supposed to be an entrance for this year's kinktober but reality creeped its way into my imaginary bubble and i can't write the whole stuff; that's why yall get some random crumbs i'll manage to puke out and hope it'll be quite consistent. lmk if you liked it and reblog if you did!!! it really helps <333
taglist: @ahncosette @zlueehee
that’s a one hell of a stressful day, you think as you enter your flat. but that’s about to change, all thanks to your boyfriend.
“hoyoung?” you ask loudly so every inch of the void in the flat can hear you. placing your bag on the floor and taking off your shoes, you proceed deeper into the flat. the atmosphere is… intriguing. the dim light of the small lamps in the living room to the nice scent, your favourite one, that’s not thick, nor intense, just enough to tickle your sense in a pleasant way.
“hi, darling.”
that’s when your beloved boyfriend comes out of your shared bedroom, with a sheepish smile, visibly excited to finally see you back. although when he notices your tensed body and the tired gaze with which you look at him, he’s about to fight the world.
“i thought that you’d like a warm bath after such a day, let alone a whole week. i have your favorite wine as well,” hoyoung starts, effectively covering up his worried tone with his words and actions, as he gets closer to you and slowly reaches for your hand. as your fingers intertwine, you smile and try to blink the slowly-forming tears away. having such a boyfriend was like a winning lottery ticket.
“will you wash my hair?”
“sure. whatever makes you happy, darling.”
slowly, you two make your way to the bathroom, where already set candles are waiting for being lit, a bottle of wine is in a small bowl filled with ice, and the bathtub is filled with bubbles, scent of the used salt nicely filling the air. as you undress, you ask hoyoung to join you. though he’s taken aback for a second, he agrees. soon, you two enter the filled bathtub, and the much-wanted and extremely needed relaxation slowly takes over your body.
your back rests on his chest as your muscles slowly give in and relax thanks to the water’s temperature. soon, hoyoung asks if you want a massage and in no time after you saying yes, his hands reach to your shoulders. and that’s when you take him off-track again. because you grab his hands and guide them lower and to your front.
“i want you so bad, baby,” you say when placing his hands on your tits, head turning to the side to look at your boyfriend as much as you can; the desperate look you give him and the way you whisper those words has him in a chokehold. though he smiles and leans forward to meet your face.
“whatever makes my darling happy.” and with a gentle kiss, hoyoung starts to caress your body. his palms go lower and lower your body with each kiss he’s giving you. the thought of a sweet release provided but no one else but hoyoung, your sweet, sweet boyfriend, is already turning your brain into mush. “darling, slow down. it won’t be so fun if we rush things.”
you try to complain but your brain has signed off. all there’s left is mush and desire mixed with lust and sexy thoughts including your boyfriend. he sees how desperate you are, how much you want it, and he understands it. but he also knows that without preparation it’ll only hurt both him and you. so that’s why his hand cups your pussy, caressing the folds with his fingers.
“i’ll make you feel so good, darling. focus on me and i’ll do you so fine you forget that you were so stressed in the first place,” that’s what hoyoung whispers into your lips before placing a long and hasteful kiss, distraction to his finger pushing slowly past your folds. you whimper in content at the feeling, closing your eyes a bit but quickly opening them when you feel his thumb on your clit. “i love those sounds of yours. i love to hear your voice and all those lewd noises you make. it’s so fucking hot, darling.”
every time it takes you by surprise how the sweet hoyoung can say such dirty things… but you love it. it only turns you two on even more, causing you to moan softly against his lips as he kisses you again, and again, thrusting his finger in and out, soon adding the second one.
“can you take another one, darling?” his eyes darkened with lust now are clouded with worry but when you squirm in his embrace, already being a moaning mess, he can’t hold himself for so long. with the other hand, he’s cupping one of your tits, fondling it and playing with your already hardened and incredibly sensitive nipple. “cum for me, darling. you’re doing so great and i’d like to devour you soon but we’ll take our time…”
he’s whispering those words right into your ear. his voice always makes you weak, especially when he’s whispering and breathing right on your neck. because you know that with his whispers he’s about to sloppily kiss his way from your ear to your shoulder, leaving some marks by the way as well. and that’s the final straw to your high.
“my pretty darling, done so well. i’m proud of you.” hoyoung says with a smile that says a lot: he’s in awe, he’s lovestruck, he’s savoring the feeling of your walls clamping on his fingers and how you ride out your ecstasy. as you breathe heavily and fall tired on his chest, you smile at the view of his features; the overly cute smile hiding his eyes clouded with desire for you. you know you’re in for a ride and you’re happy to oblige.
as you whine when hoyoung pulls out his fingers, you know you’ll get the good stuff in a sec because you can feel his hard-on between your plushy ass-cheeks. chuckling at the thought, you grind a bit against his length, whining when hoyoung’s hands grab your hips and keep you in place for a second.
