#while likely simultaneously being Weird about it every single time...

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #50 — The Midlife Crisis Cruise Comes to an End

Our issue begins on Earth— not Swearth, but honest-to-god Earth— where Optimus Prime and Jetfire are watching a broadcast. It’s not syndicated television like I Love Lucy or The Transformers (1984), however. No, this broadcast is coming from some of our favorite Lost Lighters, detailing their last will and testament.

Nautica wants to be buried on her home planet, and doesn’t give a hot gay fuck what they engrave on her sparkcase. Also she’s missing a good chunk of her face, but don’t worry about that too much.

Chromedome’s just happy that he’s dying WITH his husband this go around. I’m sure Brainstorm’s also thrilled to not have the “please please please stop stabbing yourself in the brain to avoid the pain of being a widower Jesus Christ we can’t keep doing this”.

Rewind takes the opportunity to poke Chromedome in the inferiority complex one last time, making his message out to Dominus Ambus. Our resident lovebirds want to “enter the after spark simultaneously”, though that seems more like something to address with whoever’s killing them.

Over on Cybertron, in Metroplex’s titties, it would seem this broadcast is VERY wideband, as Starscream and Scoop (we’ll go over whatever the fuck’s going on there in another post) witness Nightbeat’s will and testament, though considering Nightbeat’s technically undead, I’m not sure how much legal weight it holds. Having done the whole “dying” thing before, I’m sure he’s spent many a long, sleepless night thinking about how it would happen next time. Ikea Johnson wants a “Neoprimalist” funeral, where they preserve only the head. Interesting that Nightbeat's religious sect is the same as Flywheels, the Scavenger who only existed to be a stand-in for the word "fuck".

Over on Luna 1, Red Alert is convinced that Megatron is using his gun mode to threaten Nightbeat. Fort Max isn’t so sure.

Minimus shows off the most recent trick he’s learned, saying the word “fun” with only stuttering twice. He wants to be buried on the moon, next to all of Rodimus’s failed pregnancies, and wearing the skin of a man who’s been dead for thousands of years.

Whirl doesn’t want a funeral, though you’d think he’d at least want his corpse thrown in the general direction of the Wreckers’ base, where every member gets a slot in the Zone of Remembrance as part of the onboarding. I know he got kicked out, but being shot out of a rail gun at Debris sounds roughly his speed.

Rung only requests that, should he die in his vape pen form, that he be dismantled. He’s so committed to preventing underage smoking, and for that I commend him.

Rung’s request greatly disturbs the Scavengers, who seem to have forgone fixing the Krok-shaped hole in the wall and buying a couch more than two of them can sit on at a time, in order to afford a replacement TV, after Krok fastball-specialed a golden disc through the last one.

On another part of Cybertron, Windblade and Wheeljack watch Velocity state that she doesn’t regret a single thing that’s happened while she’s been a part of the Lost Light. To recap, in the few months Velocity’s been aboard: Thunderclash almost died of being too perfect, Velocity’s first boss ran off to go bang a billionaire with a sword collection, Swerve almost died from too much television, her second boss ran off to get roped into the Polycule Wars, Tailgate exploded, Rung was revealed to be practicing without a license by way of a weird gibbon with a ball gag and his serial killer boyfriend, and she became the only practicing medical professional aboard a ship of over 200, after failing to pass her medical exams ten times. Oh, and she wants to be recycled.

Optimus wants to go save them, thinking that there’s still time. However, the Lost Light isn’t responding, and it doesn’t actually matter anyhow— these recording were sent out weeks ago.

Looks like that’s a series wrap on Nautica, Chromedome, Rewind, Nightbeat, Minimus, Whirl, Rung, and Velocity! Let’s give ‘em a hand, folks!

Three weeks prior, on the planet of Miliarium, action is happening:

Being on your headset in the middle of a battle seems rather rude, but I suppose sacrifices to politeness have to be made, when one of your co-captains is effectively forbidden from stepping foot on any planet that’s aware of Cybertron’s existence, given that he, y’know, is the face of a cause that slaughtered billions over the course of millions of years.

(No, don’t ask Optimus how relations with Earth are going.)

Megatron, continuing to command from orbit, tells Whirl to go help Cyclonus and Crossblades with the Rust Giants’ longship, asking for no casualties. Which is sort of like asking a horse on cocaine to not freak out and kick someone in the head, if that horse also had guns tied to 30% of its body.

Rodimus asks Megatron if he’s enjoying himself, playing a pacifist run of a wartime strategy game with their lives, and Megatron says that he’s “rumbled”; which I’m not sure if I’m search-engining wrong, but I don’t know that even the British are saying that to mean they’re right chuffed or tallywackered about a situation, or whatever. Rodimus is suddenly faced with a Rust Giant that he doesn’t even come up to the knee of, but luckily we have a new superhero to save the day, by way of incredible violence.

Looks like we’re still workshopping the battle-cries.

Tailgate punched this guy so hard it cause a jump-cut to the post-battle celebration, where Rodimus shows off his multi-typefacial abilities, Megatron perpetrates his bigotry towards organics, the Cybertronians make galactic news for a not-awful reason for once, and Swerve is also here! For some reason! It looks like it’s gonna be all peaches and cream from here on, so long as we ignore the first three pages of this issue!

Hey, Cyclonus, you have to wait for him to call you, you're not an Autobot. Just because the little white guy you're Sufjan Stevens-level attached to is going, doesn't mean— Cyclonus, hey. Hey, Cyclonus. Cyclonus. Cycl—

Later, back on the Lost Light, class is in session. We finally get a look at those course Megatron’s been teaching, only briefly mentioned by Riptide in issue #29. The current course track is on the Knights of Cybertron, Megatron having assigned those in attendance to write essays tackling “pre-Functionist folklore and contested heritage”.

Today’s class consists of:

Minimus (old as balls, former high society)

Skids (the best at everything)

Brainstorm (literal genius)

Perceptor (slightly-less-literal genius)

Nautica (jack-of-all-trades brainiac and bibliophile)

Crosscut (former senator, current playwright, therefore probably has at least some sort of degree)

Nightbeat (nosy as fuck, loves to figure shit out)

Hound (former Primal Vanguard)

Thunderclash (perfect student, researcher, friend, confidante, and maybe even lover)

Grapple (not much to say here, other than he’s fucking jacked in IDW)

Xaaron (chief legal advisor for the Autobots)

And Riptide (created during the war and therefore has the least connection to Cybertron's folklore, canonically not a good test-taker)

Poor Riptide's grades don’t stand a snowball's chance in hell against his peers', but good on him for sticking with the classes regardless.

This essay was assigned to help students establish context for the Knights within a world where they have not existed for millions of years, having disappeared since they embarked on their quest to Cyberutopia; a world where information creep, the slow degradation of memory as time passes, has made them into mythological figures. Megatron posits that the only thing we really know about the Knights is that they failed to do what they set out to do, as the universe is not a peaceful place, himself arguably being exhibit A of that failure. Still, he intends to use this course to help the Lost Light’s crew understand the Knights to the best of their current, modernity-biased ability, prior to potentially meeting them. Considering that the Knights will be deciding Megatron’s fate, perhaps this is also for him to grapple with understanding his own end.

Anyway, let’s look at a plot device.

The last time we saw this symbol was during issue #46, both drawn by Grimlock on his walls, paired with the words “prepare confront repel”, and then on some mysterious fellows who were working with Krok’s nasty little friend Demus and someone called "The Grand Architect". However, the first time we saw it was with Skids in #21, after he went through Tyrest’s space bridge and talked to a giant technicolor ball of light.

Seeing this image kickstarts Skids’s memory, enough so that he interrupts class over it. Nautica has also seen this symbol, at an exhibit on Troja Major (a planet that Roberts will use as a dumping ground for many plot points in the sequel series to MTMTE) where it was claimed to be some sort of coat of arms. Thunderclash also knows this symbol, having seen it with his beautiful mind and kind heart in his visions, the same visions that were leading him to the Knights and allowing him to create a map to Cyberutopia. Nautica asks Skids to write out the symbol that he “heard” phonetically into her space phone, in a move that will prove HIGHLY useful later on. Perceptor adds in his two cents, showing off that he’s wearing the “feminine” nose-type today, stating that he had talked to one of the Circle of Light members back in Season 1, who had theorized that the Knights of Cybertron was either originally made up of OR broke down into clans, and that the symbol/map Rodimus and Thunderclash were drawing is merely connected to part of the Knights, and that there could be others floating around.

Nightbeat thinks that all this brainstorming (which hasn’t involved Brainstorm, oddly enough) is super cool and great, showing off his anime thumb in approval. When Minimus tries to give Megatron props for bringing everyone together to figure this out, he finds that Megatron is having some troubles, hunched over his podium as far as his fucked up old man toy articulation will allow. When Minimus approaches to see what’s wrong, he gets punched clear across the room for his troubles. Then this happens:

Look, I don’t care if 99.9% of the Cybertronian population can reclaim, you shouldn’t just limp your wrist at your first officer in the middle of class.

No, what Megatron is actually doing is pointing the fusion cannon he doesn’t have anymore, but had attached to his arm for roughly 4 million years, directly at Minimus’s tiny little skull. Quickly coming back to himself, Megatron is both horrified and mortified by what he’s done, offering nothing more but a quick apology before he dismisses the class and bolts, not even helping Minimus off of the floor.

The following day, Velocity’s paying a visit to Megatron’s room, which is STILL as barren as the most dire of single male living spaces. Velocity’s here because Megatron missed his appointment yesterday, after whatever happened in the classroom. Megatron reminds her that the weekly appointment is for him receiving his ration of “fool’s energon” which is meant to keep him in a weakened state, which arguably shouldn’t make it medicine in the traditional sense. Velocity reminds him that he nearly knocked Minimus Ambus’s (yeah, she uses his full name, guess she’s not been around long enough to get “just Minimus” privileges) block off, and that if Megatron had been at full strength, we might be dealing with a murder situation instead.

Though Minimus IS a load bearer, who regularly slings around a body three times his size, on top of weapons, so maybe not. Also, there’s an even smaller guy inside the first mustached guy, so honestly it’d probably be fine.

Does Velocity even know about the irreducible Minimus? Is that in his medical history? Does she even know that Ultra Magnus and Minimus Ambus are the same person? Because Megatron didn’t even know until they found that corpse on the quantum duplicate Lost Light, and Magnus was his lawyer for the trial as well as being his SIC. Really, what are the legal ramifications of Minimus having assumed the identity of a dead man, now that Tyrest isn’t there to keep up the charade and the secret is a bit more open? Does Minimus have legal claim to Magnus’s identity, or at least ownership of the armor? Can Minimus lay claim to any property he purchased as Magnus, or that the previous Magnuses had purchased prior to their deaths? Was Minimus legally declared dead prior to undertaking the role of Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord, if only to make things easier in terms of paperwork? Can Minimus sign off on things, and if so, does he use his own signature, or Magnus’s? If he signed something as Magnus, would any contract bearing it be rendered temporarily void whenever he’s not wearing his work pants? How much of Minimus’s existence makes him cry late into the night with how legally dubious it is? Does Delta Magnus know about Ultra Magnus being a skin suit? I feel like we don’t focus on how fucked up this whole situation is nearly enough.

Anyway, Velocity asks after Megatron’s medicine, probably because First Aid’s medical note-taking skills often get usurped by his need to write SpringerxReader fanfiction. She mentions that what they’ve been feeding Megatron over the last year have some side effects, which Megatron seems surprised by. Considering he’s felt sickly and crampy this whole time, the side effects are likely meant to be the intent of the medication.

Velocity then takes a gander at the dents Megatron put into his head when he had his little freakout, stating that “chemo-sedatives” can change one’s whole personality in extreme cases, as well as increased stress levels, as Megatron admits that the reason he crushed his head with his hands is that he heard voices screaming. However, Megatron doesn’t think stress caused such a thing.

To recap how the last year has gone for Megatron: he was forced to renounce the cause he had led for the last 4 million years, became co-captain of a fucking Carnival cruise ship, had 95% of his crew disappear from reality, found a bunch of corpses, got slapped in the face by Soundwave’s dad, had to lie to Rewind’s face to make him okay with killing himself so that everyone else might live, got shot as an infant, gaining anywhere from three-to-five fathers as a result, visited the most passive-aggressive garden in the galaxy, got stabbed in the chest and brained with a flat-screen television and then had to apologize for it, and was non-consensually hugged by a swarm of flesh-eating insects parading around in his SIC’s skin suit.

Velocity gets a call on her smart watch, Swerve on the other end demanding her presence at the medibay, seeing as she’s the only doctor on the ship now, and there are multiple people having a crisis.

Smash cut to Swerve, Cyclonus, Tailgate, Chromedome, Rewind, Rung, and Megatron standing on the bridge, their colors looking super fucked up and light bloomed out, because this is a 40-page issue with a shit-ton of detail and characters, so we’ve got three colorists, two artists, and an extra inker on for this one. They’re meeting with Rodimus, whose fingers have shrunk down to the size of shoestring potato fries, because Swerve, Tailgate, Rewind, Rung, and Megatron heard some sort of awful noise in their brains at the exact same time. Chromedome is here to support his husband, because he loves him so, so much, kissy-noise kissy-noise. Cyclonus is here mainly to clarify that he’s a badass who no one has ever heard cry, because emotional vulnerability and expressing pain are for pussies, unless you’re doing it by way of self-harming directly onto your face meat.

Only Tailgate and Rewind actually admit to what they heard, Tailgate hearing Cyclonus berate him for falling for Getaway’s tricks and Rewind hearing Dominus berate him for not doing enough to find him. I’d imagine both Rung and Swerve were hearing things relating to their professionalism, given that Rung fucking sucks at his job, and Swerve’s gonna fry the moment Ten gets a union sorted out. Megatron, is well, Megatron, so there’s a litany of awful things that he could have heard.

Rodimus has Blaster reveal that the ship received a signal at the exact same time that these people had their little brain event. Brainstorm hypothesizes that what happened was some sort of psychological assault, perhaps of Galactic Council origin, as a means of testing a new brain weapon. Magnus, who has been up on an upper level with a clipboard up to this point, notes that they could trace the signal. Mainframe informs him that they have, but the origin doesn’t seem to correspond to any known location in the navigation, and they’d have to physically go there to see what’s up. Which isn’t sketchy in the slightest.

Rodimus wants to load up on his big, beautiful Rodpod with everyone, so they can find who did this and make them stop. When Magnus questions if this is a wise course of action, Rodimus uses American grammar to trip up Magnus’s British-based spellcheck, so he gets to do whatever he wants. This is a trick he’s picked up since Drift left, as the old game of “pitting my people-pleaser hippy dippy boytoy and my no-nonsense stick-up-the-ass sentient rulebook against one another, so whatever I wanted to do from the start can seem like a pleasantly centralized option” doesn’t work very well when you replace the boytoy with a grumpy old man who tried to murder everything with a heartbeat.

Velocity wants to join the trip alongside Team Rodimus, but Mainframe has his reservations. I don’t blame him, considering she is, again, the only medical doctor currently on board this ship. He suggests she take along some personal protection, just in case.

…I mean, he’ll definitely make sure any bad guys who come her way will die horribly, if nothing else. Also, apparently the Rodpod's artificial gravity goes all the way around.

Nautica’s spent the last few weeks tricking out the Rodpod with a fancy schmancy new teleport drive, because Rodimus was annoying her to the point where if she didn’t give him what he was moaning about she might have had to kill him. Megatron is hesitant to use the drive, but after being informed that there are safety perimeters in place that’ll keep the ol’ Rodimus Podimus from teleporting inside a asteroid or whatever, he pulls the level and they end up in the dark.

No, not space dark, don’t be funny. That’s my job, and they don’t pay me for it, which should tell you how dire the situation is. This is a special sort of dark. The sort of dark that leads to panic and lethal levels of quipping. Rodimus cuts the lights on, but it does very little to offset the absolutely suffocating darkness outside. Rewind notes that there aren’t any stars, and Tailgate admits that he doesn’t know how space works. That’s alright Tailgate, neither do any of the people who draw or color this comic. You’re amongst (created by?) friends here.

The scanners reveal that there’s something 3000 miles in front of them. And behind them. And to the left, to the right, 12 o'clock, three o'clock, six o'clock, nine o'clock, rock around the clock tonight— that is to say, they’re surrounded by something the size of a planet. After disabling the safety protocols on the Rodimus Podimus, the gang find themselves on the surface of Necroworld, where the Necrobot Censere lives and operates his many plinths to the living and dead. Megatron isn’t exactly thrilled to be back here. Nightbeat on the other hand, is overdose on mystery, and he couldn’t be happier. Nobody’s sure what the fuck is going on. There’s no time to theorize, however, as half the gang just got blown sky high.

Everyone books it back to the Rodpod to escape the dozen attack craft coming after them, but there’s more trouble here— the teleport drive is dead. Which is weird, because they should have had enough juice to get to and from their little trip. When Rodimus tries to contact the Lost Light, there’s no response. They’re not responding. Megatron tells him that those are two different things, mirroring the same thing Optimus said about trying to contact the Lost Light after he and Jetfire viewed the will tapes. Everyone else is busy trying to figure out who the hell could be firing on them, all of them roughly coming to the same conclusion that Cybertronians as a whole aren’t terribly well liked, and the Lost Lighters have made a bit of a name (derogatory) for themselves, since they insulted the Galactic Council, caused the end of the 16-million year Stentarian war, and have ruined at least one bar with physical violence over home movies.

Rodimus tells Megatron to park the Rodpod at the Necrobot’s citadel, just in time for a missile to hit the ass-end of the shuttle, blowing off Magnus’s arm, shredding off roughly half of Nautica’s face, and giving Cyclonus an excuse to hold Tailgate in his arms. Everyone bolts to get inside, Nautica being carried by Skids so we can further solidify the straightest pairing in the series. Once they’re all inside, their attackers retreat, and we see where Censere’s gotten to in all this.

Let’s give him a hand, folks!

While Velocity looks over the body, Nightbeat deals with his personal Santa Claus being dead by way of trying to figure out what happened. Megatron, meanwhile, noticed that the craft that attacked them were of Decepticon design, and he tells Ravage to go check it out. Honestly, I doubt he was the only one to notice, given that all but three of the people on this trip were dealing with the Decepticons in some form or fashion all throughout the war, and could therefore identify the make of the crafts, if not the model, so I’m not sure what the deal is with this secrecy.