“don’t rush it. we have a lot of time.” but he himself can’t really hold it anymore. you whine again at his words but thankfully that state is not so long, since in a blink you’re being guided on his dick, slowly sinking down on his nicely-filling length. that’s when your mind shuts down completely; all you think about is to get yourself off thanks to the nice feeling of being full, as hoyoung hits all the good spots inside you.
you take his hand to guide it to your tit again, the other one tightly gripping hoyoung’s other hand to keep balance. and so you bounce on his dick, thoughts hazed with a fuzzy desire to cum on his length and to be filled with him for as long as you can. your boyfriend is doing everything he can to help you, nuzzling his face in your neck, pinching on your tits and nipples, thrusting into you as much as he can.
you have to admit, that’s a fantastic way to end a terrible week… or every week in general.
| VERIVERY-MASTERLIST | MAIN-MASTERLIST |
@ jikjinz / @ ness-iness 2023, do NOT copy, translate or repost!
[art used in the header is by ivan aivazovsky and is titled "ship in the stormy sea]
#verivery smut#fics: verivery#fics: hoyoung#bae hoyoung smut#bae hoyoung#hoyoung smut#hoyoung verivery#verivery
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Stampy's lovely world ending
Spoiker warning of course!
No idea how I'm formatting this but here we go i guess.
I wanted to start off discussing the ending, which people seem split on. I personally kind of found it weird that we didn't get Stampy and HTT calling a permanent truce consideribg fight to forgive made it seem like Stampy was on the slow path to making peace with HTT. I was kind of waiting for it, some reveal that HTT didn't design the trap in the nether since it was kind of Stampy who made the decision to go to the nether, that HTT was working for a higher power against his will or something, that Stampy would find something at HTT's castle that put everything into context, i was REALLY expecting some sort of fake-out ending where things ended on a definitive note but where HTT realized he didn't want the lovely world without Stampy and would invite him to stay or chase after him like Veeva did, but that didn't quite happen. HTT doesn't get any sort of closure one way or the other, it's just implied he owns lovely world now and it's all super lonely and a hallow victory but we don't see that confirmed.
That isn't to take away from the episode though. If that's how Stampy wanted to end it who am i to tell him otherwise? I can see the intent behind it and respect it even if it's gonna leave a hallow hole in my heart that i am forever scared to fill again due to fear of whatever i fill that void with ending too, or worse, the people behind it turn out to be huge jerks and the community doesn't feel very safe. Wait what was i talking about again? Oh yeah, Stampy cat. I won't knock it for the ending being a little too heavy on the bitter rather than the sweet, it's a good episode and i can always just download the world when the download is released and all that, and assuming Youtube doesn't go bankrupt and all of Stampy's older vids don't become lost media, i can at least go back and rewatch all those old series whenever.
On the subject of people making content to fill the void and hopefully fostering a safe and inclusive community though, as i said in the past, I hope the ending of Lovely world pushes people to make more fun long term family friendly but also genuine content like lovely world. Stampy made these minecraft videos for so long and it always felt fun to watch him, it felt like he was being genuine the whole way through, there weren't a bunch of fast pased annoying edits and Stampy didn't feel like he was putting on this loud in your face persona to keep our attention, and most importantly, he was super kind and inclusive and respectful on top of being so imaginative and creative. I really wish there were more content creators like that on the platform. LGBTQ+ kids don't really have a lot of spaces to go where they can feel so safe and i think it's important that they have those spaces where they feel welcome.
Not saying those spaces don't exist but even when Stampy was still actively making videos, those spaces were fairly few and far between. I just hope that more people who grew up on Stampy take this opportunity and we get a renaissance of people making videos like Stampy and fostering communities like Stampy's while also bringing their own things to the table. SMPs maybe kind of fill that void but they're not for everybody (me included) and not what I'm talking about. The only other person i can think of that is closer to what i mean is Sqaishey, who is also amazing and feather adventures is still going for the foreseeable future, i just think it'd be nice if there were more people like Stampy and Sqaishey for kids to look up to and feel welconed by, as i have reiterated like 9 times in the last minute because I'm not good at making my point or ending a post like this.
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I watched the trailers and read the Blizzcon '23 stuff on WoWhead.