Brainstorm is brought over to Nightbeat to help solve this mystery, and he promptly identifies that some of Censere’s equipment is very similar to the stuff Tyrest used for the Aequitas trials, likely used to figure out what sparkflowers to plant where. Rewind, having popped on his sparkliest nipple pasties on, because he hates Censere and wants to get glitter all over his house, asks the boys to scootch on over so he can try to call the Lost Light. Nightbeat thinks that Censere tried to sabotage a signal someone else had sent in an attempt to lure Team Rodimus (and friends) to the planet, and that resulted in the brain attack that had happened earlier in the day. Unfortunately, Censere didn’t spend any time with Rodimus the last time the Lost Light visited, so he didn’t get a taste of the ridiculous way Rodimus likes to live his life, and why the psychic attack wouldn’t work.

Rewind gets the phone working, calling Rodimus over to get on the horn. Magnus stands in the background, showing off his grievous amputation. After a bit of fiddling with the settings on their end, the Lost Light makes official contact with Team Rodimus.

Getaway, last we saw him, was very much in prison, but Rodimus isn’t going to focus on that niggling little detail right now, as he asks for the Lost Light to swing by to pick up the team so they don’t all die. Getaway sort of DOES want to focus on that detail, however, as he very much didn’t appreciate being fetish fuel throughout the holiday season, and, despite his name, didn’t actually escape that setup. No, Getaway had help.

Man, guess Megatron should’ve reconsidered failing Riptide on his essay.

Speaking of Megatron, he walks up about now to see what all the hubbub’s about. Rodimus, looking like he’s about to cry, realizes that Mainframe lied to them about not being able to track the signal. Getaway gives him points for getting that right, but really, he wants to drive home the point that the entirety of the crew wanted Megatron’s little pals off the ship. And that’s what it’s really about, at the end of the day. Getaway hates that high command gave Megatron a party cruise to live out his last days on, last days that might not even happen, with the track record of this goddamned quest. He’s sick of Rodimus and pals acting like this whole arrangement isn’t an affront to every single life that’s been snuffed out because of Megatron’s actions.

Everyone other than Whirl seems pretty bummed out by these accusations. Swerve pipes up, enraged that he’s been doomed to die alongside everyone else— he doesn’t even LIKE Megatron. Getaway reveals that at some point or another, he and Atomizer (the interior designer turned bowman, you’ll recall) approached every single crew member and asked if they thought Megatron deserved to have a second chance and also, completely unrelated, but what would you do in the event of a coup? Anyone who didn’t provide a desirable answer got visited by the nudge gun fairy— that gun that can fire thought into your brain, or just erase memories if fired dry. The collection of headaches main cast have been experiencing over the last several issues? The side effect of being shot. Skids especially does not like this reveal.

Of course, Getaway isn’t just upset with Megatron’s leadership— he’s also mad as hell what’s supposed to be a trip to find their ancestors, who will guide them back onto the straight and narrow, has, in actuality, been Rodimus’s midlife crisis road trip. Getaway wasn’t even here for Rodimus and Drift’s ass-slapping contests and insulting galactic officials who want the Cybertronians dead, but he didn’t need to be. He took one look at the Rodpod and decided he needed to kill Rodimus right then and there.

Rodimus, at this point, remembers the list Atomizer had offered him back during the trial. Magnus, biting his lip at the idea of a list existing, asks what that’s all about, and Rodimus explains. Getaway really was hoping that Rodimus would take the bait, so he could’ve blackmailed Rodimus into stepping down and letting literally anyone else take over. Probably Magnus, at that point in the timeline, given that he hadn’t gotten buddy-buddy with Megatron yet at that point. Unless Getaway considers acting as someone’s lawyer under order of the space pope as being too close to an individual.

Getaway decides that this conversation has reached its natural conclusion, as he’s got questing to get done, and it should be moving at a pretty even clip now, since he’s excised all the distractions. Rodimus swears to come after him, but Getaway doubts it’ll happen, given what’s happening next.

While this debacle has been happening, Ravage has been busy searching a crash site, trying to uncover the identity of who the hell’s decided to attack them. Tarn commits a microagression at him, before firing his twin fusion cannons.

The call ends, Getaway cutting off the comm to all contact.

Ravage shows back up at this point, to give everyone the bad news.

Nightbeat, honey, the tragedy is in the opposite direction.

Now, that’s technically the finale of the main story, but there’s a little bonus comic attached to the end, acting as a sort of sideways epilogue to hint at what Getaway and his merry band of mutineers will be getting up to, since we aren’t seeing them again for a bit.

Our little backup strip begins right before the original launch of the Lost Light, where we see some guys we haven’t seen the 2012 Annual issue. Shock and Ore wander around what will one day become Swerve’s, Shock convinced that this ship is actually the ship they lost 5 million years prior, the Unitrex-1. Ore isn’t so sure, but as the readers, we saw the exact moment that Unitrex-1 disappeared in issue #38, after Rodimus forgot to wash his hands while putting the quantum engine together. Shock, wanting to prove that he’s right, fumbles around in the dark, looking for the graffiti he carved into the underside of a table. Ore gets a call on his space Blackberry while he’s doing this, and we finally get the other half of that call Prowl made in issue #1, after he failed to get Chromedome to stay on Cybertron. The Duobots have 20 minutes to get Overlord’s massive, lippy ass on the ship. Knowing that that isn’t a ton of time, the two quickly book it out of the bar, leaving the spectral form of Skids to look really bummed out.

Later, at Swerve’s grand (secret) opening, we see some more old faces.

Whoa now, Drift, you’re not supposed to be back until next issue!

Pipes thinks he’s been cursed to not have friends, since Hubcap is still at his dead-end job with the Wreckers, and Riptide was too busy being in a coma to come say goodbye. How rude!

Drift doesn’t seem to particularly want Pipes around more than necessary, pushing him to be friends with Rewind, who he describes as having kind eyes. Whether Drift is doing this to keep Pipes safe from overhearing any Overlord-related secrets, keeping his ass-slapping and sexually-tense sword training time with Rodimus safe, or just because he finds Pipes to be mildly annoying isn’t clear. Pipes, however, is looking for more than friendship— he’s looking to bone down.

Pipes’s ideal partner is wide as they are tall, with tits to match and at least one alt-mode that he can use as a yacht. Drift tells him he can introduce him to Tailgate, though something tells me Pipes isn’t really Tailgate’s type, given that he can actually say what he means and doesn’t have some fucked-up facial situation.

It’s really too bad that Pipes died, because I bet he would have loved Nautica, and he would have REALLY loved Nickel.

Later still, we see all of our doctors together— even Ambulon is there! In one piece, even! Ambulon wants to tell First Aid something, and First Aid automatically tries to make it a cosmetic thing, because of COURSE Ambulon would be insecure about his bad skin, and what he really needs is a better cleanser. What Ambulon actually wants to talk about, though, is his alt mode, and the fact that the puns involved with being part of a Combiner make him want to die. First Aid understands, but Swerve, known menace to society, might not be so compassionate, as he throws a grenade into the back of Ambulon’s head, triggering his transformation. Ambulon is mortified, and Swerve does the thing that Ambulon literally just said he hates. First Aid continues to rip flakes of paint off of Ambulon, as the specter of Velocity watches, looking pretty bummed about the fact that she never got to be part of banter like this.

Later on than that, Rewind and a wheelchair-bound Rung are in the currently-empty Swerve’s, as Rewind calls Chromedome to gather up one of the groups for those storytelling circles Rewind organized to try to fix Rung’s brain. He hangs up, then tells Rung that once his brain works again, they’re going to have a goddamned chat about Dominus Ambus, which is only mildly hampered in its threat by the fact that Rewind standing is barely the same height as Rung sitting down.

Rewind then gets to work writing out the story map for when the “Shadowplay” group gets there, as the specter of Chromedome reaches out longingly for the dead version of his husband. He laments that this Rewind died without closure, but the ghostly specter of Rung reminds him that there are rules to this, and they have to leave now. Not sure why Rung’s here to watch himself be threatened by Pipsqueak McGee. Is he actually doing his job for once, helping guide someone through their grief? I doubt it, since Chromedome isn’t a hottie bo-body like Skids, and his problems haven’t (directly, at least) caused the sort of trouble that make entire star systems hate you like Megatron.

Later, during the Overlord disaster, Perceptor sprints into Swerve’s, shouting for a medic, as the rest of the battered and beaten watch. Hoist, himself hooked up to the wall by some sort of cable, while wearing his extra-special Rodimus Star, offers to help, though he’s technically an engineer, and whatever he’s gonna do probably won’t have any consideration for the soul or ability to feel pain. Perceptor was using Tripodeca— sweet, beloved, friend to all, who was the star of the post-Overlord mass funeral Tripodeca— as a, uh, tripod for his rifle, when Overlord probably noticed that the ol’ science sniper looked sort of familiar and did a lil’ grabbing with his big nasty hands. Hoist asks if Perceptor is going to stop Overlord, and considering how things went the last time Overlord was the star of the show, I doubt Perceptor thought he was gonna get lucky twice in terms of survival, especially when Overlord is riGHT BEHIND HIM OH GOD LORDY JESUS MARY AND JOSEPH

How Perceptor survived this isn't clear, but we know he did, as he continued to show up in the story past issue #15 in a decidedly alive, non-paste form. His specter watches this scene unfold, expression unreadable.

Post-Luna 1, Swerve stands in his ruined bar dejectedly, when he realizes that quite a few people have shown up to help him clean up the mess, as long as he promises to reward their hard work with reopening once it’s done. As everyone works to get things back in order, Swerve tells them to keep an eye out for a non-trashed Legislator that he could use as a bouncer, once he fucks around with its head enough to make it do what he wants. Ten’s specter watches as his shitty boss and arguable father is gifted the body that would become him, making a note to get his union going with a bit more urgency.

Later, on the day of the “Fuck Off Megatron 2-for-1 Drink Deal”, Crosscut lead Riptide, Mirage, and Nautica on a tour of the ship. Mirage notes that Swerve’s is a bit of a dive, not suited to his refined tastes in the slightest. In a booth, Getaway and Atomizer have boxed Mainframe in on either side to have a little chat. Swerve and Bluestreak talk television, Bluestreak making a little jab at MTMTE’s second season not being quite as well-received by fans as the first. Over at the bar, Highbrow and Perceptor talk about Quark, while Brainstorm watches while having his briefcase, which he is NOT supposed to have in here.

Crosscut goes on about this bar being where all things happen and where bittersweet is the most often-felt emotion, then calls Trailcutter/blazer an alcoholic as he dances on the ceiling. The specters of just about everyone on the ship watch their fallen friend, enjoying the moment and missing him terribly, as Perceptor brings them back to the here and now of the story, which turns out to be just after the holiday special, judging by the Christmas lights.

Minimus asks if this is safe, and Perceptor says that it is, as nobody can actually interact with the past, because Brainstorm is the only one who’s ever actually perfected that tech, not that this isn’t his fault either. It turns out that when you try to fly against the stream of time as it naturally occurs, you tear a few thousand itty bitty holes on the way to perfecting the process. Perceptor’s found a way to let others view the past, at least for a little while. Minimus is fine with it, as long as everyone continues to behave, and it seems like they are, as everyone mingles in Swerve’s.

The two of them sit down, Megatron handing Minimus what I’m sure is a mocktail, and Perceptor explains that while the window into the past is closing for now, it may open back up in the future. When Rodimus asks when that might be, he then immediately decides that he doesn’t want to know, instead wanting to have a fun little surprise for later. They don’t get very many of those, fun surprises.

As everyone toasts to the dead and to future adventures, the specter of Getaway watches on, smug as hell.

That’s the end of “No Guns, No Swords, No Briefcases” but that is STILL not the end of the issue! It never ends, this thing! Because the number 50 is very big and impressive, obviously this is a double-sized spectacular, and has to cap off with a note from the man himself— James Roberts.

And then after that we get a new notes from fans, but this is already obscenely long and I think I can show you the crux of what they’re all saying right here: MTMTE (2012) is fucking good. It’s a good series. Make your goddamn family, friends, coworkers, librarians, and goldfish read it. Share it with people you’ve never met. Get a long-term personal project out of it. Get long-term friends out of it. Get a long-term romantic partner out of it. If I can do it, so can you!

#transformers #MTMTE #issue 50 #maccadam #hannzreads #text post #long post #comic script writing #overthinking about robots #incoming analysis

[nyaagolor]

How do you rank the prosecutors on order of homophobia

forgot about this in my drafts for literally months oops. Anyway. Finished now!!!!

So I made this post a while ago that has some of the prosecutors and antagonists, but if you want a ranking of EVERY prosecutor (not including DGS bc i haven't finished yet) huzzah!!

Simon Blackquill: Not actually homophobic but he gets points docked for siccing Taka (known homophobe) at Klavier (known bisexual) for stealing his pretzels from the office pantry that one time. 3/10

Blaise Debeste: I think he's gay but he made me look at that ugly ass beard for far too long and I consider that disrespectful. out of principle? 8/10

Sebastian Debeste: Just look at him. 0/10

Miles Edgeworth: Bratworth was simultaneously gay, homophobic, and a misogynist, and eventually develops into a man who is only like 1.5 of those things. he's getting better. 5/10

Byrne Faraday: I don't really think he cares much about gay people he's busy being a single father and stealing shit. For the apathy? 2/10

Klavier Gavin: He's extremely gay and does a lot of work for the gay community but making Ema Skye deal with him is explicitly lesbophobic so 4/10

Godot: He has a lovely wife but whatever he was doing with Ron DeLite was probably not osha-compliant. I don't know what that means for his sexuality or stance on gay people and neither does he. ?/10

Ga'ran: I think she has a lot of other problems she should deal with first but considered she's bigoted to defense attorneys I don't think her being homophobic would be that out of pocket. Not sure I want to find out. 7/10

Neil Marshall: Have you ever been a gay bar? This guy would do NUMBERS. Also, real cowboys support gay rights. 0/10

Gaspen Payne: Being homophobic is actually why he got fired by the prosecutor's office and Winston is really fucking embarrassed about it. 10/10

Winston Payne: You'd think he'd be homophobic but you can't work for the Japanifornia Prosecutor's Office and hate gay people or you would actually go insane. He's like that one suburban guy who uses terms from the 60s but has the spirit. However, his ally lapel pin is really ugly so 3/10

Jaques Portman: He was calling Edgeworth slurs even before realizing he was gay. 9/10

Lana Skye: Dated Mia in college but refused to explain that to Ema because she has a lot of internalized homophobia and other weird issues of self. Repressed yuri personified. 1/10

Nahyuta Sahdmadhi: He supports gay people but gets all his talking points from the internet so even though he's supportive he's also incredibly fucking annoying about it and no one wants to invite him to brunch because of it. Stop using twitter for fact-checking you jackass. 2/10

Franziska Von Karma: Despite the fact that her lesbianism is so strong it borders on misandry, I think she has a lot of internalized homophobia so she spends the first 25 years of her life being a judgmental little shit. She'll get better dw about it. I believe she can bring that number down with time. 6/10

Manfred Von Karma: I think when he finds out Edgeworth is gay he starts going to gay bars and picking up dudes just to show Edgeworth he has way more rizz than him. Considering how people in my notes have told me on numerous occasions how much they want him carnally, I think he could actually pull it off. In that respect I think he's done a lot for the gay community. It ends up cancelling out somewhat because I think he'd be kind of an ass about it. 4/10

#ace attorney #simon blackquill #blaise debeste #sebastian debeste #franziska von karma #manfred von karma #nahyuta sadhmadhi #godot #garan #lana skye #winston payne #gaspen payne #neil marshall #miles edgeworth #byrne faraday #klavier gavin #jaques portsman #ask #mod vex #headcanons

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 6

[prompt: blowjob]

male reader x hyeju

12k words

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone who actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

-

The first time you hook up with your roommate, it’s because of genetics - though not in the weird, uncontrollable way your body gets rigid and sensitive to any pretty girl who wears nothing but a towel moving between her bedroom and the bathroom, or how her eyes might flick fast from your chest up to yours - or given that the absolute shape of her is a blessing from one god or another (benevolent, clearly). That's not why Hyeju and you find yourselves only a few months later grinding on each other after the clock ticked past midnight, making out on New Year's Eve.

No, it has to do with the fact that Hyeju's nearly failing the nine AM section of molecular genetics because she's spent every lecture doodling stars and planets and planets shaped like asscheeks and planet-ass constellations while everyone else writes notes or doom scrolls twitter or whatever and she is somehow simultaneously the only student who never slept with her face on the lab desk or missed an assigned reading and the only one who absolutely needs a tutor.

It's just cosmic odds that you'd be that one: her roommate, who shouldn't be talking so loudly in the library about sex (in a sort of non-sexy, Mendelian kind of way) or be thinking the kind of things you've started thinking when Hyeju wears one of her more sleepshirt-esque long sleeves, her voice getting lower as you rattle off, "fruit flies and thale cress, definitely, it's just an error of fate or chromosome splitting..." before trailing off into a question.

"This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me," she finally tells you. You listen to her sigh into the binding of her textbook, facedown. "I'm really going to bomb this exam."

You tap her hand twice with your highlighter across the desk. "Then you're pretty damn lucky, if you think about it."

She turns to you, smiles a bit. "Okay, point. The worst thing will be having to retake this stupid fucking class."

"Why didn't you ask for help or go to office hours if you knew you were... failing?"

"Maybe because doing anything more than the bare minimum to get through a class I don't care about is my definition of, failing," she mumbles. "Why didn't anyone tell me a single lab is worth half my grade? Or that the TA is this fucking unreliable? How is this the one thing, really, beyond the basics, that can't be taught by wikipedia, a wikihow article and a youtube video?"

You scoot your seat closer to her. "You really need to relax."

"Fucking tell me about it."

You turn it over in your mind a few times, capping the top of your highlighter.

"Want me to get you off?"

And it’s not like you really mean it, when you say it, which is the strangest thing: you wouldn't actually suggest it, normally, wouldn't mention it in passing and then leave yourself open to the follow up and cross examination; yet there it is, after three, four hours of cramming notes on heterochronicity and the sloshing of gametes - you actually did propose it.

Hyeju jerks up, surprised.

"Are you serious?" She looks around, nearly snorting. "In the library?"

The face you’re giving her makes her scoff.

“You’re absolutely nuts.”

You have character flaws; the inability to admit wrongdoing chief among them. Hell, maybe it's from your mother - or maybe all your brains are just scrambled by the fact that Hyeju's sitting there with her pen against her pretty lips, hair glossier than usual as she scans your face and makes your entire body feel like a reactor core in meltdown.

Maybe you can blame what comes next on that.

"I'm always serious. I'm asking a serious question," you whisper, closing the textbook and resting your elbows on top. You look around quickly, like you're sneaking something in instead of this perfectly reasonable exchange, the perfectly platonic - except maybe not so much - way for friends to help each other.

"And I'm wondering what you're asking." Her cheeks are definitely pinker, you think, or the way it fills out her face, from the bottom up, is just that easy to imagine.

“I’m saying you haven’t gotten laid in months.” Here, you realize, these blocks of mental logic that definitely weren’t there when you blurted it out start to coalesce into something solid as you go on.

And you hadn't been wrong when you thought no one had given Hyeju a helping hand in a long, long time: you've heard through the walls or the floorboards at odd hours of the morning that she spends far too long fingering herself to a mind-numbing, tear-worthy frustration that leaves her knuckle-deep but never, ever sated or satisfied.

"No one's around, you'll feel better. You said it yourself."

Not a work of your imagination here - her ears are fucking burning.

"Wait a minute." She pushes her chair back, away from you and your gleaming offer. It clatters on its back legs, and a librarian waves her finger in warning. You wave back, sheepishly, until she stops and Hyeju stands and moves away from the table to talk, hands crossed over her front.

She turns and asks in a hushed-down-voice, "how did you know - did you hear something last night?"

"You couldn't keep it down even if you wanted to, honestly."

Hyeju turns further and throws a glare at the library doors, because obviously her noisiness and their collective noisemanship, or whatever the hell the word is, is clearly the root of the whole goddamn problem.

"Look - if not, no big deal - but I'm just saying you'll probably get over it and at least think less about sex. Or at least the wrong kind of sex."

You expect her to turn, sigh, and ask if you've lost your mind. Expect her to gather her jacket from the back of her chair, take her books and stomp out the room. Or even burst out laughing at the insanity, before slapping your arm lightly, in playful retaliation - anything other than the serious look she gives you in return, tilting her head, pressing her lips.

She turns up at the ceiling for a moment, contemplating something. And it's cute. It's so very, very cute, how her mouth pouts as she considers the possibility, right up until she says, "okay, fine."

The moderate twist of surprise taking hold in your brow must be visible.

"Oh, don't tell me that was all talk. Get me thinking about the right kind of sex or whatever."

You laugh, which has the librarian staring at both of you - until the librarian stops staring and probably sees Hyeju sliding back into her chair, the full, pent-up weight of her concentration pointed your way, knees inching apart - you, and Hyeju waiting, your knee bumping into her inner thigh, leaning closer as the textbook hits the floor.

"Don't laugh."

"Not laughing, seriously. Not laughing," you stammer. “I just think you’re just full of surprises.”

She spreads her knees further and sits taller, looking right at you.

"So then, surprise me," and then presses her cheek to the crook of your elbow.

You slide your chair right into the space next to hers, nuzzling up into the space under her ear. “Keep studying, Hyeju, you’ve got shit to do.” And then you slide your hand beneath the waist of her sweats, knead the swell of her thigh until you find the seam where her leg meets her body, press your palm down on the place just next to her center, your thumb in the middle. All this perfect pressure.

"Fuck," Hyeju says under a shudder. She's breathing heavier when your hot, open-mouthed kisses start landing at her neck, and she probably tries to read her textbook for about forty-five seconds longer. But there's the clench of her jaw right as your middle finger begins tracing circles beneath the fabric of her panties, and her gaze is blurring until she can't tell the difference between an allele or your fucking name.

"Shh-shh," you quiet her, finger tapping harder, playing with the slick wetness beneath all those layers of thick cotton and pressing two fingers there until her knees part like they’re not interested in resisting at all. Your lips press a kiss to the shell of her ear and she tenses all at once, hand shooting up to cover her mouth.

She simply leans back, closes her eyes, and lets you take care of her.

“Okay, you’re right,” she says, shaky and uneven, “that really did take some of the edge off. Did we ever review - poly- uh, pol-polymers here?"

The sweatshirt sleeve falling off your shoulder is a hindrance to any actual reading; her shifting against the chair isn't helping either, but you manage to push down the thoughts of stripping her down completely and giving her your tongue as yet another distraction.

"What did the syllabus say? I don't know if we need to read too far on 'polymers'," you say, having going through an entire afternoon without considering this once, but as you curl your fingers and take an honest crack at cramming the remaining chapters into her head, the knowledge that no one else is getting her this wet - except for whoever she's got in her mind's eye at three AM - is enough to get you feeling a little dizzy.

-

It’s probably supposed to be weird, given that you’ve never gotten any of your other friends off spontaneously in the library, or there's the fact that you can't really avoid each other afterwards, how she shows up in a silk negligee when you're pouring coffee before sunrise to prep for another day and you have the opportunity to notice - yes, she has amazing taste in underwear, yes, you might not have really appreciated her chest and figure enough before - yes, fuck it. She catches you noticing that first time, after coming downstairs with nothing but one of her cropped t-shirts and her board shorts, and she smirks when she realizes you're still thinking about it that afternoon, when her foot grazes yours while you're both washing dishes, and she dries the plate in her hand with a slow swipe.

And it is weird, actually, to describe what’s going on between you in words. 

A few words, anyway, like a one-word label to describe what it was: friends or roommates-with-benefits, or - fuck buddies - god, it's even worse. Fuck buddies? Fuck friends? Something equally terrible and stupid that still makes sense, like something out of a shitty rom-com: it doesn't capture any of the rest of the myriad ways in which things can feel less or less friendly between two people.

So, friends was never, ever going to cut it. Roommates - although technically correct - is just this side of too clinical. And let's be clear: strangers don't wake up every morning together, walk to the same class, sit close together in the middle seats, secretly flick a strangers' skirt up in an empty lecture hall and get on their knees and work your mouth onto her pussy and watch the legs of the desks shake when her feet arch into the floor.

"The notes you've got are better than mine," is how Hyeju tries to put things, the next day and every time after that, standing in the doorframe, or at the foot of your bed and looking every bit the disheveled and hopeless mess you imagine she might spread out over the sheets of her own.

-

It gets complicated, which isn't really a surprise.

"You think your roommate is going to be home tonight?" is the question that comes up multiple times - from a revolving door of pretty names and faces. Hyeju has at least one opinion, if not more, on each of them.

"Tell Jinsoul I say hi," she says once, watching you get ready for a date, and you nearly bang your knee on the edge of the bathroom vanity. 

It's one of the more harmless comments she's offered.

Another, backhanded: "if you’re just looking for a blowjob everyday between lunch and our physics lab, let Hyunjin or Heejin or whatever-her-name-is know she's easily my favorite," Hyeju says on your way out one morning, still under her covers.

Or,

Hyeju's texted a simple "uh, Chuu? really??" when you mention, once, how much fun you've been having - and what kind, as you make a round of self-conscious and rambling phone calls the next day that land you with only one prospect for the night - but your roommate's also no longer being your roommate by the end of it, bouncing against your thighs in the bathtub and moaning something about please more and fuck or fucking make me cum; the details escape you a bit.

That's what friends are for, probably.

Still, in the same, bare-bones explanation, friends also aren't for falling asleep on you - or letting you hold her - or fucking you awake in the middle of the night. Friends aren't for pushing down your jeans when the early-morning dew settles on the back patio, or jerking you off in the seat beside yours with a sweatshirt over your lap when a group project is due later and you all should probably work on that and instead get yourselves off and leave the mess of what you're doing half-finished. Friends aren't, probably, for offering to watch you rub your palm up and down your cock the night before next semester's exams when you can barely sit in a single chair and you can't think about molecular biology or neurochemical transcriptions when your whole body aches to do the transcribing. (If you can catch that drift.)

The lists of who are and are not good enough for you goes on and on - the latter longer than the former.

So, there's Choerry, who according to Hyeju is 'straight up, a total slut'. Yeojin, who gets mistaken for your little sister enough times that Hyeju refuses to - in good faith - let you keep sleeping with her. Both Heejin and Gowon are apparently too pretty for you. "Kim-lip?" she asks, in the middle of peeling garlic, "is that one name or two?" And laughs into a bottle of beer, loud, while you're telling her to quit being nosey and watch her fingers with the damn knife.

"You have a problem."

"Why, because I asked a few simple questions? I think anyone would be a little curious with the -" she pauses to wave her fingers - "I'd be remiss to not be interested in the very drama that unfolds literally across the hall."

She waggles her eyebrows.

You look up at the ceiling. God save you, you think. "Hyeju."

("Seriously," Hyeju chimes in one evening, arms around you, and a mouthful of the dinner you'd cooked.

"You need better taste in girls. Don't waste time on anyone too dumb, or who drinks the milk straight from the carton, or doesn't wash her socks with the same load of laundry. Oh, and - no one who chews loudly. No one who can't tell you're going to cum. The worst is someone who doesn't know what you like, trust me on that. And remember the last rule: don't do anything with someone who eats at a really slow pace, it's incredibly depressing."

You rest your chin on her shoulder from the spot behind her. "Duly noted, oh Master of all Knowledge."

She sighs into your arm, but in the next moment, her voice gets a lot softer, her hips fidgeting slightly against you. "I just mean you're the kind of person people would want to sleep with again," she says, before turning to say your name and kiss you again and again as your bodies curl inward.

"I wonder what that means, Hyeju," you say.

"Fuck," Hyeju groans as you slide further into her, pushing her back into the sofa - hands on her shoulders, legs bent on her either side, "don't tease me like this.")

-

The first snowfall of the year is mild, a tiny dusting, nothing that sticks on the pavement in the alley or on the sidewalks - or the lintels - or in Hyeju's hair, but by evening, when the snow picks up and everything goes quiet, Hyeju has changed into flannels and wool socks in anticipation, curled up like a cat at one edge of the window ledge as the world begins to go white. It's enough that you even pull on a thicker sweatshirt, open up a book, and join her.

She turns toward you, quiet.

You've reached a point in the semester where this, the silence, doesn't unsettle you anymore. It's the space you fill up with time in-between, where you can see the contours of her body against the orange lamplight of the space heater, or watch her kick off the top half of the duvet at night as you fight over space in her bed and wonder about the bare skin peeking out from her shorts.

"Feeling bored?" She slides her foot a little closer to yours, almost imperceptibly. "Am I keeping you entertained enough?"

Her lips pull up at the corner. You chuckle.

"Oh, no."

She scoffs and puts her hands on her knees, pushes herself closer to the window sill and bumps her elbow into your shoulder. The bare skin of her neck and shoulders and face is getting a little redder as she cranes it forward. "Okay, if not, do you need someone to entertain you, maybe."

Your mouth twists, fighting a smile.

Hyeju is so close to you, you could kiss her really, really easily and not care how she'd feel about that. It's not a habit, not as often as it used to be, but every once and a while - she starts this game. Every once in a while, Hyeju just starts smiling like that, and leans into you like she's daring you to play along, hard round of chicken until it's clear what the two of you are doing with each other; the minutes pass by, one, then two, and then - maybe she pushes first, her leg on yours, or a kiss to your jaw or a palm on your back as she walks behind you - and then you'd turn and kiss her full on the mouth and pull at her clothes like nothing's holding you back.

She cocks a smile, and says, "why don't you go and call what's her name."

"Because."

You glance out at the cold, gray light outside. If you had a better understanding of any of the workings inside you, you could reach forward and tell her everything that's stopped you.

-

You're supposed to meet the girl-of-the-month at a New Year's party. Hyeju looks disgusted within the first ten seconds of the whole story.

"Heejin dumped you once, like, two months ago? For no reason."

"It wasn't a break-up. We talked about what we did wrong and we're doing better," you say, lifting one finger.

She glares, then, tilts her lips into this unamused purse that you can't take seriously at all when she starts walking back and forth across your living room, hands moving emphatically to the sides as she speaks, like she's in the process of unveiling a brilliant argument and is using both palms to guide your eyes toward the unquestionable logic. "God, you're the worst. You're just her easy fuck and you'll still answer her late night calls, really."

She leaves the rest unsaid - that she's just not that into you.

"I don't tell you which boys or girls you can call up," you try, putting on a boot. "If you'd like, I can. Name off the list, and make sure that the right name leaves my mouth this time."

Hyeju doesn't blush when you glance up, which is the surprising thing. No - her cheeks have grown a little more sullen, and she stares down at her socks in contemplation. You're in the middle of fastening up the lace and getting to your feet, waiting, wondering if Hyeju's going to continue this conversation, when Hyeju takes one small step forward.

And her hand goes out to touch your chin, thumb at your lip, fingers holding it in place - like you'll turn if she lets it go - the sharp shock of the sensation like a short circuit, before her knee comes between yours, and your body tingles, at the root and stem. "Hey," she says, eyes meeting yours. The edge of her nail flicking gently as she drags the curve of her thumb downward.

"Hyeju, please - I need to get going."

When you start walking toward your car, she calls out from the window. Something about how you better have the time of your life, fun for the two of you - it’s only fair.

(You feel, somewhere, a certain strange loss.)

"What, are you going to stay up and wait until I come back? Or am I interrupting your session for the night."

You can barely make it out, the smallest look passing over her face. "Maybe," she says, and then: "god, it's fucking cold."

-

New year's parties have this sort of quality of being simultaneously the most thrilling, exciting prospect on earth and the absolute worst fucking event in the history of the planet - depending on the venue, how egregious the racket is for a gin and tonic, the guests - oh, and the company.

Jinsoul and Choerry are both in attendance; in separate corners and in equal states of undress and intoxication, which seems fine by every present party, who are for the most part busy ogling one or the other in the full spirit of the New Year - as you would too, if the stars are aligned and Heejin hasn't already gone upstairs with half the guestlist, her arm wound with someone else's, as per her recent habit; if you haven't been tossed aside for any of the usual, less forgettable prospects and for something bigger, better and certainly much more enjoyable.

Which, if there were any way to track these things down with math, you'd already be reaching for your pen and notebook, as Hyeju would describe this sensation in a phrase she picked up from some podcast. Inevitable means necessary, or something.

"Good party," says Heejin, throwing back another drink.

"Yep. You said that," and you finish yours in one long draw, hissing through your teeth.

Heejin is a goddamn delight, of course, in all the simplest of ways. When she looks up at you - mouth pink, hair framing her face - she is so clearly and completely aware of what she is, and exactly what the world has in store for her, what it has set aside.

"Do you want to know what happened at the other New Year’s party we went to last year?"

"I - yeah. Hit me. Tell me all about (another date you were on) Heejin, that’s exactly what I’d love, let’s hear it."

She throws her head back and laughs, before starting into an overlong recount of her latest, greatest conquest, you on the outside. This is the thing - this is how a pretty face, with just a hint of a flirt, will make you feel for a beautiful, attractive, vivacious - absolutely shameless, raving sex-crazed lunatic of sorts who, apparently, loves to run around town and make a bunch of your closest friends fall in love and heartbroke-er, with every passing notion of her beauty, her charm - just the tilt of her chin, and some poor fucker is lost, absolutely lost.

 Even she knows it's a bad habit of hers. 

But who doesn't have a weakness? You've got plenty of your own - plenty, Heejin can admit - everyone does, in a way, and so Heejin, the other sloppy drunks milling about the party, and Choerry and Jinsoul all agree - someone like her just happens to have the best kind of weakness - so, so many of them, in fact:

"Can you believe how easily a few words get Jinsoul riled up? Or how it only takes a couple drinks for Choerry to pull up the hem of her skirt, not knowing the effect that'll have?"

And as for the last, and arguably worst kind -

"Hyeju, huh? What a great start to the New Year," is her final word. Heejin reaches across and downs your drink. Her expression turns just shy of grave, a pensive look. "Not your smartest idea, the living-together situation. Who in their right mind would put themselves in such a mess?"

"Thanks for the great advice." You wave her off, irritated.

There's another laugh before Heejin leans her face onto the table.

"Though maybe she's onto something, now that I think of it. Who needs anyone for the New Year?" and it's almost convincing the way her mouth, lined up with the rim of the glass, smirks when she drinks. "Mm. All a matter of taste."

-

The snow is halfway up your calves when you realize you need to find a cab at 11:30 PM on New Year's Eve. (Which, categorically, is the worst time to need to find a cab on New Year’s Eve.)

Or just:

11:36 PM and the nearest bus stop is too far away.

11:41 and the temperature feels like its dropped by fifteen degrees, like you should start wondering what hypothermia symptoms look like and what signs to look out for in yourself, your future wife and your children. You try not to think about why, but you get your phone out and immediately call Hyeju, so you're not sure what you think you're denying.

"No party?" she asks. Her voice is distant and sleep-ridden, but Hyeju's quick to pick up, like always.

"It sucked, I'm trying to find a way home early. Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year." There's a long pause, filled in by the squeak of snow beneath your boots. "Get a kiss?"

"Uh, not yet. In the market, I guess."

Hyeju's low hum isn't reassuring, either. "Well, you're kind of missing your window. Bad time to start looking."

"Says you, and here you are - still up for someone to spend the night with. Look at you," you respond, all this snark in your voice that she clearly hears. There's a long sigh.

"Actually," and Hyeju, much to the confusion of you and possibly the whole world, doesn't respond, and for a few seconds, the line goes completely silent, leaving you hanging.

She breathes once and comes out of her sleep with a yawn.

"I actually," she begins. There's a lot less preamble this time - this tone - and when she speaks again it comes through not nearly as sleepy, "was sorta wondering. Are you on your way home?"

"If I don't freeze to death, yeah."

"Yeah - no, yeah," and that's it. That's the sum total of what makes any difference between where you were a moment ago, and where you are right now, head spinning, fingers buzzing. Hyeju waits and there's the wind on the line, snow settling on your hat and in the corners of your face.

"I - sorry. I probably woke you up. Are you expecting someone else," you say, very small. Your foot drags behind the other. The cars whizz by you faster, passing.

"Hm. You're the only one, I guess," and after that - just static and the muffled sounds of her footsteps on creaky floorboards - or the tick of her ceiling fan? You can't make heads or tails of the rest of the background noise. All those words she said.

You bite your tongue to stop whatever curse words start pouring out from the jumble and cross streets, or the pedestrian underpass; snow gets stuck in your lashes and burns, but your chest is like a molten furnace. You consider telling her right there on the line, everything you're feeling - so hot, it feels like fire, Hyeju, I'm not used to getting heated and desperate and impatient - that even if you're not here now - just imagining your face - the sound of your breathing, it feels like I'm on the cusp.

"Yeah. Sure - good - okay, Hyeju."

"I guess, see you soon?"

"In a bit."