Meh. Not the spark I was looking for to rekindle my passion for the game.
(Morose lack of enthusiasm for 11.0, and Shadowlands postmortem below.)
Instead of getting hyped for upcoming content, it just makes me feel bad about how little I care anymore.
I used to be on the edge of my seat, palms sweating, happily freaking out about new cinematics and new expansion releases. I would plan ahead and take time off to watch the Blizzcon livestream, and stock up on food I could eat while glued to the screen.
Today I got home from work and turned on my computer...and only then remembered that Blizzcon was today. After seeing the trailers and stuff I'm like, "Okay. I guess that's fine. Whatever."
[Garrosh voice] Times change. [/Garrosh voice]
I didn't expect the news about upcoming expansions to knock my socks off, though. If Dragonflight, an expansion that was practically custom-made to focus on my favorite lore, didn't rekindle my love for WoW, nothing was going to.
That said, I'm still underwhelmed. I can't say that Alleria, Thrall, and Magni are characters I'd be super excited to hang out with. (It was a nice touch to have Thrall going gray, though.)
Xal'atath (sp?) is pretty cool but forgive me for being wary considering the track record for female villains in this franchise.
Anduin...very mixed feelings there. I'm glad he's back, and it was nice to hear Josh Keaton's voice again. I don't recognize him physically anymore, except those baby blue eyes, which is probably why the cinematic spent so much time zoomed in uncomfortably close on his face. I get that that's the point, that he's grown up and gotten grizzled, but he looks and feels like a completely different person.
I think part of the problem is that we didn't get to see him changing. He went from dropping his sword to resurrect an army and being stubbornly optimistic in BFA, to weary but still full of the Light in the cutscenes with Sylvanas in Torghast, to completely blank (save one glimmer) while under Zovaal's domination, to this broken, unstable, self-loathing shell of a man in the 11.0 cinematic. Even if we're generous and count the tiny conversation with Sylvanas at the end of her novel, we have to just imagine what happened to him in between then and now. It's okay to ask the audience to fill in some implied developments, but this is jarring. (I suppose it's possible we'll see more characterization in-game between now and then. I'm not optimistic, though.)
I imagine Anduin will go through an arc where the Light comes back to him, or he finds some kind of peace again and reclaims his throne, but I don't have the patience to wait around for it to happen, or the confidence that it would be done well.
I also can't separate the character's angst with the real-world consequences of Shadowlands sucking as hard as it did. Yeah, Anduin, you've been through absolute hell--so have we. You haven't recovered--and neither have I.
When they had him do the "Arthas pointing Frostmourne just left of the camera lens" pose, instead of going "Ooh, I recognize that! That was cool!" it just reminded me of all the times they did fanservice callbacks to the Lich King in Shadowlands, only to shit all over that part of lore. That's the last thing I want to be reminded of.
It was a bold move to reveal the names and story hooks of the next two expansions, but rather than whet my appetite it just removed the hope that "maybe the next expansion will be better." Nope, it'll be more of the cosmic bullshit that I don't care about: Light, Void, Titans, etc. It's okay in small doses, but it's not the kind of story that pulled me in and made me fall in love with the world.
I hate to say it, but this might be the nail in the coffin for me. I definitely miss the glory days of WoW when it was a huge part of my life and I got so much enjoyment out of it, but I'm beginning to realize that those days aren't coming back. When I think of all the hours and dollars I invested in the franchise it makes me want to cry--not that I regret any of it. I just wish the spark hadn't gone out for me.
I had been so immersed for so many years that maybe it was just time for it to run its course. The social climate has also changed a lot for me, from a thriving guild during MoP, to sporadic bursts of people logging on in Legion and early BFA, to a ghost town in mid-to-late BFA and SL. Strangers can be rude and elitist, making pugging more stressful than fun. I've also been concentrating a lot on my own original writing in the last year.
Those are factors, to be sure, but I do have to lay a lot of the blame on Shadowlands. I had gotten past so-so expansions before. Cataclysm wasn't the best, but all the Firelands stuff was fun, and some of my favorite dragons got screen time. MOP was freaking fantastic. WoD was a dud expansion for me, but there was enough to keep me busy and playing right up to the end. Legion was awesome. BFA wasn't great, and the loss of Teldrassil left a very sour taste, but it had good leveling content, some fun characters, and generally enough stuff going on to tide me over. It was going in a pattern of great expansion, not-so-good expansion, great expansion, not-so-good expansion, and that was okay.
Then Shadowlands came, and it was grimdark, overly serious, cosmic-scale stuff, headed by the most aggressively boring villain the series had ever had. There were a ton of new characters, and, except for Denathrius, Renathal, and Theotar (and Merileth and his slimes, in small doses), none of them interested me. The game systems somehow became even more fiddly, complicated and confusing time sinks than they were in BFA. The afterlife setup barely made sense, conflicted with past lore, complicated future lore, and was ultimately depressing as hell--you probably won't spend eternity with your loved ones, and even if you do, you'll probably end up as a blip of red energy that gets consumed and then cease to exist at all. That's just how I want to imagine all my favorite Warcraft characters ending up! (We probably didn't see Tirion Fordring because some blue guy in a toga needed his anima to grow better grapes. FFS.)
But the worst aspect of Shadowlands, IMO, was the way the pre-existing characters were done dirty--every single one of them.
I don't know you manage to take one of the greatest paladins of all time, then turn him into fiery overlord of the undead, and have him be boring, but there's Bolvar. Get that man a throat lozenge and some personality. Taelia got cameos in which they mentioned their relationship, but nothing ever came of it. He was a father figure to Anduin in the king's youth, but you wouldn't know it by what they did/said in SL. Going by BFA and SL, freaking Saurfang was more of a father figure to Anduin than Bolvar, who literally raised him for several years of his childhood.
Nathanos got an epic sendoff courtesy of Tyrande in the prepatch, then got teased a few times without ever appearing or mattering again.
Sylvanas was a mess. I don't need to get into details; we all know the trainwreck of a story. The concept of making her soul complete again so she had to come to terms with what she had done was a promising one, but it was handled so clumsily and briefly that it was ultimately frustrating.
The less said about the Jailer, the better. I wanted so badly to like Zovaal, but he was the most flat, boring, paint-by-numbers Saturday morning cartoon villain in the franchise's history. Not interesting, not sympathetic, not fleshed out, not funny, not charismatic, not sexy, not scary--none of the things past Blizzard villains had going for them.
Uther's story was one of the better ones, but because of how closely tied it was to Arthas' story, and the unforgivably bad way that was handled, it ultimately fizzled.
Thrall was...fine? The bits with his mom were neat, but I couldn't stop thinking about what a crappy afterlife it would be to constantly fight, spy, scheme, and play politics, all while the supposed love of her life is nowhere to be seen. Poor Durotan.
Baine famously, frustratingly, amusingly in an if-you-don't-laugh-you'll-cry kind of way, did jack squat in the entire expansion. I know his arc got cut for time, but regardless of the reason he was yet another character whose involvement in SL was disappointing.
Jaina was wasted. Her history with Arthas (and, to a lesser extent, Anduin) could have made for some memorable, heart-wrenching story, but instead she was just a generic sorceress. That was especially disappointing given the respectful, deep treatment her character got in BFA. I know not every character can have the spotlight in every story arc, but the complete lack of personality she had in SL was especially jarring in contrast.
Anduin's arc should have been interesting, but we never got into his head enough to really feel what he was feeling. We had that glimpse of his horror after stabbing the Archon, and he left his father's compass as a clue, but those were fleeting moments open to interpretation and not enough to offset the blank slate we got the rest of the time. Even that would have been forgivable, given the limits of storytelling in a game, but the thing that sticks in my craw the most is that constant, blatant Arthas parallels led to...nothing. Anduin would have been just as devastated to be mind-controlled into doing evil stuff even if Arthas had never existed. Arthas meant nothing to Anduin. The only time he met the man was as an infant. They weren't related. Nobody in-universe was comparing them. Garrosh compared himself to Arthas in the War Crimes novel, and Anduin fleetingly thought about Arthas when he befriended Calia in Before the Storm, but that's it. Even as hokey as it would have been to make Anduin secretly Jaina and Arthas' son, at least that would have explained two expansions' worth of in-your-face parallels between the two characters. But no. It all came across as fanservice--or fan teasing--and had no payoff.
Speaking of Arthas, arguably the most famous and recognizable character in the franchise (competing with Illidan and Scantily-Clad Female Night Elf #17 for the top spot)...
After being teased about his possible involvement or whereabouts all expansion long, after they milked every possible drop of nostalgia out of his story in an attempt to make SL palatable, after all the flashing red arrows calling our attention to parallels between him and Anduin, despite his importance to three prominent characters (Uther, Sylvanas, and Jaina), Arthas never did anything (boss mechanics don't count), never had a line of dialogue, never appeared in a form we recognized, got insulted and belittled by Sylvanas one last time, and disappeared in a flicker of blue plasma that was less impressive than a drunk frat boy lighting his farts with a match.