(It takes 33 minutes, trudging through cold and wet. It's all very dramatic, you think, and there's no one there to even watch you suffer for it, or - though you try not to think about that particular line - really, no one at all.)

-

You hear the way your key grinds in the lock - it's been like this, jammed since summer, when you pushed the front door in late at night a little too hard and something came undone and made a sound like a small stone tumbling down the world's deepest well. The hinge squeaks, and there's ice on the stoop, on the doormat, on every nook and corner you can see, all the way up your neck.

And your face, too. You shake off your hat, undo the buttons on your jacket, and pull off your boots before hanging them and all the layers to dry.

You can make out the outline of her profile at the edge of the door frame, right in the kitchen - barefoot, hip pressed against the island, pajamas - the dim lights illuminating the shadow of her head, hair over her face -

- but you don't pause. The next layer. There's nothing left to say. You're too cold for excuses, too smart to use the same ones you'd been taught, like: this is a normal, acceptable circumstance; everything, anything, will be perfectly normal if the two of us act as though that's the case; pretend we're both acting within the norms of reason, within our senses and logical thinking and I won't make myself go out in the cold a second more - won't stand for more than five minutes with your eyes looking like they're waiting.

So you move instead toward the kitchen, where the heating is better and she's already pouring coffee. There's a heat radiating out of the oven, and it smells sweet in there, like cinnamon and warm butter, and you wish you weren't still shaking, blood barely thawed, but there it is - her face, watching you - eyes gleaming as you wrap your hands around a mug, steam rising up - a shiver running up your arms; her knees skirting yours when she takes one step back and there's the cabinet door shut, then open again, and then a palm on your back.

Hyeju presses a cup of the fresh coffee, now warm enough to drink, to your chest, and says, softly. "What the fuck happened out there?"

She starts reaching out to wipe the frost and slush from your face. You let her hand hold you still, eyes wide.

"Oh you know," and her palm stays, even though it's obviously - suddenly - gotten warmer, and wetter too, and the longer she stands there and lets her fingers warm the pale bones of your cheeks, her wrist, the base of your forehead and ears, the more expectant the look on her face grows. "The usual."

Her eyes go as narrow as they ever can. For just a moment. "You're gonna die a slow, pathetic death someday, just for the record."

"Don't forget how this starts," you try, and feel your neck go warm, throat and breath tight. And not even when her shoulders shift, her mouth going smug - just looking at you.

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone you actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

When Hyeju sighs and gives a long, nonchalant hum, leaning her body closer, pressing up until her waist hits the cabinet top and you're pressed together chest-to-chest, she looks at you and her hips settle, the heel of her foot reaching around your calf.

There's that tingle. Again and again. You're not even trying to not think about what it might mean.

But then, you start, silently and unconsciously, trying to answer the question: why don't you, maybe. Why don't you, actually - Hyeju kisses you, pulls on the loop of your jeans and lets your lips brush the corners of hers and pulls away, suddenly, mumbling and head-turning. And just as abruptly, your nose buries in the space between her neck and her shoulder, where it's all warm. And when she puts her palms on your hips and squeezes and twists her knuckles into the fabric there, it seems she wants your hands up her shirt and under the small of her back.

And her hands - they're fidgety tonight, fingers curled up to keep their nails and the chill away, moving lower - one on your ass, while the other comes forward and begins rubbing circles, a handful of times - enough so you're letting a deep, low breath escape into the space just above her collar, your knee working its way between hers.

"That," Hyeju breathes, lips at your ear, hand reaching down to trace the hard curve of your cock pressing in the spot right between you, and there's that small rush again, familiar now, like you've caught a rhythm and she wants to feel it in its fullness: "is how you can make it up to me. For making me stay up. Worrying about you, god knows why. Waiting."

You're still half-frozen in a way, slowly thawing. "Hyeju, I've been trudging through the consequences of my actions this entire night. What am I about to suffer through now?"

"It's no consequence, honestly."

You squint.

"Just an idea, but," she breathes again; your bodies getting closer, and looking up at you, she grins and reaches down to touch the very root of you, her fingers drumming. You make a sound, and at that she says, her voice coming out thick, low:

"Want me to get you off?"

She squeezes again for good measure, just to be clear. Just a slight curl of fingers that's enough to send a flash of heat and the transient thought: why, why, why is she always wearing those fucking shorts, even in the winter?

Your blood thrums through the pulse at the end of your cock. You shake.

"Alright," is the response you let out.

And at that, Hyeju takes your wrist and leads you upstairs.

"There's that look. Don't worry. We'll find a way," is all she says as your feet walk forward, up step-by-step and higher and further up to her room. "After all, isn't that what we've always done?"

"It's usually whatever will make me stop talking."

Hyeju puts her chin on your shoulder. Her eyes follow the lines and shapes in the patterns of wallpaper as you turn onto her side of the apartment, and even through the wall and behind the doorway, her arm still around you, she pulls at your chin until your faces turn and you both can share each other's heat.

"Who, you and your awful habit of talking out-loud in your head while you work through equations?" and she brings her lips to yours, close and warm.

"Hey. Fuck you," and your voice breaks into an odd, low laughter when she kisses you harder.

"Yeah, I know," she whispers as her hand dives past the band of your boxers, palm sliding easily until she's gripping you fully and letting her fingers rub. She holds you there, in her room, her arm looped through yours, another arm resting at your belly.

And she stops there. She stays like that: holding your gaze.

"Look, Hyeju," you say, unable to not, though this can hardly count for anything; this, what you're about to admit, is nothing new. You swallow. "The thing is - you shouldn't."

"Don't want me to touch you?" she says, finger to your lips.

"Well, that's different. Maybe. Is there - maybe it's not the best thing to ask you right now."

Hyeju considers for a brief moment and tuts under her breath. "Can you at least do me the decency of waiting until I'm done wringing you dry before you say shit like that."

And she moves then, toward the bed.

So:

No. Yes. Maybe. Who knows, you tell yourself. Maybe, but only because you'll do anything if it makes you feel less sick, like a creature standing over its own skeleton - an abandoned shell; a relic, something to be feared and disgusted, as you let her go between your thighs, kneel beside the bed.

"I mean - since when - have you felt," is just as far as you're allowed to go before Hyeju presses her nose into you and pulls you out of the thin, cold fabric - palm, thumb, all those slender fingers swiping over your head - and now there's just the smell of her room and the shock, the buzz that runs down your spine and settles somewhere, somewhere inside the small and desperate movement of your hips and the tension building just below.

And god, fuck, Hyeju’s lips.

These soft, wet, pouty fucking things that could suck you straight off if you were feeling any less stupid or inexperienced or sentimental - if she wasn't solely intent on teasing it out of you first; a slow drag of the tongue up the underside; the tip of it poking, tracing the rim, like she's figured you out, just where to lead you. She's ready to smoke you out - always - until you're not taking in a breath every ten seconds but starting to close your eyes to the overwhelming, needling pleasure, too sharp, the way she knows you like best.

"Now you're finally - mm - starting to sound hot," and that smirk comes back to the corner of her mouth, teasing the sensitive belly of your cock and tracing her tongue everywhere. "With the voice and -"

You're losing track, her thumb and fingers circling the whole length of you - just, one after the other - mouth a hair-breadth away, her breath hovering like a promise.

"- that face."

"Don't, fucking tease me-"

The sound of your cock going in is like nothing else.

Wet and filthy in all the right ways.

Just the suction in her throat has your eyes nearly roll back into your head - Hyeju's gaze calmly watching the terrible sort of helplessness that washes over you like this: her lips wrapped around, bobbing - her hair falling into the wet mess of her mouth and sticking there. Hyeju likes being a little sloppy, likes feeling that spark run up the length of her tongue when she slides. It's the wet and the heat that gives everything away.

"I don't have much of a choice -" her jaw and chin is smudged when she pulls back off of your cock, mouth glossy and glistening, "and honestly, wouldn't it be a better use of our time, or my talents if I actually do that thing?"

“Which is?”

She looks up for a bit and sighs, the flush blooming pink to the tip of her ears and into the rounds of her cheeks and all across her neck. "Since, as far as I can see, what you really like - is, oh I'm just spit-balling here," and she stops just to bite her tongue and look into your eyes, "it's letting the girls take care of you? Isn't that right?"

You want to tell her, no, not always, that it's not as though you enjoy giving control completely - that that would be completely and unarguably, the opposite of true -

That most of the time you love it when the person you're with is a little bossy, a little crazy for you. You know some guys really get off on a strong woman and maybe, maybe if a girl's pretty and dressed up, and - sure - a little wet, but that's hardly -

“You know I’m right,” she says, a flicker of mischief skittering across her features. “These walls are paper thin.”

You want to tell her, perhaps remind her, that she likes someone in charge just as much as you do - to be taken care of, told what to do - to have a hand curled up around her throat and the other at her tits while a guy fucks her the right way and takes the reigns when she needs. So who are you, when it comes to knowing her better? And who, really, are you fooling?

But before you can get any words in: Hyeju dips, lips parting where the head of your cock throbs, and then disappears; and the hot wet warmth, enveloping all around your shaft and back; the curve of her throat contracting.

You moan - a lot, and louder this time - into the whole feeling. The way her fingers work the distance from the base, twisting and twisting and twisting into the pout of her lips; or how the sound is like nothing - a whimpering, messy sound - almost a whine and definitely not a slurp as your cock sinks further and further, until it's all one big, heavy throb.

And it's like Hyeju can read your thoughts, the visual you have of her lips screwed tight around your shaft - cum leaking from the corners, and her eyes scrunched up tight, as she looks up to watch your face unravel - this perfect image of her taking you, all of you, swallowing each drop as your hips start rutting up into her and - and - and.

Or else she gets impatient, because then Hyeju gives one long pull off the tip of your cock - saliva mixed in the precum there, and that shiny string of fluid hanging, caught in the middle between your bodies - a disgusting and irresistible sight. Her jaw slack, lips swollen and full, and her mouth gone wide open, wanting.

"Fuck - that's good. Don't stop," you start to whimper, desperate, at the sight, the smell. Her hot breath coming quick over the red wanting wetness left behind - then touched by the cold air - fuck -

She slaps your cock to the corner of her lips as she speaks.

"Can you believe what's going on down here?"

"God, can you -"

"And to think most guys wanna jump straight in. That or fuck a load out between my tits."

"Hyeju, shit, come on -"

She kisses the soft tip, right where it’s most sensitive, rolls it along her lip. Then, back down the length of your shaft where she's generous with her mouth inch after inch - lapping, licking, laving - and Hyeju begins working her way down and downward, nestling in at the edge of the bed and between your thighs.

Your eyes blow up the first time she dips low enough to put your balls in her mouth. 

“Mmhm,” she hums.

It’s killing you and she knows it; it’s killing you and she can feel the pre-cum leaking from your slit - the thumb she has moored there, keeping everything right where she wants it, running circles up the length with such little intention - she could bring you to the end just like this. 

"Am I supposed to believe it?” she asks out from beneath the shadow of your cock, looking up at you with her eyes all wide and brilliant - pupils dark as sin. “That not a single one of those girls ever did you proper?"

You curse under your breath. Hyeju seems amused, at least, like she can't help but love doing that to you, which is almost worse and honestly the sexiest thing a girl can be. You groan - wanton, raw and desperate and feeling exactly what she wants you to feel when her nails drag along the dip of your hip bones.

"Did they not leave you fucked-up the right way?"

Her wrist flicks out these twists and turns, making your spine bend to her control. Like even when you're sure to be bundling her hair in your fingers and fucking the whole length of your cock down her throat, all of this is the worst kind of power-trip for her - not the other way around.

Her tongue runs through the tangle of your balls, slowly, lasciviously, as though the plan is to memorize and map every detail. 

And the worst part is, how much it's making you desperate for the warmth of her mouth - where she'll run her tongue up and down and over and around and inside - before sucking you off nice and slow.

"Or maybe," she laughs; another flick to the top and then suddenly her hand goes faster and the fist pumping the rest of you tightens. "They left you so needy you're resorting to having the bestie suck you off so that you won't be desperate the next time you date. Oh my god-" 

Hyeju breaks into this fit of laughter, and you're nearly cross-eyed at the feeling of your entire existence - not just your cock - so wholly held within her mercy, and her pity, and you're breathing so shallow now you'd think this is the real reason people have died and will die - this exact moment where you're choking and stuttering at the edges, so very close to cumming and going absolutely bonkers with how good Hyeju is with her hands, her tongue, her mouth - everything - how much she's wrecking you, and your jaw drops, wide open, her name dripping like molasses off your lower lip.

"Are you going to cum?" she asks, curiously. All as if she can't see you nodding, collapsing under pressure, and then and there: "should we make it official?"

Her nose tickles the seam of your balls. And your toes begin to curl and uncurl - all this anticipatory, coiling pleasure burning from her throat, shooting from the pit of your stomach; the tightening spiral, twinging and stretching every nerve - as her lips enclose around the end of your cock, softly.

And oh, just excruciatingly slowly.

You watch the irresistible shape of her mouth travel down until her throat feels so incredibly, beautifully, and unbelievably tight, and then, just like that - Hyeju starts fucking herself onto you; pushing forward and down the full, rigid length of you, hard and fast - each time hitting deeper inside her - all that sticky, messy, wet squelching.

"Unh-unh, yeah. Unh. Mm-!" you say, or moan, or some animal version of that, maybe, it’s incoherent.

But regardless:

It's messy and your hands scramble for purchase in the sheets of her bed when you feel that snap, the tightening of a trigger; when your balls roll up and it builds, and builds, and it comes faster - harder and -

"Hyeju," you pant, and it sounds so, so filthy. "I'm gonna cum, if you - gonna cum-"

Hyeju pulls you free from her lips, quite possibly at the most final of final moments, to rub the base up and down, just right, between her fingers. Your cock is resting right on her cheek when it all happens. When she squeezes her fingers around your balls just enough to hear you wheeze and make a sound no sane man should have the right to. And fuck, you're cumming all over her face - or just one side of it - which is already just -

Okay, fuck.

She makes a startled sound and her fist closes tightly around your shaft when you pump another fresh load of white up onto her eyebrow.

"I'm, ah-shit," your mouth moves faster than the blood in your veins - and now the shame - oh god, the humiliation, it's pulsing right behind you. "Hyeju," you apologize.

Only, Hyeju has no interest in any of it. She doesn't seem offended or disappointed in proportion to how you're ruining her pretty face: "no, just do it, cum wherever you fucking like."

Which isn't what you're expecting at all, because Hyeju makes no effort to close her lips, let alone avoid any of it; nor is she making a fuss about the sticky mess in her hair, her mouth, nor as another stream of cum throbs from your cock, all tangled up in the long dark eyelashes that sweep down across her cheek.

It’s fucking filthy: you're cumming all over her and she's just kneeling there, telling you, "good boy."

See, she pushes through it, languidly - all those filthy sounds, and those watery little tears gathering at the edge of her eye and all of that, mixing up together until you're rolling your head back with your orgasm, shuddering, feeling weak - drained dry -

Except,

Hyeju's pushing a finger to your chest, kneeling up tall from the side of the bed. She turns her body toward the center of the bed and wipes a bit of the cum on her knuckles into the sheets. Here you feel like you've done something terrible or at least regrettable, like that last round at the bar when you have a test the next morning; a dick move, all of the sort that requires apology.

"You gotta give me a minute, if you're thinking about hopping on."

"Hmm. Sounds like a lot to ask."

"Wait," you grab her arm. Hyeju grins and there's nothing stopping the shake of your knees now, that weakness between your thighs: "let me get you a drink."

"Or."

"Or?"

Her tongue peeks out, running along her upper lip. Her eyes drop again, hands dipping below, beneath the hem of her shorts and oh. She slips a hand past her bra. The whole outline of it. And you -

"Mm, I could show you what that actually means." She lowers her chest, her breasts, and a lot of skin to the mattress while keeping your cock firmly in her hands. "That look tells me you wanna stick around a bit. Stay up past New Year’s, you know?"

You're almost unable to parse her words, there is so much to look at: the jutting curve of her chest, cleavage pressing into the mattress as her body settles between your knees. A soft chuckle; a sigh: "you are seriously the best lay, no-one else can get hard the minute after they just fucking exploded all over me-"

"Fuck, watch it," you hiss, because there's oversensitivity - and then there's Hyeju's mouth on the line of your cock, polishing you clean.

And it’s not that she isn’t trying to prove a point. Or that she's not trying to tease - that's an inherent quality of her character: a naturally dominant position with a high appetite for your lust. That much, Hyeju gets from you, whether you've got your head down between her thighs or the other way, too, so that her neck is arched around and her ass pushed up high in the air, legs open, and if she had any idea you would spend the next twenty minutes or more just going down on her, licking into her creaming cunt while two fingers work over her aching clit, then really, Hyeju would only encourage it - maybe get on top, force you to gag - and so you don't know where it comes from - how and why you want nothing more than to drive your fingers inside her and work her until she's a wet, squelching mess, not when this was always Hyeju's role of being the aggressor; and yes, sure, even the aggressed.

Surely not because you came so hard, still somewhat shivering with the remnants of a rather abrupt, painful, sudden and all-consuming orgasm.

"We're not doing anything else," she says, lips pulled up into a smirk right at the crown of your cockhead. But before you can respond she pushes a hot open kiss, and goes lower. She presses the flat of her tongue to the seam, just below the head. Licks a line right up to the tip and finishes with a tender flick that sends you fisting the bedspread in your fingers and leaning back as your mind begins to disintegrate -

"I'm not going to ride you yet, or going to get my hips in your hands so you can fuck my pussy real hard until I cry and pass out. Nothing of that sort is gonna happen." She licks one long drag of her tongue. Then, the other way. "I want to make this very clear: this isn't some huge favor - and if you want it - want it so bad, you can stay there and I'm going to do everything for you. We will get there - together," and with her voice shaking as she brings the wet, glistening skin of your cock just inside her mouth, she looks up. "We'll get each other off, just like this," and it's the deep, dark, throated moan that makes your thighs and all the nerves in between stiffen and buck when she swallows you again.

Hyeju's hands tug, pull her whole body closer still as it slowly bends, curves - her ass raised, her stomach lying on the bed. Her mouth takes you another few inches, until the tip of her nose is barely visible, but when she pauses to lick the cum still left over - the cum that's starting to leak out again - to breathe through it, then squeeze her palm and bob her mouth down, take another inch, until the sides are stuffed and emptying out again, that's when she finally has something to say: "got anything left? I'm a little starved."

"I. Christ, yes-" you whine, which doesn't help your case at all: the image, the image of you lying flat - back with Hyeju's head tucked between your knees, her hand pulling out your cock.

Sloppy, slimy-wet.

She presses an innocent, not-at-all-innocent kiss right to your tip, puckering - 

"You know what I did learn in that genetics class?" she muses, tongue flicking over her lips. Hyeju's about ready for a second helping - you're losing it. "When I first saw that DNA diagram - the double helix and all those little base pairs, and everything - it made me think of your cock. Your cock and me. Specifically our DNA. Did you know-"

She presses her palm over the head and rolls it - teases and strokes her palm - her knuckles - her fist - the whole nine. "When I hold your big fucking cock, mm, and just get it right - up in here, rubbing all along my walls - so deep, it gets me in my fucking ribs, makes me choke like I never been choked before, ah-mm," and it's this thought sliding toward the front of your mind, this perfect picture: Hyeju, getting fucked hard and open and stuffed full and stuffed good and stupid; you’ve got more than a few inches on her, can make her feel small and delicate; you know how to do her right.

But here you have Hyeju stroking the shaft - holding her hand tightly up near the head, rolling and twisting and sliding down and pushing her whole body right into the side of your legs: the soft, solid length, warm flesh and curves everywhere pressing into you.

You sit back, and just watch Hyeju with her eyes cool and composed, like half of her fucking face isn't streaked with your cum, mouth wrapped and looking fucking satisfied to be a total, gorgeous mess. She makes a dramatic display of kissing the tip again, just before telling you words you probably dreamt up at some point - either sleep deprived, or, during three AM jackoff, fantasizing. "Sometimes, just from riding your cock, I can't sit up straight."

"Fuck," and you feel your whole body run rigid, because apparently that's something you’ve been aching to hear.

You're covering her mouth again. White streaking onto her lips - where she's catching it in the well beneath her tongue and letting it spill out of the corner of her mouth. Into the crook of your thumb, which catches a drip here and there and rubs it down the length - down the curve - and pushes it back between Hyeju's pert little pout.

"Doesn't count, mister, just more pre-cum," she says, all with the audacity of a wink and smile; her words are a little garbled around the head of your cock between her teeth. And when you nod and realize just how painfully your jaw hurts, your throat becomes tight and raw, a knot pulling the underside from the center. Hyeju slides her lips lower, lower down, to the hilt and stays there, just like that - one hand holding down the flat of your belly to keep your hips still, her chin hanging - bobbing-as she feels every pulse, every twitching shift. You curl one hand around the side of her face, over the sharp edge of her jaw; rub a thumb into the delicate skin of her throat.

She shifts. You start to tell her what you like: how hot the rush comes when a girl puts her tongue against the slit at the very tip, and licks at the precum in nice, quick circles, soft and fluttering. And how her fingers shouldn't hesitate either, Hyeju's not even struggling to give it to you - god - just giving and -

She jerks her head up, swallowing down her next breath like it's one of her last. "I'm serious, if you're going to fuck a hole, start with my mouth - we can move onto everything else after."

"You're ridiculous -"

She meets her lips to your head, kissing once. Again. Kissing every inch, letting her mouth wrap around and then just - staying, just - staying like that and humming, with you, enjoying the fullness, the smell of you, the taste, the shape, just the weight and size and you.

There is spit fucking everywhere.

And if it's not clear what you're supposed to be doing - her fingers weave through yours, squeezing hard at the wrist and you can imagine: pulling her forward by her hair and holding her down while she chokes on your cock. "Fuck, Hyeju," you say, and your voice comes out way shakier than you'd like, "when, how did it get like this, huh? You always - always did, shit, always want your mouth filled."

"Never figured you to be someone who'd get turned on watching their friend sucking their cock like this."

"Doesn't everybody love the sight of their cock in a pretty girl's mouth?

"You were really convinced they weren't lining up behind you? Or anyone in the queue who can't keep their eyes off of this thing. Tell me, and try not to lie, try not to bullshit this one out: how many girls have you come home and fucked and creamed their brains out - then asked for the sloppiest, most -"

"Honestly."

"- Filthiest, nasty, ball-busting, gut-wrenching blowjob ever to make them think - to make them really start wondering what the hell it was you did - like it's gotta be something that leaves them so ruined, they can't ever not compare - can't ever not compare this moment, right here. Ever. When you give them the hardest fucking of their life, compared to any other guy - can't not, because no-one, literally no-one's cock can fuck like you do-"

"Fuck-"

"Any harder. Come on, seriously, tell me it isn't true. Come on."

Her voice - her fucking words, the tone she uses and how her words roll: honey-warm and soaking with sweet, thick degradation - she talks like sex, and that's exactly what gets you harder, like it’s something else; like it’s nothing, like it’s less, so much worse - you feel this guilty-dirty heat pool at your tailbone and push down the hard press of you throbbing all the way to her nose. And Hyeju smiles as much as she's capable around the fat, round stretch, humming around the warm taste of you, before opening wide and sinking her throat on it.

There's nothing like it.

You've got two fists in her hair; she's so tight and wet around every god-damn inch. Her cheeks flush - hot to the touch; her tongue laving in slow, long drags, slicking your shaft nice and warm until you're balls-deep and pushing her further: a small shift to the hips, a push here, a harder, faster pull, and Hyeju's feet behind her go curling like an angry cat, wanting the tug.

A long, satisfied breath slips from the hollows of her throat.

There are tears threatening, thickening her lashes, and though she doesn't choke - you're just afraid. Every sound that she pulls out, her eyes blinking up to you as if it's only natural to love getting used by her friend's cock, like the very premise of it - swallowing down the very shape of you, dragged over her tongue and brushing cum into the back of her throat - is something she can’t go without.

But this is nothing compared to the noises from where her lips are pressed tight around you, where you're hearing and even feeling:

That gluck, gluck - where her chest spasms just the slightest when her nose gets nuzzled right into your belly and you remember how much she likes to hear you talk dirty, how fucking wet it gets her. The heavy, deep breaths, gasps; the strangled moans when your hips just buck - the heat and the thrill, and this is better than every other time because there's just something in this moment -

"I'm not gonna come again, not like this. Not in your mouth. You can’t-"

But Hyeju refuses to hear a word; just pumps your shaft faster, feeling it's familiar hardness grow and throb and ache and retch, all her effort paying off: you're slick with precum and spit, hard and straining, the whole shaft begging for release - all because of her. And Hyeju won't stop, she pushes her cheek onto your thigh and then taps a hand there to pull your hips. The motion drives your cock further still inside her. Until it’s bathed in her spit, your cum, all this mess.

Until it's reaching, choking her, and the muffled sounds she's making are filthy and wet and so incredulously hot.

But god. Hyeju has something of a temper and a habit, too: with those big beautiful eyes and the perfect plump of her pouting lips, her tits swelling up around, when your grip slips on her shoulder, and her mouth goes tighter - how the pleasure begins to make you unbearably cruel and you push her away from you, only for a second -

She doesn't wait or seem to care; Hyeju follows the cock with her whole head and whimpers so hotly in her throat when it plops right back on her tongue. "That's more - more like - fuck, oh, there we go," her nose and fingers prodding.

You groan through a high, strangled whimper, a helpless shiver that turns into an uncontrollable roll of the hips - you can't believe it: she's already so thoroughly debauched and defaced; just fucking painted with it. Your cum dripping off her chin and rolling down her neck.

"Fuck - gonna make me - ah, Jesus -"

When Hyeju seems to have reached her fill, the feeling, you're cumming - pumping the length of your shaft. And the moment she feels you twitch and throb and that first hot spill lands in the bend of her mouth, it's as if she understands and holds herself tight - her legs going stock-still while your eyes blow up behind her, your cock spewing another and then another thick, milky load into her mouth, over her tongue: all along the topography of her throat - sticky cum landing in every ridge and valley -

Hyeju catches as much as she can. What little she can. You cum and pump and gush so much that when you're finally finished - done - every last drop spent and given - your cock throbs soft between her fingers; her chin is a complete and utter mess and her chest heaves with the sound of her catching her own breath. Hyeju groans softly and just swishes the load around in her mouth for a bit as if wanting to remember its feel and weight before lifting her eyes to look into yours. You can just barely see the color.

"Jesus, Hyeju-"

The entire bit of it, slick and shining-wet. With a small moan, a sound from the back of her throat: one swallow and the cum is gone, disappeared, vanished. She smiles like she didn't just ruin your entire goddamn life and, with her body limp and exhausted beside you - her gentle hand rubbing a flat stroke over your thigh before yours slips up to meet her chin.

"You," you curse and roll your eyes, catching the mess at the edge of her jaw, the very little left in the corners of her lips. You feed the cum over her bottom lip - her chin, her throat - watching your friend: Hyeju's throat, bobbing. "Really didn't have to," you start, but you realize just how useless a point it is to make.

She's smiling and biting and showing you what's left between the tips of her canines. "Do you always do this to the people who suck you off?"

"That's an awful habit. A pretty girl's lips aren't meant to get that messy," you reply.

"Oh." She frowns. "Well, I do a lot of things I shouldn't."

"God, seriously," and you think there's no greater hell, no sweeter pain than whatever's lingering in these little aftershocks - this fizzling and dying sort of pain, where the body is buzzed with all you're aching for. It's impossible to stop this train of thoughts, is the fucking feeling of her-

But just then, Hyeju rises to her knees, a new spark in her eyes, as she grabs ahold of your wrist and tugs you off the sheets, a few inches closer.

"And you," she purrs as she drags the palm of your hand across her neck and collarbone, collecting what remains and making the perfect image, "well - you are going to help clean me up, like you said before." She sits tall; the arch of her spine is pronounced - her back, so, very, slightly tapering, to where your hand slips right off the last of it: the wide flare of her hips. "Now isn't that the gentleman's thing to do?" she asks.

"Of course." You sigh, resigned and in desperate need of water. "Of course," you add and smirk a little and slip your hand lower, toward where her skin is getting hot, and her body, "let's get you clean."

"Mm." She's already grinning. "You know what wasn't in those textbooks?"

"Oh, I can only guess." You bite your cheek and start to lower yourself back. "Give it a try."

Hyeju drags you by the wrist toward the hall, the bathroom, ostensibly the shower -

"There's no way in hell you don't want to put a baby in me, like, right fucking now."

"Is that what we're doing?"

Hyeju makes a face like you're stupid - she might've grabbed a towel on the way out. She wipes her chin a little while walking - the corner of her mouth where, well - where it looks like a little dribble has somehow remained. "No. But you’re going to fuck me like it is."

-

(There's got so much on her mind. 

The door of the shower rattling in its frame as she struggles standing up against it. Getting fucked so fast and full, the feeling of both your hands cupped beneath the weight of her breasts. It's not the fact of where you are and your situation, per say - more about the immediate, the imperative nature. About fucking you. She was already feeling herself like, leaking the moment the door shut, so all that waiting, all that patience, really - and it's what drove her insane when you were, well: like that, after she put her mouth around your cock, made a right and proper mess of herself, and sucked you off.

Though there's less on her mind, clearly, when she cums all over your cock.

She's crying with her tits up onto the glass, your palm holding her ribs. Your cum-slick cock working itself hard again as it slips, back and forth, as you're fucking her open, spread apart. It's your finger in her asshole. That's what's on her mind then. How the press of your knuckle lights her entire fucking spine on fire - how the other hand finds her clit in all this, too, when you're no longer supporting the both of you but rather Hyeju is folding on her bent knee and trusting, on shaking and shivering, raw nerves, that you're not going to collapse.

"Fucking. God, please-"

There's the harsh slap of flesh - skin on wet skin, your palms against the sides of her ass and the curve of the breast. But otherwise - it's you, sighing - soft and gentle, like you can't get over the feel of her. "Hyeju, oh-fucking, god, fucking," is what you're saying, and it doesn't end up really mattering which one of you came last because she can feel you twitching, squelching in and out with how badly you're wanting to explode inside, but also you can feel her cunt absolutely begging, this fucking fluttering and clamping down on every thrust and the moment you manage to grind this angle she loses her ability to speak properly because you're not just, like - fucking her-

Just, absolutely, completely pounding her pussy, stretching her insides, dragging and sliding along the walls; each rough rub and thrust makes her knees quiver until her body is trembling and falling. But mostly her voice, the sharp gasp that shakes into her, how her nails are scraping the walls of the shower stall and she's saying - telling, crying and asking and wondering and pleading - just utterly astounded:

"Amazing," she huffs, breathes coming out cloudy and true onto the pane of glass, "you - it’s, fucking amazing.")

-

“And I am… Ironman.”

Your eyes flicker awake, hazy, as Tony Stark snaps his fingers, killing himself alongside Thanos’ army in the process.

The TV's long been running on background noise, though not as ambient. Its characters now bickering between the rubble and ruins and being picked up for the end credits. In the dark of the screen, you see Hyeju had nodded off and slumped over the side of your body. A new year means new beginning means resolutions and diets and gym routines -

Maybe no sooner than the sun can come up, apparently.

You lean over to grab your phone from the table: 4:14 A.M.

There's a lot of things you want to say, even more you want to hear, but your mind has begun to settle a bit - a lazy and dreamy thing that fills you with this sort of, tired kind of - not sad, or empty - no, of course not. That's hardly fitting; not after tonight. You want to wrap this in an idealistic sort of sentiment - maybe hold Hyeju close and let the hour carry you and the comfort be enough to forgive whatever there is to miss: like the fact, it's still really dark, so dark even outside. The moon reflecting off the sheet of snow on the street. And not even a distant dog barking, or car driving by or someone playing loud music in the early hours of the new year.

As the film drifts off into another set of commercials, you slip into an easy sleep that feels effortless. Your head drops, landing on the cushion by the arm of the couch, where Hyeju's hand begins to slip mindlessly across your belly, tickling your waist and causing you to slightly squirm - things are cooling down, but still a little agitated.

"Don't tell me you're waking me up, cause I just -"

She kisses the pulse at your throat and answers, mumbling half-words into the spot below your ear. "A kiss for a new year."

And maybe the world doesn't owe you anything at all.

Maybe it just gave you more than enough.

#hyeju smut #loona smut #loona hyeju smut #loossemble smut #loossemble hyeju smut #olivia hye smut #loona olivia hye smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember

[luckthebard]

So this is a very niche rant that is probably only something I've noticed or been annoyed by, but:

The longer Critical Role has gone on and the more changes they've made/content they've created, there's been an increase in weird people who are desperate and determined to prove that changes or content they don't like are "an objective failure" - but often lie or deliberately misunderstand viewership statistics to do so.

There are a few big "facts" I see repeated by people to argue that CR has "gone in the wrong direction" that are just plain wrong, and I think what annoys me most is seeing so many people engage with those "facts" without bothering to double-check them or push back against the certainty with which people state them. An example of one I keep seeing now is "twitch streaming numbers are down" and it's like, yeah, sure, in comparison to when they didn't simultaneously air on YouTube. If you add up the YT and Twitch numbers these days it's about the same as mid-late C2, but people love to act like YT streaming doesn't exist to make a point that "people don't like C3". And I tbh don't care if people like or dislike C3 but why this determination to falsely quantify and validate a personal preference?

The earliest I saw this was an intense agreement on reddit that Exandria Unlimited was a "failure" for CR, "unlike Undeadwood," because viewership numbers were lower. And it was tbh baffling to not see pushback against that narrative, because it's just objectively untrue. Original EXU's VOD streaming numbers are higher than every single episode of Undeadwood, and it premiered literally years later. It also has a lower "drop-off" in viewership (comparison of how many views episode 1 vs the finale has) than Undeadwood, despite frequent claims to the contrary. And don't mistake me here, I really enjoyed Undeadwood, but it actually was a viewership misstep for CR to the degree that they didn't try anything like it again for a while after and significantly changed how they approached marketing and airing miniseries. (A big one being: don't air a long miniseries simultaneously with the main series, it's too much content for most people to invest in during a week.)

(Sidebar, but another great miniseries CR did that didn't get a lot of viewership love is the Elder Scrolls Online trilogy, so I'm going to plug it here. It has some weirdly low viewership numbers on episodes 2 and 3 and I promise you they're both well worth it.)

The other one I keep seeing is "4 Sided Dive has lower numbers than Talks" which is also just not true. Most 4 Sided Dive VODs have nearly twice as many views as Talks VODs (and I'm using the ones that aired directly on the CR channel as a metric here, not the ones re-uploaded from G&S which lost numbers in the change-over). And I'll tbh chalk that up to the fact 4SD airs much less frequently - people are more likely to think it's necessary to watch whereas with Talks if you weren't interested in the guests you might skip a week. I'm not making any claims about the quality of either show, but the use of false viewership statistics to support "one of these sucks" is so rampant and so weird.

All this to say that yesterday I saw a weird viewer-hungry YouTube clickbait video titled "Midst a FAILURE for Critical Role!!" with a truly absurd confidence on what the VOD streaming numbers for the Midst YouTube videos mean for the series mere days after the premier and snapped.

tl;dr, people just make shit up and say whatever on the internet all the time and we hopefully all understand and expect that BUT (and here's the more annoying thing) 9 times out of 10 people just engage with that WITHOUT LOOKING INTO IT THEMSELVES

#rant #critical role #long post #cr discourse #I guess? #as always I am begging people to fact check and question stuff that's just stated as fact by randos online

[gh0st-t0wn3]

Lmk ss edits + headcanons, Part 4 (Jin & Yin, Ao Lie, Tripitaka, Bai He)

- He/Him, He/They

- Pansexual, Bisexual

- They both have chronic separation anxiety, its why they're never apart; Yin tends to go non-verbal and more withdrawn without Jin, and Jin gets really agressive and paranoid without Yin. 