So yeah. Toss Shadowlands in the trash heap (except Sire Denathrius). It was so bad it tainted the entire franchise for me, so that I couldn't even enjoy the long-awaited dragonpalooza that followed.
Phew, that was a long rant, and the first time I've written about WoW in ages. I guess it just goes to show that I have deep roots in the franchise that come along with strong feelings--which makes it all the harder to accept that I may not even buy the next expansion. I suppose I'll weaken when the time comes, but I'm certainly not shelling out for the collector's edition or other bells and whistles.
But then the Li'l Wrathion in-game pet stares at me from another browser tab, and I think about the new Wrathion plushie, and I'm like...DAMN IT, why couldn't you have done this years ago? :(
Anyway, sorry to be a downer, but I'm kind of in mourning, in a weird way, as I come to terms with the way I feel--or more importantly, don't feel--about Warcraft now.
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Hello, all! I've been a burnt out recently and development is at a standstill but I wanted to share a bit about the project I've been working on. This seems like a good place as any to monologue into the void, so here it is:
Breakdown:
Lorcana Unofficial is a single-player desktop application for building and playing with a collection of digital Lorcana cards against AI opponents in challenges and campaigns. You begin the game with 30 cards of 2 different colors (total 60, your choice of colors) and can build with whatever cards you unlock afterward.
Features:
Card Browser - This program originally started as a fun way to look up cards and get some analysis and fun facts about how those cards related in the pool of available options. You can search by name or other criteria to narrow things down to the perfect cards. Card lookups also feature a Collection Tracker, so you can tally how many of each variant you own in your physical collections.
Deck Builder - Card searching gets extra mileage here in the deck builder, where you can load and save combinations of your cards however you like. There are no restrictions on deck-building (amount, color, etc), and all decks you design are saved locally.
Card Shop & Currency - One of the most fun things about a TCG is opening booster packs. The card shop comes with this option, and also randomly rolls 4 cards that aren't currently present in your collection, to give you some control over your buying power (all currency is in-game currency, earned through playing the game!).
Campaigns & The Game - Lorcana seems to be designed with a story in mind, and I built my program with the goal of allowing players to follow those stories. To that end, each campaign has levels to follow with plenty of challenges for the player to pit their cards against. Everything is tracked and displayed automatically, letting you focus on the flow of the game rather than the intricacies of remembering every single rule. Go forth and become the best Illumineer you can be!
Scalability:
The game intends to release new sets fairly consistently, and as such, the program is designed in a way that allows me to update cards and campaigns without interfering with existing save data. :)
Other:
Thanks to being an indie dev and agent of chaos I could potentially add any card I wanted (imaginary or otherwise) to this system, allowing for absolutely zany AI challenges or broken options for the player to use. Just something to think about (I think about Sephiroth a lot, he's kind of Disney canon, right?). Special thanks to VintageCCG's card creator for already inspiring a wealth of amazing community ideas for this game.
If you made it this far, thank you so much for your time (and potentially your interest). Once the system is in a workable state (and enough content is released for it to be playable) I will be providing playtest times in the future, before a full release, and would love your feedback.
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(Article) Starfield Steam reviews are sliding fast.
Well, it's been a month now since Starfield has released, and players have really let loose on the internet about how they feel. Good and bad reviews have popped up on Steam, Metacritic, and the Xbox store.
My main focus here is going to be on Steam for a few reasons . It's easier to sort by play time and alot easier to find other reviews rather than just "Xbox Exclusive Bad".
Underlying numbers kind of shows the 75%. Alot of people want to talk about review bombing but what about review lifting? Review inflation? Whatever you want to call it, the first day of reviews should probably be disqualified based merit. If you don't like that idea, then you're telling me more than 20 thousand people played the game enough to give a thoughtful review? I doubt it.
The reviews that I put in here will be from people who have put in over 100 hours. For a game this size and with how much there is to do I think that would be best.
After a pretty lengthy review and 170 hours played, one user said:
"I regret taking the time to bond with my companions, talking with every NPC, flying & running around scanning the planets, and lockpicking every door or chest I encountered. Overall, I regret completing the main story. I can't believe I'm saying this, but IGN was right about the 7/10."
It's hard to disagree with what he said. There was alot of hype in NG+, even the CEO of Xbox said "The game doesn't start until you beat the game" and what happens after? You get a new ship that can fast travel anywhere in the galaxy and all of the loot, weapons, and everything you had is all gone. The ship cannot be expanded upon, and you're given a new space suit.
149 hours played and multiple paragraphs. Another user said:
"The writing in this game is AWFUL. Image if you will, you are a new corpo grunt, your first day as an intern and boom you find out the CEO is selling company secrets. So you confront them, kill them and everyone loves you for it from this one piece of 'evidence' and gives you a promotion. This is Starfield in a nut shell."
"I have 1000+ hour in Fallout 4 for example. I will never hit that in Starfield. It's just not that interesting.
No vehicles
No atmospheric flight
No groundbreaking features
No taming
ZERO Aliens..."
It's hard for me to disagree with anything this reviewer said. I can even expand upon it. 90% of the "aliens" in this are gigantic insects with no intelligence at all. I understand that space might not have a lot of aliens in our neck of the woods, but this is a video game. Put some aliens in it! Outposts are stupid, copy pasted time wasters.
Final one 114 hours played. This is the full review:
I was expecting a game i could play for 100s or thousands of hours but after just 100 hours i can say i have beat the entire game and done everything. It is bland and nothing like the interesting games we were previously given... Biggest disappointment of 2023 worst rpg i have ever played... all bland procedural content that is the same on every planet. Their is no interesting characters or unique items to chase after. It is literally 6 quest lines and a main quest line that take a 100 hours to complete then their is nothing but small meaning less quest that are all similar with the same places and dialogue in different planets.
Bland, meaningless content that's procedurally generated. And that's the common theme. It's Kwibblekop AI bad, dull, and void of any emotion.
So yeah, looking at actual negative reviews of the game with valid criticism is reinforcing the score I gave it. 6.5.
Did you like Starfield? Do you think reviews that are posted should have a time limit? Do you believe in review inflation? Anything new you're playing? Let me know! Thanks for reading!
You can catch me live on Twitch every weekday from 8pm-12am. Link is below!
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Tagged by @gellavonhamster ^^
Last song: "Та, що танцює з вітром” (She Who Dances With The Wind) as sung by some volunteers and sent me by my friend who’s one of them! I don’t actually um. know or listen to this song? i dont dislike it i just. havent been doing music a lot lately. but it was on my desktop named whatever Viber names its files and I was like “wtf is this” and listened to the whole thing so it counts ^^
Last show/currently watching: uhhhhh. Little Demon I guess. haven’t been doing a lot of watching either, but I have a tab for that one optimistcally open, so. It counts.
Currently reading: oh boy my royalroad follow list is. long. and that’s not even all i’m reading. Anyway let’s fucking go
- Practical Guide To Evil re-release on Yonder
- Pale Lights by the same author
- Summus Proelium on ceruleanscrawling.wordpress.com
- Pale by wildbow
- (now for the royalroad stuff) Quill and Still
- Battle Trucker
- I Will Touch The Skies
- Dungeon Tour Guide
- The Type Specialist
- When Imortal Ascension Fails Time Travel To Try Again
- The Path Of Ascension
- Cheep
- Edge Cases
- Reincarnated into a Time-Loop Dungeon as a LVL100 Catgirl Chef!
- Fated to Fall
- The Level Zero Hero
- Millenial Mage
- Stray Cat Strut
- This Used To Be About Dungeons
- Demesne
- Apocalypse Parenting
- The Girl with the Fishbowl Head
- Nowhere Stars
- The Hedge Wizard
- Trace
- Borne of Caution
- Ar'Kendrithyst
- The Heart Grows
- Double-Blind
- Singer Sailor Merchant Mage
- System Error
- Delve
- Azarinth Healer
- Fantasia
- Beware of Chicken
- Doing God’s Work
- Borne of Caution
- RE: Trailer Trash
- Villager Three
- Tower of Somnus
- Pokemon Trainer Vicky
- Accidentally A Shrine Priestess
...ok I’m dipping into some serious optimism about what I’m “reading in an ongoing way” vs what is solidly on indefinite hiatus, let’s cut off archeology at this point...