-  Yin can't sleep if he has nerves, Jin can do nothing BUT sleep if he has nerves

- Jin always forgets something at home, Yin reminded him a hundred times before they left

- Yin doodles on the corner of their blueprint papers whenever they're making something new, Jin cuts them out later and glues them into a sketchbook so they don't get lost

- Jin's hips are constantly covered in bruises because he's always bumping into shit (has NO spacial awareness whatsoever)

- Yin listens to rock music, Jin doesn't have a specific genre

- Somehow are simultaneously the most innocent and dirty minded people, you'll never know what you're gonna get at any given moment

- Yin always finds a way to drown in inch deep water (really bad at swimming)

- ^^^Jin laughs at him

- After they found out Mei and MK didn't like eachother as anything more than friends, they tried to trap him in the calabash again but used Redson to try and seduce him instead, MK immediately knew it was them

- Jin was talking really fast cause he was panicking once and called the Demon accountant "Semon accountant" and has still not recovered

- Yin laughed his ass off when it happened and constantly reminds him of it

- Jin likes his pillow warm (he's insane)

- They both occasionally become self aware and wind up having a weird crisis trying to figure out whether their horns are a part of their skull or something else

- Both are cat people, they're terrified of dogs, being trapped in a room with one is one of their worst nightmares

- Neither of them has clean hair, it is a fucking rock you will not be able to comb that shit out

- Jin rants about new ideas, Yin writes/draws them down

- Yin will bite you if you get near him while he's eating, bro's feral

- Jin stubs his toe atleast three times a day and screams in agony every. Single. Time. Eventually Yin just stopped running to check on him, it's happened so many times that he can distinguish what Jin's scream sounds like specifically when he stubs his toe

- Yin spent several months slowly moving everything in their house slightly to the right everyday, Jin cried cause he thought he was going insane

- Jin smells like cinnamon, Yin smells like caramel (I'm delusional, they both reek)

- Jin's love language is words of affirmation, Yin's love language is quality time

- Yin is terrified of cockroaches, Jin keeps some as pets

- Jin tried to dox Mei during one of her streams, Mei showed up at their house instead, it was terrifying

- The Demon accountant has to use a pressure hose to wash them

- They were banned from the arcade but they kept showing up begging to be unbanned, the staff eventually started feeling bad and let them back in

- Yin always throws out his drawings if they don't turn out how he wanted them to, Jin fishes them out of the trash when Yin isn't looking and keeps them in a sketchbook under his bed

- He/Him

- ??? Bisexual, probably

- Favourite animal is a leaf slug, it just feels right

- Mei's number one supporter

- Ate a strawberry once and found a worm inside, never ate strawberries again

- Constantly bothered Zhu Bajie during their Journey to the west, he thought it was funny seeing him get upset

- "I swear to buddha, if you ask me 'why' one more time" " Why?"

- Wukong pulled a bug out of his hair once and he freaked out and made Tripitaka go through his hair for him

- Heaviest sleeper of the group, when he falls asleep he is OUT,

- Has horrible bed head and his hair takes forever to comb out

- Really bad at math

- Wakes Tripitaka up in the middle of the night to ask the dumbest questions

- Refuses to wear shoes, he's in his horse form for most of their Journey anyway so he doesn't see the point in having any at all

- Would absolutely down a container of melatonin gummies if he had the opportunity

- Had to comfort Wukong while he puked after chugging a gallon of salt water once

- Mei gets her ':3' face from him

- Trips over his hair as much as his sleeves, no matter how much of his hair he ties up somehow it always ends up in his face or under his foot and he's down

- Follow up on the last headcanon, he's tried to cut his hair before to stop this from happening, it did not work, his hair grew back really fast

- He's like a cat, if you tell him not to push something over, he'll push it over

- Favourite colour is actually rose gold, but green is a very close second

- DBK let him hold Redson after the Samadhi removal ritual was over and Ao Lie immediately dropped him (DBK caught him before he hit the ground, but Ao Lie was banned from holding him again)

- Can eat an entire buffet and not gain a single pound

- Smells like Mint

- Love language is physical touch

- Chews on his sleeves when he's bored

- Gets along surprisingly well with Nezha despite Nezha's and Ao Bing's history

- Really good at singing

- Since he's a water Demon, he gets overheated really easily in the sun so whenever they come across any kind of water (river, pond, puddle, etc) he'll just flop sideways and lay there for like 20 minutes to cool down

- Actually thought Mei was his sister for a minute until he realized it wasn't her when they first met

- He/Him

- AroAce

- Sometimes gets visons and dreams of his life as the Golden Cicada

- Tripitaka, Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujin can see what their descendants/reincarnations are up to

- He cried on Freenoodles wedding day... it was not of joy, Zhu Bajie also threw up several times

- Once joked about having to shave all of Wukongs fur off now that he's a Monk and Wukong cried

- Absolutely HATES when people enter a room before knocking

- Would probably be scared of popping candy if he ever heard them (bubblegum, pop rocks, etc)

- Hates when people fold the corner of a page as a bookmark

- Constantly corrects people's spelling; "it's 'you're' not 'your' "

- Can't stand the sound of people chewing with their mouths open

- Has naturally long lashes

- Weak ass ankles

- Tried to teach Wukong how to read and gave up in a few hours because he refused to pay attention

- Cries whenever someone brings up his and Zhu Bajie's pregnancy, it's what keeps him up at 3am (if you haven't read JTTW, I'm sorry that this is how you found out)

- Surprisingly has a really good singing voice

- Always writes in cursive and no one can read it

- Understands cicadas

- In JTTW (chapter 39, i think) Tripitaka encountered a demon who impersonated him so well that even with his golden vision Wukong couldn't tell them apart and mistakingly attacked the real one, Tripitaka still gets nightmares about Wukong almost killing him

- Favourite colour is yellow

- Smells like oranges

- Love language is words of affirmation

- Has little freckles

- Extremely texture picky

- Vegetarian

- Has almost lost his hat (???) multiple times due to being kidnapped so often, it's a miracle he hasn't lost it yet

- Loves watching the sunset

- VERY light sleeper

- Smiled at Redson once, who immediately burst into tears (He could see that Tripitaka was the golden cicada and got scared), Tripitaka freaked out and also started crying while trying to calm him down

- She/Her

- Ally

- Has stretch marks as a result of her bones and skin being stretched out while she was possessed by the Lady Bone Demon

- White streaks in her hair from the possession

- Even after being freed from the Lady Bone Demon, her skin was never quite right, always too pale or too cold, with little snowflake markings here and there just barely visible

- Always cold, she has to wear multiple layers of clothing to help deal with it, doesn't matter how hot it is outside, she's always wearing something warm

- Has eyebags because she gets recurring nightmares about the Lady Bone Demon and hardly gets any sleep anymore

- Has very faint freckles

- Definitely believes/believed in those "spells to turn you into a mermaid/fairy/vampire" YouTube videos

- Made potions as a kid (it's windex, food dye, and glitter mixed together)

- Probably collects rocks

- Mei and Macaque taught her how to scam other kids in roblox

- Used to believe that if you ate a seed it'd grow in your stomach and had a meltdown when she accidentally swallowed watermelon seeds

- "Guys, stop swearing!" Whenever someone says "Frick", "Heck", "Dang"

- Cut her own hair once when she was really little, it was a disaster

- Eats whatever anyone gives her

- LOVES kumara

- Always eats lucky charms for breakfast but she'll pick out all the actual cereal so she just has milk and marshmallows

- Her dad is Pigsy's boar rival from across the street

- Loves street food, especially tanghulu and cheese tea

- Chews on her sleeves

- Smells like vanilla

- Love language is quality time

- OBSESSED with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and watches it on repeat (she once compared MK to Donnie because they both fight with staffs)

- Has a charm bracelet with personalized charms she made for everyone she likes/loves

- Loves orbeez and has a heart shaped orbeez lamp that she uses as a night light (I had one as a kid, it was awesome and I miss it very much)

- Dyes the white streaks in her hair pink, but they fade pretty quick so they have to be re-dyed frequently

- Has a tooth gap

- Her favourite flowers are chrysanthemums

#fanart #lego monkie kid #lego monkey kid fanart #lmk spicynoodles #lego monkie kid tripitaka #tripitaka #tang sanzang #lmk pigsy #zhu bajie #lego monkie kid bai he #bai he #bai he lmk #jin and yin #the gold and silver demons #redesign #lmk headcanon #headcanon #ao lie #ao lie lmk #ao lie monkie kid

[rageprufrock]

Hi Pru, this is a career question... I am in my mid-twenties, female, not quite the most junior employee at my organization but treated often as one. The workplace is highly male-dominated, competitive, the older supervisors sometimes hilariously old-boys'-club, and the younger men (my age) mean well (feminist, etc.) but have their own territories to defend. For complicated reasons I cannot leave. I knew some of this coming in but am ashamed to say that

You’ll love this: my response is so late because I too girlbossed too close to the sun and have accidentally reached mid-senior leadership status at my organization and the past month has been the most hilarious cluster of fucks. Insert clown emoji herey.

ANYWAY.

I have a few thoughts on this one, and hopefully one, or some, of these are helpful as you're navigating your early career.

To address your most immediate question: is it meant to be this hard? I think "is it meant" or "is it always" are two different questions, and each with branching answers completely dependent on your field and profession. Some are notorious for early career hazing--banking, medicine, etc--and then the answers are that the suffering is a feature, not a bug, for these industries (this can be debated ad nauseum but you know what I mean), and then for many, many other professions, the answer is that while it's not meant to be this difficult, it still is, and that it's all we can do to survive it.

But setting aside the macro issues, of whether the role itself is objectively hard or if the environment you're in is objectively sub-optimal, the more nebulous and inescapable thing is that each one of us, individually, in our early career are undergoing one of many puberties and all its attendant implied indignities. I find it weird that culturally we don't talk about this much--at least not in Western or the Eastern cultures with which I'm most conversational--but think about it: in the first five to ten years of your working life, you're often simultaneously navigating a staggering number of life-changing systemic shifts that have a tectonic impact on your lived experience. I

For a lot of us, beginning your life as a working adult means you're likely moving out of your parents' home, which adds a huge amount to your mental load and financial burden.

For a lot of us, these early professional jobs are also the first time we're operating in a performance-reward system for which there is no clear rubric or understandable progression monitoring--there aren't any grades, and I can't tell you the number of people who I've spoken to in my career who have been shocked when they're told they're being put on performance improvement plans even though they thought they were doing fine.

It's like being sent to college with no class list, textbooks hidden in eight different departments run by varyingly helpful people, while trapped in an inescapable group project run by someone who seems just as frazzled as you are, and told "okay well you should need to bring me your completed degree by EOD Thursday." This doesn't even take into account your genetic assignment to play this entire game on hard mode by failing to be a cisgendered man in the dominant cultural demographic.

People who've had multiple jobs and career changes can attest, every new job, no matter how seasoned you are, is fucking exhausting. It's almost a joke among my friends at this point how often I change jobs, and every single time I do, there's at least a six month run where at the end of every day, I'm fucking spent. I couldn't calculate 1+3 if my life depended on it, because I've spent my working day so furiously trying to read the professional tea leaves and figuring out what the actual fuck I'm supposed to be doing--which, funnily enough, is never as clear as you would think! Even if you are at increasingly senior levels of responsibility! It's really fun and good! Your boss's boss's leadership team meetings? Surprisingly similar to when I used go get coffee during my break working at an ice cream shop to complain about our customers and equipment and boss! It's amazing how no matter how much changes, everything stays the same!

So I think in the end, my answer to your question is this:

Is it meant to be this hard? Depending on what you do, maybe.

But should it be this hard? Of course not. Life is short and lush and wonderful, but already so filled with challenges, and it's a shame that being rooted in capitalism, we're all forced to participate in a system that's so unbending and unforgiving.

But does that mean it's going to be forever? Or that you can't survive and thrive and have fun in the process? Absolutely not.

However awful you feel, however bad the job is, it doesn't have to be forever. This role you're in now may be just what you need to find your next, better, better paid opportunity. And maybe that one won't be the ideal for more than a year, maybe two, but that's why you keep an eye out and a keen focus on what you want, and what's most important, and like a shark, you continue to move and grow as you get clearer on where you want to move and how you want to grow. The person I was at 24 could not have imagined the person I am at 38, and I'm guessing that the woman I am today can't fathom who I'll be in another 10 years. Whoever she is, I hope she's still choosing to do hard things and--to the very best of her ability--having a good time in the process.

It's okay to cry about work. It's okay to cry at work, even though I strongly recommend that you do this huddled in a restroom in privacy because otherwise it gets messy--fairly or otherwise. It's okay and normal to do these things. It's okay and normal to feel like a fucking disaster, to feel--or to in actuality!--be categorically failing. It is okay and normal to hate and love your job, and to love money and hate the work. There is no right way to do this, and the only wrong way is to give up on yourself, or to create a situation where you cannot have the freedom of your choices or your future.

It's also going to get easier with time. Even if you don't feel it, every day you're getting more experienced, more confident, more discerning. Those microscopic, atomic changes in you accrue, and I'm sure if you're honest with yourself you can already identify how even today, you are a stronger, more capable person in your professional context than you may have been just a year or two ago. Even if you don't mean to do it, just the experience, the bruises, the callouses from throwing yourself at the brick wall over time will rewrite the person you are--if you do this with your eyes open and intentionally, all the better.

Five years from now, ten years from now, you might still find yourself crying about work. But hopefully you'll share the good fortune I have been privileged enough to have, and find yourself the type of good friends who say, "don't care during work hours, it's beneath you to give them the satisfaction--cry later," and actually have the wherewithal to follow that extremely correct guidance.

So anyway, it shouldn't be this hard, but it is. The good thing is, you're better and stronger than it is, and you can look forward to the day you get to look over the shoulder at all the worlds you've conquered as you get ready to do it all over again.

💖

#advice #career advice

[angelinthefire]

ilovehowyouletmefall Destiel fics

So this is everything I've posted on AO3 since Nov. 5, 2020 (organized by length). I like to think there are a couple of unique contributions to the collective body of fanworks in here. If you haven't read my fic before, check it out, and I hope you find something you like!

my body aches to breathe your breath 839 words, rated E, PWP with feelings

Summary: “I used to think I wanted to possess you,” Cas said, his voice rough and confessional. “Fill your body with my true form, feel my grace in your fingertips, my light pressing against your skin."

Comment: "This is one of my favourite fics that I’ve read in like, a long while. It’s so lush, and hot, and hits the emotional beats sooo well"

Heal me with 3,023 words, rated T, 15x19 fix-it, hurt/comfort

Summary: When he gets the phone call, Dean thinks he’s finally cracked. But it doesn’t matter, because his legs are still carrying him to the crow’s nest, taking the stairs two at a time. And when Dean flings the bunker door open, Cas is there.

Comment: "ok dang I do not even know how you got ALL of this in just 3000 words, like my mind is blown at the sheer craft level. The sensory details that give it a lot of texture, the immediate facts of what's happening then translated into everyone's emotions and actions just being so tender and real. It's just all here."

Godot ain't got nothin' on me and my baby 10,489 words, rated M, MCD-ish, 15x20 fix-it, angst and depression

Summary: Castiel is the new Death. Dean can only see him when he's dying.

Comment: "This is so lovely and feels so right. As someone who's dealt with depression my whole life, the feeling of being stuck and just slightly outside of everything and everyone rang so true."

Status quo ante bellum 11,201 words, rated T, 15x19 fix-it, fluff and angst

Summary: Cas is back from the Empty, human, and convinced that his relationship with Dean is unsalvagable. Can Dean get his shit together in time to prove otherwise?

Comment: "Augh, this was so endearing. Cas stubbornly seeing only what he wants to see, and how restricted he feels by his human form ... Dean's food love language. Dean being frankly adorable. ... Great read <3"

Wandering Through Purgatory 11,216 words, mixed ratings G-E, anthology, purgatory fic, pic-fic

Summary: A collection of ficlets about Dean and Cas in Purgatory from back during the hiatus before season 8 when everyone on tumblr was writing pic fic and tag fic and spinning a fantastic version of Purgatory in our minds.

Comment: "I wasn't even remotely aware of when this was actually happening, BUT I'm glad I get to see these bits and pieces now and then, like a glimpse into the past. Much love❤️"

Full of Grace 11,399 words, rated E, 15x20 fix-it, fluff and angst and smut, trueform!Cas and tentacle sex

Summary: Dean wants to take things further with Cas. He just can’t get out of his own head. OR: Dean feels empty inside. Cas, um… fixes that.

Comment: "Holy fuck. First of all the writing is Unreal. Absolutely beautiful. Second of all this was simultaneously the hottest, most romantic, most genuine thing I've ever read. What the fuck I'm still completely gobsmacked"

Life Skills 26,052 words, rated E, s9 human!Cas, weird boy-bestfriends, fluff and smut and gender

Summary: Cas is human and comes to live in the bunker, and Dean spends a lot of time with him, sharing all of his favourite things. Dean can't help it if sharing things with Cas just makes everything better. Besides, it's Dean's job as Cas' friend to introduce him to the joys of human life. To teach him how to be human. And if one of the experiences they end up sharing is sex with women, well... that's just part of Dean's job as Cas' friend too, right? The desire is triangulated, the rituals are intricate.

Comment: "1: it was excruciatingly funny to see how far dean could take the 3-way (golden rule) without catching on to his own feelings 2: every single woman in this fic had me like "Good For Her" so well done there 3: 👀🔥🔥🔥🤌"

Ignite your bones 67,177 words, rated E, MCD, 15x19 fix-it, angst and grief

Summary: Chuck takes the Winchesters up on their offer in 15x19 and tells Dean to kill Sam. Dean, Cas, and Jack deal with the fallout for their relationships. It gets worse before it gets better.

Comment: "This fic flayed me alive and then put me back together again. Dean's pain throughout is so palpable, Cas's love so unshakeable, the tension between what they want and what they think they know and Cas trying to keep Jack safe and Dean trying to push everyone away and Cas's need to fix everything and Dean's determination to be broken. GOD. Oh and the way they're So Unwell about each other feels so true to their characters. I can't handle it. It's too good. I need to go outside and scream."

All your secret wishes series

I said show me something 7,195 words, rated E, 15x19 fix-it, PWP with feelings, toxic deancas

Summary: Dean didn't think that angels could feel love. But now that he knows he's wrong, he can use that to his advantage.

Comment: "This is so intriguing! You write a perfectly complex and at times disturbing alien Cas - and Dean! Dean, my man, what are you even doing. So very messed up and very Dean, I love it."

Forget your perfect offering 81,785 words, rated E, casgirl thesis

Summary: Cas was resurrected. Dean told Cas that he loves him, that he can have everything he wanted, but Cas has to stay with him. Cas promised that he would. The thing is, he didn’t realize how literal Dean was being. Now, Cas works on rebuilding Heaven with the angels, while he builds a new life with Dean. Neither of those things are as easy as Cas would have liked.

Comment: "the first fic in this series has been one of my all time favs so i was extremely excited for this sequel, and it did NOT disappoint!! u write every character so well and i love how much u focused on heaven and the angels bc i feel like the show never rly gave us closure and wasted a lot of opportunities w heaven/angel plot lines, which u absolutely nailed."

#destiel #deancas #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #castiel #fanfiction #by mi #long post

[theygotlost]

ok. here is my attempt to make a coherent post about the watch bbc.

my main reaction, over and over again watching the first episode, is: CHOICES WERE MADE. truly inscrutable choices for which I cannot possibly understand the rationale or thought process. If I was adapting discworld for the screen, it would ever in a million years occur to me to make these choices. some of these choices include, in no particular order:

cut-me-own-throat dibbler is a white woman with dreadlocs who uses a wheelchair. I can NOT make this up.

vetinari is also a woman. .....I have nothing else to say about this.

instead of a dragon sanctuary, sybil runs some kind of femdom petplay sex dungeon for bedraggled old men. including vimes. and this is how they meet. she traps him in her sex dungeon.

she's also skinny and average height. I repeat: sybil ramkin is SHORTER THAN VIMES.

the actor playing vimes does have a very vimey look about him I won't lie, I even like his little fauxhawk hair situation, but his performance is completely baffling. he's always making an over-the-top jim carrey face but doesn't sell it nearly as well as jim carrey so it's just awkward and not funny.

vimes' accent is also completely unplaceable. I swear it's different in every single scene. sometimes american, sometimes irish, sometimes an american doing a bad impression of an irish accent or vice versa. watching @fealtyfaggot (irish)'s face in real time as he tried to calculate this man's accent was entertaining to say the least.

honestly, every actor sounds like the director instructed them to do an irish accent except they're all bad at irish accents so they all sound weird in their own unique way.

goodboy bindle featherstone is a normal-sized, horrible cgi lizard and sybil uses him like a handheld flamethrower.

the series is attempting (and FAILING) to adapt the events of guards! guards! and night watch simultaneously. carcer is killmongerfied into a black man (not raceblind casting as ciarán pointed out to me, they specifically put out a casting call for a black actor) who is justifiably angry at the police system. and he's carcer. so he's still the main antagonist and a crazed serial killer. he's the bad guy.

john keel was also black and vimes is white, so while it doesn't actually happen in the first episode it seems apparent that CARCER will end up being the one to impersonate keel?!

AND carcer was best friends with vimes and they had some kind of ~history~ together where there was some kind of dramatic betrayal and vimes attempted suicide(?). what

I guess dwarves are.... not short? cheery is normal human height.

carrot's tragic backstory where he was thrown down a mineshaft as a baby (I laughed out loud when he said this) and his adoptive dwarf parents sent him to join the watch cause they hate him and are trying to get rid of him.

just...... why the cyberpunk angle? discworld isn't the most traditional, historically accurate medieval fantasy out there and it's not supposed to be, but.... WHY CYBERPUNK?

I almost forgot: colon and nobby are completely absent.

my only question after watching this is WHY. WHY WHY WHY WHY. why is this a discworld adaptation? why did they decide to adapt discworld in this way? there is absolutely no respect or appreciation for the source material or understanding of what makes it good. whoever came up with this does not seem to like discworld very much at all. every single second of these 42 minutes was a slap in the face.

If this was just its own show, not related to discworld in any way, it would still be pretty bad. But I could still see it having a cult following you know? there would for sure be a niche tumblr fandom for it. the best thing I can say about this show is that it would have been good if literally everthing about it was different.

#the watch watch

[earlgreytea68]

From that Kerrang interview, about their first meeting at the end of the hiatus: “It was tense, actually, as we hadn’t talked to each other in a long time and there were all these old grievances.”

This poor man cannot decide which version of his history he wants to believe lol. Was it tense because you hadn’t talked or was it just a lil break and everyone was cool and friendly the whole time, Patrick?

hahahaha I saw that statement and immediately thought of all of our hiatus discussions.

I think I can save Patrick a little bit there, though. I think it is pretty settled from the various accounts of that time period that Pete and Patrick made up first and then decided to get the rest of the band back together once they'd hashed out their relationship some. I think it's also been stated enough times that it seems true that the hardest person to persuade was Joe and that Patrick spent hours on the phone with him convincing him to come back. So I actually think Patrick's statement in the Kerrang interview of "it was tense, we hadn't talked to each other in a long time" might have been about his relationship with Joe (and possibly Andy, although that has always come across as more easy-going). Maybe, in fact, a lot of what seems like contradictions in what Patrick says about the hiatus are him talking about two different relationships and not being clear in that.

I think a lot about that post I saw about how soulmate-y Pete and Patrick are, like, regardless of any romantic attachment, their story is just too intertwined for them to be anything but fated creative partners. Their relationship has seen its share of fraught exchanges but mostly born from the intensity of that star-crossed soulmate bond, tbh. That feeling of inevitable magnetism between them, like they're not finished without each other and make up a whole person, also means that Patrick and Pete are probably both very serious when they can say simultaneously that they talked almost never during the hiatus but never stopped being Pete&Patrick. Like, that silly, ridiculous thread that binds them could never have been snapped by something so simple as a little while not talking. And they seem to elementally have known that, too, that no matter how far they might try to wander away from each other, they would always eventually snap back and be waiting for each other. Which is not to say that they don't clearly put time and effort and care into their relationship with each other, but it is to say that they exist on this different plane that, honestly, probably no other person in the universe but the two of them can truly comprehend, and so it makes sense that when they talk about how it works, it's all over the place to the rest of us but perfectly unremarkable to them. Patrick barely knew Pete's kid but also never stopped being Pete's best friend: of course. How could it be otherwise???? They're Pete&Patrick.

The other part of this is that I really respect and praise and am impressed by Joe and Patrick and the work that they both clearly put into *their* relationship. Because Joe isn't part of that star-crossed fated soulmate thing. He was on the outside of that looking in, which was obviously a painful place to be. And Patrick couldn't rely on that soulmate bond to make up for the hurt feelings of the hiatus. Pete&Patrick called each other up and boom, started writing songs together again, of course they did, it's written in the stars for them. Patrick and Joe really had to work together to make it back and it's so lovely that they did it because now look at them making each other laugh every single night on stage.

But, anyway, this is to say that when I think about how Patrick tells the story of the hiatus and is kind of all over the place, it's starting to make more and more sense to me when I think of how part of the story of the hiatus is Patrick and his weird fanficcy creative soulmate life partner twin destiny person, like, that part of the story probably will never make sense to those of us who don't have one of those lol, they just interact on a level and in a way that the rest of us will never get. And they're even very straightforward and upfront about that, and still it's always amazing to me when I realize where it crops up.

#peterick #fall out boy #fob

[relaxxattack]

how come twitter hates knifetrick? i havent read it nor have i ever been involved in any mcyt or adjacent stuff btw

oh man. ok let me explain the story. it was around exactly a year ago the main bit of this shit happened actually

in 2020 minecraft roleplaying (mcrp) becomes super mainstream with the rise of dream smp. in these series, stories are scripted and then acted out live with some improv stuff

in the fandoms there is a LOT of drama over whether it's okay to ship the roleplay characters. there's lots of stances on this. in the beginning, most people say it's not okay to ever ship rp characters, because the youtubers usually just use their own persona as a base for an oc, so it's basically the same thing as shipping the youtubers together. shipping irl people is weird and gross, so nobody wants to do that.

in 2021 a couple of ships start getting confirmed as canon in the rp. characters date or get together or canonically have romantic scenes. this makes the fandom hurt itself in its confusion, because it doesnt understand if it's allowed to ship those characters together.

two guys have their characters literally get married and have a child. the fandom LOVED these characters, they were well written and cute and had a great dynamic. the fandom wanted to ship them and support their marriage so bad. BUT. they were played by real people. those real people (tubbo and ranboolive) were also minors at the time, who nobody wants to risk being weird about obviously.

the mainstream fandom decides that to solve this problem, they will pretend that the marriage is platonic, and ostracize and witch hunt anyone who claims it's not. they draw tons and tons of ship fanart of the two characters, all helpfully tagged as "platonic", sometimes tagging every single use of the word "husband" as platonic.

EVENTUALLY, people start realizing, hey wait, this is roleplay. it's fictional. the streamers are not actually traumatized war veterans who invented nukes, have amnesia, raised a child, are half hybrid alien etc etc etc.

in fact... it's actually really weird to try and make their roleplay relationship the same as their real life one. in the roleplay, they are married and have a kid and act lovey-dovey... why would you claim that's their real relationship? why would you conflate the two? can't we just understand that it's fictional?

most of the tumblr fandom, eventually, realizes that fictional characters and real human actors are not actually the same person. (it helps that the actors themselves state the same thing.)

the twitter fandom however... does not eventually realize this. they stay in their "platonic husband" hell, simultaneously being really weird about shipping and outwardly hating all shippers.

fastforward a bit, there's another mc roleplay series. it's a spinoff series of that first one we were talking about, and it's an athology series-- a whole bunch of oneshots with new characters each time. keep in mind, these characters are NOT EVEN RELATED TO THE STREAMER'S PERSONAS... they make up new ones each time!!

anyway they do one of the oneshots in a cool futuristic city and i was like "man it would be cool to write about this." one of the characters (ran) acts very weird and suspicious for the 5 lines he has total, which leads to a lot of silly theories about what he might be up to in this future city. i think, "man it would be fun to write about him." a different character (jackie) remarks on that character as well; jackie is also one of the only characters to live to the end of the oneshot.

ages after this oneshot was actually aired i thought to myself, what the hell, i'll write a story about ran and jackie. they have literally no existing personality and the futuristic city is not even remotely expanded on- i get to do all that myself!

so i write a comedy mystery action romance novel about an alien assassin (ran) assigned to kill the general of the city's army (jackie) while they try to find some kidnapped kids. keep in mind, i had basically nothing to work with for these characters-- they were side characters for a single episode from a spin-off series, they had around ten lines total. i got to make up basically everything about who they were and where they came from and what they would do myself. the story is also chock full of OCs, and all of the mechanics for the city itself were original and invented by me-- it was a huge labor of love and invention and original work.

the romance wasn't intended to be a whole thing, but honestly it felt very natural (and all the story's fans definitely wanted it), so it eventually happened.

surprising no one, the same twitter fans who believe that fictional characters are somehow LITERALLY the same as their actors started trying to tell me i was shipping real life people. (what? gross?). they told me i was being a bad fan by going against the wishes of irl people who didn't want to be shipped. they accused me of so much, of just trying to "hide" that i really shipped irl people, tons of things. but my story was not about irl people. the characters literally have different fucking names, appearances, personalities, dynamics... EVERYTHING.

twitter users eventually started a "cancellation" of me. i don't even use twitter. but anyway they dug up a bunch of weird innocuous comments or fanarts i had done before, and then pointed to knifetrick, and said i was secretly a gross person, that i was a guy who shipped gaming youtubers, etc. there was a thread about it, idk.

eventually the harassment in my inbox caused me to take a break from tumblr for several weeks. i actually wasn't sure if i would come back. HUNDREDS of people were talking about how terrible i was; people on twitter literally have me and my works in their goddamn dnis. it was such a surreal experience and it caused me so much anxiety.

eventually, several of my friends convinced me to finish the story, because really there was nothing all that wrong with it in the first place. i came back to tumblr.

i added the banner that is currently in my pinned to discourage gross shippers, or people who think *i* am a gross shipper, from coming near me anymore.

as far as i'm concerned, ran and jackie are my OCs. they were from a oneshot-- a oneshot that has not been MENTIONED by its creators for years now-- who i gave an entire story to. i don't want to associate with that fandom anymore, so i don't want the characters i worked so hard on associated either.

they still talk about me on twitter sometimes, kind of as an urban legend of drama. "holy shit you guys remember the knifetrick stuff? that was so gross, how did we let any of that happen. people kept defending it too 🤢". it doesn't bother me as much anymore, because i'm surrounded by people with the critical thinking skills to tell the difference between tom hanks and woody, but it's still sometimes surreal and hurtful.

don't take this as just me complaining though- making knifetrick was incredibly fun, and i still adore all the fans and memes and fanart to this day. you all were incredible and pretty much make those awful episodes worth it <3

in case you're wondering, the steamiest thing those characters did, that people were so upset about?

they shared a chaste peck of the lips for .2 seconds before one of them tried to kill the other.

#knifetrick #THE WHOLE THING SUMMED UP! ONCE AND FOR ALL! #sorry for going on for so goddamn long anon but you needed more context than just the story itself ToT #(slight ventish(?) ahead) #those were seriously the most anxiety inducing weeks of my whole life though. every morning when i woke up i wanted to puke. #i cant imagine what its like for big internet creators who get cancelled. i literally dont know how they survive it. #bkt

[rhiannons-bird]

okay so I‘M FINALLY READING SWORD CATCHER AND I HAVE THOUGHTS

I‘m only about halfway through but I need to rant

- it‘s incredible how well cassie manages to lend a unique voice to each of her characters every single time. she just doesn’t miss does she?

- lin caster is the awesomest girl. i just love her because she reminds me of other cc girls in the way that she is kind of a very typical heroine on the surface but you can actually feel her emotions and she’s very believable & flawed & human and you just can’t help rooting for her + i love her friendship with mariam

- everyone is bisexual & it’s completely normalised i love it here

- lin & conor??? apparently they are the flagship which I know because I took a peek at the tag after they had two scenes together because the ENERGY OMG

- ahh yes, conor 😌 another pretty man with issues who’s in a lot of trouble and likes to cover it up with sarcasm, pompous behaviour, fancy clothes & vanity- you just can’t help but love it

- but also he‘s the biggest prick and i want him to have some sense beat into him by everyone around him

- like he qualifies for a huge growth arc but it could also go downhill and turn into sth ugly

- anyone had a weird sense of déjà vu about him and lin after that one little excerpt about adessa and suleman? like, she’s an ashkar with probably immense magical potential let’s be real i see where this is going and he‘s a prince (future king) with marivent blood 🤔🤔🤔

- conor‘s frat boy posse make my blood boil- especially with the way they talked about antonetta in that one scene 🤢🤮

- falconet is the nicest one by far but he‘s sus as hell i know he’s up to sth 🤨 but i rly wanna like him 😭

- the ragpicker king is just a cool dude who dresses emo and has people murdered on the regular i guess i love him. he’s hot. - kaz energy but also very different at the same time. can‘t wait to see more of him. and there’s def more to him.

- also no, andreyen, i don‘t understand either what people mean about ji-an having an off putting manner i‘m pretty convinced she‘s never done anything wrong in her entire life 💗except for the murder what murder

- kel can only be described as a calmly unhinged cinnamon roll. he reminds me a little of james (especially with his „mask“) but if you orphaned him & janked up the loyalty & sluttiness by a hundred

- like fr he is so confused just running around threatening and/or kissing people wtf 😭✋🏼 he just has chemistry with everyone he interacts with lol

- kel & conor remind me of matthew & james but if there was a big power imbalance and a everything is a little more fucked up 🙃

- generally the way power & power dynamics are portrayed and handled is very interesting i like it

- antonetta has my entire heart ❤️

- I need more of her but as an individual not just through kel‘s pov, so far i’m not very big on whatever is being hinted at with her and kel

- I adore merren just like everyone else, he‘s kind of giving a weird mix of christopher/matthew/wylan and I‘m here for it. plus: autism coded character yeass

- also nice to see some jewish rep. (i did not know cassie was jewish before lol) the ashkar are really interesting (& as far as their treatment by the rest of the world goes at times infuriating😤) to read about and add a lot of depth to the world building.

- i love how we see the complexities of their culture portrayed through lin who on the one hand is deeply ingrained in it and holds/has received a lot of love & care for/from her own people while also having been wronged & ostracised by them and how both can be true simultaneously

- as someone who‘s very familiar with multiple romance languages the languages in this book are incredibly entertaining to me

- SO MANY SECRETS & political intrigue hehehe rubbing my little hands together can’t wait for all this to escalate (because it most certainly will) 😈

bottom line

I’m really glad i finally started reading this.

it took me a while to get into it & I’m still holding out on a final judgement since it seems very slow but i’m a patient reader and i appreciate a good setup.

also I want a creepy black crocodile pool in my house now.

#sword catcher #review #kind of #halfway through review #cassandra clare #lin caster #conor aurelian #kel saren #antonetta alleyne #merren asper #the ragpicker king

[cleavetheclover]

Clver, think about it...shadowire (platonic or romantic) domestic fluff,,, or just fluff,,, angsty fluff? ps this is just my sleep deprived ramblings

Like...

- Post Hourglass Omen being found by Cypher (probably willingly i don't see Cypher going to go see Omen if he'd rather not see Cypher) and just...a talk. Omen venting. Cypher comforting Omen and listening quietly. And then cuddles. A kiss when Cypher leaves Omen be again and an orange, "for luck," Cypher would say (knowing it had no such meaning)

- Pre Hourglass, Omen coming to see Cypher at night, cuddles and physical intimacy mixed with quietness, because if nothing else Over feels just a little more grounded when Cypher is holding him.

- Cypher noticing little quirks Omen has. Sometimes Cypher tells Omen about what he's noticed. Omen enjoys it because it at least means he's still human if nothing else. (I mean, what kind of monster has a preferred sitting position or a certain kind of wool they enjoy knitting the most?)

- Above, but roles exchanged. Omen notices things about Cypher that makes him Cypher and some that makes Amir. It's weird, Cypher thinks, I'd hate being known but it feels natural with Omen. (Inspired mostly by hermit card, which normally means like being known by no one but yourself)

ehh welp thas all i got in the brain goodnight I'm by no means asking you to draw any of these i just saw your ask thingy and went "bet lemme think"

Noooooo stop I stg every single member of the cyphmen community has the exact same headcannons please 😭😭😭

(Not that I’m complaining, that just means more food for all of us)

ANYWAY all of these are wonderful ideas and I definitely want to write all of them!!! Unfortunately I am rather swamped right now bc senior design is kicking my ass and job hunting is harder than ranking up in val, and my current hyperfixation is a game called Noita…

But I’ll definitely get back to writing as soon as my life stops being as volatile as a bucket of acetone.

Also I wrote a short thing for the hourglass thing I hope you like it! I’ll respond to the other prompts later

Post hourglass Omen:

I think he would shut himself in his room for a while and just sit there, completely overwhelmed and not sure where to go or what to do next.

Since it’s cannon that Omen can sense others emotions, I think pre-HG Omen would have already sensed a timid friendship and significant fear from Viper, but it wasn’t until post-HG that he knows why. He’s having this world-shattering realization that one of the few people he has trusted and befriended in this lifetime not only doesn’t return that friendship, but actively fears him, and for good reason.

Imagine learning that your best friend fears you, for an incident you would have never learned of—had you not hired a shady information broker to find it out for you.

Confirming that she sees you as a monster— something you never wanted to be.

Yeah, I’d be pretty lost and upset too.