still, this is after filtering for stuff I actually respect >.>
the list of webcomics I follow should be shorter, being as how I don’t have a centralized follow page for them so it’s just what I remember to check
- Dumbing of Age
- Questionable Content
- El Goonish Shive
- Freefall
- Selkie
- Sister Claire
- Ava’s Demon
- Girl Genius
...yeah, that’s Normal
Current obsession: I’m actually sortaaa inbetween? and not in a nice way? PGTE is serving as a decent placeholder though
Tagging @theothin, @triviallytrue, @seguun, @auraphantom, @vaspider, @fipindustries, @yd12k, @normal-with-adhd-is-a-joke, @wumblr, @gwennafran, @void-of-many-colours, @wardencommanderrodimiss, @rizaoftheowls, @st-just, @nonasuch, @nonanalogue, @hellmasterphibrizo, @the-goblin-cat, @charlesoberonn, @bookhobbit, @luvbloggingandreblogging, @zenosanalytic, @dahniwitchoflight
went on a trawl through my “following” list for this one. i know a normal amount of people on this website. anyway i love yall and hope as many of you answer this as possible ^^
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Album Showcase: SYL - Strapping Young Lad
This was an awaking for me as a teenager. I think this was one of the earliest exposures I got to metal that was considered very heavy and aggressive. Beforehand the metal bands I was familiar with was stuff like Avenged Sevenfold, Bullet for my Valentine, Bloodsimple, Disturbed, Linkin Park, etc. So this was very different for me.
Content warning/trigger warning for some discussion about war (mainly the Iraq war), discussion of rape, and mention of 9/11.
The album’s cover of a white feather covered in blood is not the most notable cover I have seen. Though the cover was not what mattered to me as a teen.
Strapping Young Lad, sometimes shorten to SYL, was an extreme metal band from Canada formed in 1994. One of the most notable things about this band is the lead singer is Devin Townsend. Yes, THAT Devin Townsend. This band was before he did the Devin Townsend band and Devin Townsend Project. Though looking through Devin’s discography he has done a LOT. I will eventually tackle ALL Devin has done but that is in due time.
Around December 2001 Devin announced an album would be released in 2002. Though there were earlier statements he made seemed like that wouldn’t happen. Okay so at the end of 1988 the band went on hiatus. Devin went off doing solo work and producing other artists’ albums. While the rest of the band also did their own projects. As that was happening Devin was having issues with the label Century Media and struggling with bipolar disorder. He did check himself into psychiatric care in early 1988 though that doesn’t mean that everything was going smoothly. Both of these are what was added to the hiatus of the band. Devin stated,
“What happened? I signed a shitty deal, but luckily it was non-exclusive. I got tired of doing Strapping so I said, 'I can't do it anymore.' Then I freaked out and went into a hospital. My lawyer said that I was under mental duress when I signed the contract so the contract is void. At that point it was like, 'I just won't do another Strapping record.' Yeah, I went down saying 'CM was the shittiest label ever.' And they went down as saying that I was 'a complete, arrogant psychopath.' ”
Though he stated above that he changed his mind. He made it clear that he was not doing this to generate record sales. Instead this came from “creative anger” which was sparked by...the September 11 attacks. Which that happened when they were on tour during that year. You know, I knew going back on writing about music I listened to in the early 2000s that there as a chance I would mention 9/11. I just didn’t expect it from a Canadian band of all things. This was the first Strapping Young Lad album to be written by all the band members. That may sound strange and to me it did as well but when I was researching, this band did start out as Devin’s one man studio project. The fact it took eight to nine years for this to happen is fascinating. During the 2001 Foot in Mouth Tour the band wrote half of the album while the rest would be finished up at home starting January 2002. They played at some festivals that spring and afterwards went and recorded the album in September. On February 11th, 2003 the self-titled album was released and it was apparently the band’s first top charting album. That is pretty cool.
Before I move onto the album I should say that I have only listened to one song from this. I don’t know why teen me only listened to one song from it and didn’t look more into it but whatever. This will all be new to me and I am genuinely exited. Also, I remembered where I first heard of the band. It was from the movie adaptation of Alone in the Dark soundtrack. I don’t think I even saw the movie, I watched a review of it, but not the actual thing. But I do remember finding some good songs on the movie soundtrack. Well anyway lets see what the band’s first charting album is like.
Track 1: Dire
The first track just sets a nice mood. Brooding but also just pumps you with energy. There isn’t much lyrically but I don’t think that detracts from the song.
Track 2: Consequence
After Dire is smoothly transitions to Consequences which I have seen a video that combines the two. It keeps the momentum from the first track and mostly keeps it there. Which while it doesn’t really have a release to the build up which I am surprised by since I was expecting it to just build up to something and have a big release. Like the guitar, bass, and drums do a job on this track. I mean vocally it...kind of does? Okay not really. Oh yeah, this track has lyrics. This song is about...it’s about...what is this song about? I know it has to do with humanity..but what about humanity? The hatred humans have? The love humans have? I know Satan is mentioned but does that mean something. Either I am not getting it or it is not meant to be deep. The lyrics are there, I have no strong opinions on them. This track does feel like the instrumentals is what you are mainly meant to listen to and ignore the lyrics.
Track 3: Relentless
Consequences also smoothly transitions into Relentless and as I re-listened to this I wondered why Dire, Consequence, and Relentless weren’t just combined? When I listened to the whole album as I was working on this stuff I genuinely thought I was still on the first song or something. This track also has lyrics and I think this is about war and how this destruction is relentless. I think anyway. It is uh hard to tell what a lot of this is about because if I had no prior context about how 9/11 affected the creation of the album I would be mostly lost. Wait, this song has a music video maybe that’ll help. Okay so there is a machine smashing human skulls...and the band is playing their song to a crowd of fans...who are being held back by a fence cage thing. Devin please, help me. I am trying to understand.
Track 4: Rape Song
Oh no. With a title like that, the time period that this was made in, and the genre it is from I was not having high hopes for the song. I assumed going in this was gonna be an edgy track about the subject since metal is filled with many songs about “killing and raping bitches and/or corpses” sort of deal. But instead this is actually an anti-rape song. Though that is hard to tell even reading the lyrics only make that clear near the end. Though despite this being an anti-rape song there have been those who took it as a pro-rape song in a terrible way. Devin has regretted making this song which I can 100% get why. While I am glad he was angry enough to try to make a song that hates rapists I don’t think he did a good job really capturing that. Instrumentally this track is all right but the instrumentals don’t save this song.
Track 5: Aftermath
Well let’s see if this song can get the not great taste of the last song out of my mouth. Well instrumentally so far so good. A nice build up, not an outstanding one, but nice. The lyrics of this song at least are clear but GOD they are very in your face. Like yes, we know war is bad. Yes, the war for oil and killing innocent people is genuinely awful but the lyrics are...well they are not on the level of System of a Down. Now I get that Devin and the band wrote this not long after 9/11 so the emotions were fresh. I also get the Iraq war was happening which was very divisive for the time and even today. I can tell this was written from pure emotion. Which while I can somewhat respect I just think this song needed more polish.
Track 6: Devour
Now this was the track I first heard by the band! I still like the song to this day though that could be nostalgia talking. Lyrically it is simple while I don’t fully know what it is about besides death. Instrumentals carry this to be a banger on the album. But I will say this is so far the strongest track on the album. I think because the sound and lyrics work well together as a simple angry song. No wonder this song was chosen from the Alone in the Dark movie soundtrack.
Track 7: Last Minute
The instrumentation sounds nice. The lyrics are...there I guess. Is it about war? Maybe I don’t know. This track exists.
Track 8: Force Fed
Okay, this is the other strong track on the album. Not as good as Devour but it at least stands out on the album. What is this track about? Does it actually matter? I mean I guess it is about finding oneself? Sure, why not.
Track 9: Dirt Pride
I was about to basically shrug at this song until I read the lyrics and it is one of the only comedic songs on the album. I mean with lyrics like,
Dripping... Seeping
Dripping... Leaking
Dripping... Cabbages
and
Dripping... Gigbutt
Dirt Pride... My pride
Dripping... Bunksock
and the line,
Wash my fucking balls
I think that makes me somewhat like the song but it feels a little too late because we are already almost done with the album.
Track 10: Bring On the Young
The last track on the album and instrumentally it is the most stand out tracks because it is a slow and somber sounding song. The build up and this being the least heavy instrumentally sounding songs on the whole album. The lyrics are very clearly about being the war is hell but I think it works better than Aftermath. Mainly because I think I can feel the emotion more on this track. The chanting really adds a lot to the song. Also how high pitch Devin can get on the track is pretty neat.
I was originally going to cover Detox and Underneath the Waves since those were bonus tracks on the album but then found out they originally came from the album City so I’ll cover those songs when I cover that album.
This album was...underwhelming. It is interesting they went more for a death metal route than their extreme metal and industrial metal sound from their previous albums. Furthermore this was a raw production which is not really a common style for Devin. Though Devin would look back on this album saying it was “murky” and “dreadful sounding” along with claiming he “phoned it in”. Which I can believe all of that to be honest. Is this a bad album? Not really since the sound is pretty solid. Actually, if all the songs were instrumental I think it would be a lot better of an album. However, this was a forgettable album. A lot of the songs I couldn’t really remember on the top of my head with the exception of Devour. But I think the only reason I could remember that track was because I listened to it as a teen.
#Strapping Young Lad album#Strapping Young Lad#album review#music review#Devin Townsend#long post#death metal#rape tw#war tw#blood#album showcase
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