So Omen is gonna be hiding in his room trying to figure out a path forward and simultaneously avoid thinking about said path forward.

Cypher, being the nosiest man alive, a friend of Omen’s, and also the guy who helped orchestrate the mission in the first place, is not gonna sit there and let Omen feel so alone.

He shows up and Omen really wants to just slam the door and tell him to fuck off, but he really doesn’t have the energy (and also can’t really afford to burn more bridges at the moment). So begrudgingly he lets him in.

Cypher softly says his name, “Omen,” but the shadow doesn’t dare look him in the eye. Instead he stares at the sentinel’s belt. Browth leather. Battle-worn. Probably replaced several times over, like Omen’s own combat gear.

The sentinel approaches, and Omen can feel a protective sentiment befitting his role as a Sentinel. It’s soothing, he’s felt it before, but he really wishes he weren’t the subject of such a keen emotion right now.

Cypher’s gloved hands come up to rest on the sides of his own shoulders. The intent is to be reassuring, but Omen doesn’t find it to be such. What is he supposed to do with his own hands, anyhow? Touch Cypher’s shoulders? His belt, or chest?? His waist???

Well, the chest option is gone, because the next thing he knows Cypher’s chest is pressed against his own. And his arms are wrapped around his back.

Omen always knew humans were warm, but for some reason, he had always imagined Cypher to be cold. Maybe it was the utter lack of skin showing. The minimal expressions in his mask. The way he never so much as brushed hands with anyone else in the Protocol, as if he were a robot like KAY/O. Hell, the literal killer-bot had a warmer attitude than Cypher most of the time. Maybe it was…

Whatever.

Cypher is warm. Like any other human. Embracing him without any reservations at all.

No fear. No pity. No grief.

It makes him feel like, for one moment, that maybe he isn’t a monster after all.

Omen responds in the only way he can think of: he ducks his head down and buries his face in Cypher’s collar, and lifts his hands up to Cypher’s back and pulls him as close as he can.

He smells like bar soap and leather. And something else more organic, musky almost like sweat, but that can only be described as subtle and pleasant.

Alas, their embrace cannot last forever. Poor Cypher is a man, not a scented candle or a stuffed animal that can be basked in or embraced forever. Omen releases him, already missing the warmth and the scents and the textures and the intimacy, but he would rather save face and keep Cypher comfortable than anything else.

Cypher seems… satisfied.

Omen isn’t sure how he feels.

There’s a long pause.

“I am not my past,” he blurts, immediately wishing he didn’t. He almost says something else to brush it away, but he knows that doing so will only dig a deeper hole for himself. He says nothing more and hopes Cypher will have the courtesy to do the same.

But the Sentinel, as always, has other plans.

“Neither am I.”

Omen’s gaze snaps up at that.

The Sentinel then reaches into a bag of items that he had discarded upon entering, and produces a ball of yarn and a small tin box.

“I have spent the last decade of my life paying for crimes too heinous to be named.” He comes to stand in front of Omen once again. “They called me everything from a villain to a monster to, well. ‘Villain’ and ‘monster’ in more callous terms.”

Cypher chuckled humorlessly. Omen dared not ask who ‘they’ was referring to, but got the feeling that he didn’t need to.

“I am not absolved from my past. I cannot fix the innumerable lives I have ruined or the things I have destroyed.”

Then he lifted the little tin up to his face. “But then again, what kind of monster has a favorite type of tea?”

In his other hand, outstretched to Omen, was the ball of yarn. “Or a favorite type of wool?”

Omen just stared at it. Cashmere imported from India, said the label.

“To the best of my ability— which admittedly isn’t much— I left it all behind.” Cypher somberly bushes the tips of gloved fingers across his masked cheek. “My name. My face. My skin, even.”

Omen tilted his head at that last one. It sounded painful. But then again, what about Cypher’s existence wasn’t?

“Like me, you might carry the legacy of a monster. But that does not mean you are one.”

The cashmere is soft in Omen’s hands. He runs his thumb along each strand, marveling in the gift. On its own, it didn’t feel deserved. But when he looks back sees the tin of tea being cradled in Cypher’s own hands, it does.

Former monsters sitting under a warm roof with their silly little domestic joys: the thought of it almost makes Omen laugh.

Cypher must have seen the way the tension eased from Omen’s shoulders, because now he is chuckling too.

Bastard.

“Omen,” the informant takes the revenant’s hand and says his name with that dratted melody of affection in his voice, “Would you like to knit while I brew us some tea?”

———————————————

Since you suggested an orange:

It’s a very cute idea— I think oranges are for luck and wealth in Chinese culture, not sure about other ones tho.

Unfortunately I’ve come to kind of associate them with mourning. My grandma passed away last summer, and my grandpa and I leave flowers and oranges on her gravestone when we visit. So I didn’t feel like writing that into this little story lol

And yeah I also incorporated your “what kind of monster has a favorite kind of wool?” Thing in here wahoo

#valorant #cypher valorant #cyphmen #omen valorant #shadowire #cypher/omen #cypher #omen #fanfiction #asks #send me cyphmen prompts of any kind #I love them

[welostutopia]

so here’s the thing. rebooting the original 1980s teen wolf film as a series worked because they weren’t trying to be the the 1980s film. the film was a silly comedy, the series was darker (both thematically and aesthetically and seriously the lighting needed serious work but i digress) and the only real connections was a teen called scott turning into a werewolf and his friend stiles, everything else about the show established it as an thing in its own right, unconnected to the film.

this teen wolf the movie as a follow up to the series didn’t work and that’s for a number of reasons.

1. it relies way to heavily on nostalgia, the amount of throw backs and hints to the series would have worked, been endearing even, if we weren’t in the age of streaming when people could go back and rewatch the series whenever the want, and if there had been a longer gap between the series and the film. season 6 ended in 2017, my first year of university, it is now 2023, i graduated in 2020. september 2017-january 2023 isn’t even 6 years, the show is still fresh for so many people, and so many people are still discovering the series that it makes the nostalgia grabs feel cheap

2. the nogitsune is an iconic teen wolf villain, season 3 is many peoples favourite season for a reason, and while a large part of that is because of dylan and his impeccable acting as void stiles, another huge part of that is the nogitsune itself, this film does not do the nogitsune justice in the slightest. it’s another nostalgia grab, the writers basically went ‘remember your favourite season and favourite villain? well we bought the villain back’ and it sucks. flip side of that, the heavy reliability on nostalgia requires fans to remember every single detail of the series to piece things together, i spent part of the film confused until i remembered something from the series and then everything made sense.

3. none of the characters seemed to mature, every single character was making mistakes they made as teenagers, and should have learnt from, while they are now in their 30s, it felt like character development wasn’t even something the writers considered and i was so annoyed

4. fan favourites were missing. sure we’ve known for a while that dylan, arden, daniel and cody weren’t returning, but stiles is the reason that so many people got into teen wolf, isaac was a fan favourite and his exit from the show, and everyone seemingly forgetting about him, was something that the fandom never excepted. kira had the fandom divided on opinions, but that was down to the writers, kira deserved a better ending, and arden deserved better than how she was treated (100% support her decision not to come back). theo again had people divided, but by the end a lot of people had warmed to him, i think having him back would have helped at least a little bit, his snark and overall attitude contrasted perfectly with the righteousness of so many of the characters

5. the writing sucked, i’m sorry but so many of the lines felt like they were written by middle ages writers for a gen z teen show and y’all know exactly what i mean by that. teen show dialogue is so uncomfortable for people in their teens and just out of their teens to hear because it’s so unrepresentative and this had the same feel. the plot also felt simultaneously rushed and also drawn out, which is a talent in its own right, but not a good one.

6. eli. listen, eli as a character is fine but his existence creates a multitude of plot holes. he’s been alive the same amount of time that allison has been dead, who is his mother? who was derek romantically involved with in season 2/3, they discuss eli as a young child, toddler age really, but it was never seen in the show, when exactly did derek find out about his son, when did this happen?

7. stydia. 6 seasons it took for them to develop stydia. 6b was weird enough with lydia being more excited over seeing jackson than her own boyfriend and then the film we find out they broke up over a potential premonition. i get that dylan not coming back probably changed things, but to have a 6 season long slow burn to end like that, it’s disappointing and honestly lazy writing.

8. bringing characters back from the dead, at this point it’s boring. teen wolf had already done that in the series, if you’re a fan of supernatural you saw it happen basically every season. bringing dead characters back to life no longer has the affect it once had on audiences

9. derek’s death. listen, the idea of derek dying isn’t a bad plot device, and at this point not enough main or key characters have died when you think about how high stakes the plot was, however the way it was done annoyed me. having him die the same way his family did, and having is son watch it happen, it was unnecessary trauma porn.

10. off the back of point 9, the allusion to sterek with the jeep analogy. i’m a sterek shipper, always been a fan of that pairing (also a stydia shipper so frankly either way the plot went i would have been happy but no one ends happily here so fuck your jeff) it’s become a thing with long running shows that have a popular queer ship among fans to allude to a one sided love in the finale/film special and then kill the character with the one sided love. this sucks on multiple levels. it’s the worst kind of fan service, if you’re going to give me queer characters then give them to me openly, i don’t want allusions or subtext, it also plays off as writers and producers realising they weren’t inclusive enough and trying to remedy it in the worst possible way.

11. allison. listen, we love allison, she’s great. she didn’t need to be resurrected but we move on. my biggest issue is, she died when she was 17, she was then resurrected 15 years later, surely that suggests that she is still 17 while everyone around her has aged by 15 years, to then bring back scallison made me slightly uncomfortable (might just be me though)

12. harris. not only do they bring someone back from the dead. but it’s a basically forgettable character, he was only around for a few episodes and it’s frustrating that there’s zero explanation as to how he’s alive, nor is there any reason for his knowledge of the nogitsune, let alone his desire to release him despite some flimsy revenge plot

13. hikari. i get that with bringing back the nogitsune they felt that they needed a kitsune and with arden (rightfully) not coming back they needed a new kitsune, but they ruined her character basically immediately. there wasn’t time in a film to introduce or get to know her, she was a plot device necessary only for the fact they were bringing the nogitsune back, and keeping scott alive.

14. continuity? season 6 ended with the pack basically running for their lives as the existence of supernatural creatures became widely known and helping other supernatural creatures find safety. the film didn’t address that, the film made out that the existence of supernatural creatures was once again not widely known. what happened in that time? the continuity issues led to so many plot holes it’ll take multiple rewatches for me to find them all and i am not putting myself through that again.

basically this film was unnecessary, it was a badly executed cash grab banking on nostalgia to bring people back. i’m a firm believer that when it’s time you should let things go, teen wolf should have ended with 6a, 6b was the worst instalment in the series and then less than 6 years later they followed with an even worse film. it honestly felt like fanfiction and not in a good way, but what’s worse is it worked, teen wolf fans (including myself) tuned in, sure mine was from morbid curiosity but i am now still a viewer, sure reviews are bad and fans are annoyed, but they’re getting views and in the entertainment industry that’s all that matters.

anyway, can streaming services and hollywood stop remaking/rebooting/making follow ups and sequels stop. so few are done well, and frankly it’s unnecessary.

#teen wolf #teen wolf the movie #teen wolf the movie spoilers #god this film sucked #when it comes to entertainment nostalgia is the enemy

[learningtosmelltheroses]

that specific section of zendaya stans want to protect z from how the media and general public tend to reduce a woman's persona to her romantic life (which is totally valid because that sucks and i actually agree with them on that part) but at the same time will overhype every single relationship she has with other men (in this case timothee but i'm sure it will be the same thing with all the men she will collaborate with in the future) just to prove that she can exists and be her own person without tom. and to be clear, she absolutely does, and i think it's actually healthy for people in a relationship to also have close bonds with people from the opposite sex and totally believe in friendship between men and women. but that's not what irks me

what irks me is that they will go through great lengths to actually despise her romantic life - and literally nothing points to the relationship being toxic or anything - and when they're being called out, they always use the same argument : they're against making everything z related about tom. but let's just call a spade a spade : it's not actually about that but it's about them hating tom so much they can even stand that she's with him.

and they have all the rights in the world to dislike him, that's not even an issue, BUT what's soooo hypocritical of them is using the feminism/girlboss card while simultaneously freaking tf out whenever z just look into timothée's direction or used to complain when tom visited the dune set because i quote "he was disrupting timdaya hangouts and ruining the vibe". you cannot be taken seriously after that. especially when you're desperately trying to link her up with a dude who did questionable things lately. so they can start becoming honest that would make everything more simple

straight up insulting tom for xyz reasons, i'm like okay it happens to anyone in the public eye (even tho it's weird because nothing he does deserves that treatment but anyway). on the other hand, whenever they're hiding behind those fake ass takes, that's when i roll my eyes

[sorry for the rant but i had to let it go after seeing the 1929338th tweets complaining about tomdaya stans and then look at the profile and see genocide joker front and center, ooohh this is just too much 😭]

My inbox is always open to rants anon! I agree with you.

And we never make her whole career and life about her relationship. We praise and are excited for their individual projects but sue us for being happy that she's in a happy loving relationship. That she found true love after being in such crappy relationships before. Cause she's a good person and sweet and she deserves someone who loves her and treats her like a queen. And the same goes for Tom.

I learned already you can't use logic with this people cause they don't know it. They want to live in their made up world with the narratives that feed into their craziness.

[thisworldisablackhole]

Sprawl Trilogy first impressions

God damnit, Gibson really did it this time didn’t he? The man really knows how to string you along and then ghost your ass mid dinner - dipping out of the bathroom window to leave you calculating the tip on your own.

Upon writing this, I have just finished Mona Lisa Overdrive, so I’m full of post-book emotions. Mona Lisa Overdrive took me the longest to read out of the 3 books. Part of that is due to the fact that I was getting distracted and spending full days writing posts on this blog about music and other stuff, and part of it is due to the fact that it is simply the most narratively dense book in the series.

After reading all three I have to say that Neuromancer is still my favourite. It had the most satisfactory ending by far, and perhaps the most cohesive vision. Count Zero is the only entry in the series that was kind of a dud for me. Upon finishing the trilogy, I think there is still some important world building information in that book that is worth revisiting, but the semi-boring characters mixed with all the weird heady spiritual stuff just didn't click for me. Not to mention the finale was much like when you try to pop a bubble on a sheet of bubble wrap and it sort of just softly squeezes out the air without making a sound. Virek going from being on the verge of unlimited power to completely ceasing to exist within the span of a few pages just made me go... "oh.... alright then".

Many people claim that Mona Lisa Overdrive is the best, and I can see where they are coming from, but I must admit I am just not a huge fan of the multi character perspective switching that happens between every chapter. Neuromancer still had it's fair share of innate complications that come from being based in a highly technological word (and written by an author who trusts the intelligence of the reader way too much), but it had a single driving perspective that was easy to stay engaged with. Count Zero caught me off guard with it's perspective shifting right away and it took me almost half the book to really pin down all the who what and where's to a point where I felt connected to each thread. Fortunately Gibson improved on this method of writing A LOT with Mona Lisa Overdrive. Even though he upped the narrative threads from three to four, the characters felt more fleshed out and were easier to connect with.

There is still so much I don't fully understand about the story. The end of Mona Lisa Overdrive wrapped up a lot of loose ends from the previous two books while simultaneously opening a pandora's box full of new questions and theories to explore. I do feel like Gibson added a bit of unnecessary information for the pure sake of complicating the plot and throwing you off balance, but it was nonetheless fascinating. Kumiko's entire involvement in particular was a huge question mark for me. Not to say I didn't enjoy her character. I loved the interactions between Kumiko and Colin. The whole idea of a handheld maas neotek personality construct that acts as a guide/companion that only she can see was really fun, but I kept waiting for her involvement in the whole switcheroo deal to make sense and then it turned out she was never really involved in that aspect of the story in the first place.

On that note, one of the beautiful things I learned to accept about Gibson's writing is that he loves to leave the reader in the dark. There were many times where I felt like an idiot for not fully understanding what was going on, only to have Gibson drop the answers straight into my lap in the last quarter of the book. I found reading this series a lot more enjoyable when I just relaxed and went along for the ride instead of asking questions. The knowledge and context you gain by the end of the books almost beg you to read them again, and that is why I refuse to do a full in depth review until that happens. I just can't do them justice until I fully understand.

#william gibson #neuromancer #count zero #mona lisa overdrive #cyberpunk #sci fi #books

[momentomori24]

Ok, ZERO ESCAPE 999. This game was a weird one for me. Definitely great, do not get me wrong--- I LOVE this game to pieces and after finishing this post I will finally start VLR during the weekend (hopefully), and mull over the characterization because what the hell, everyone is absolutely hilarious (Junpei, Snake, Seven and Santa specifically I'm looking at you)--- but it certainly left me with a bunch of questions to which I have no answers. Which makes sense considering the next game will most probably pick up where 999 left off so I won't touch on that too much, but everything really felt like a crazy, confusing, convoluted fever dream. In a good way. But still, very cryptic.

Speaking about fever dreams, June's situation is the most unique circumstance for a character I think I've ever seen. If I have everything correct (and correct me if I'm wrong), she originally died in the present timeline in the incinerator room long ago and somehow the Akane we meet in the Nonary Game exists simultaneously dead and alive at the same time in the aftermath of that event--- so basically Schrödinger's cat. The Nonary Game was set up to make Junpei save the Akane through telekinesis to create either a separate timeline or more likely influence the present one so that she can exist normally. That's why she's doomed to disappear in every ending; Junpei doesn't get to recreate that exact scenario in the incinerator room, so past Akane never reaches him and dies the way she was supposed to, meaning June ceases to exist as a consequence. And the burning fevers she would randomly get are her body reliving the memories being burned in the incinerator room 9 years ago. Did I get that all right? If so, then wow, that's not a twist I saw coming at all. Props to the creator of the game, but also how dare you doom my girl like this.

My biggest question how tho. I know that's not the best question to ask in a game where we are literally on the replica of the titanic, the exact same place where half of the cast along with other kids where brought to almost a decade ago because they were targeted by a supposed medical company and leader of said company is also part of our gang, forced into solving locked rooms while death hangs over their heads until 9 hours are over but our protagonist can turn back time without even knowing it every time things go bad, but still. If it's revealed later on then please don't tell me. If not, go ahead.

This is my second attempt to type this because my first drafts somehow didn't save and I'm too lazy to re-do everything so I'll bullet point:

•What happened to Santa in the true ending? Correct me if I'm wrong but I don't think he was present during our car ride. Ace was there, though, despite being taken hostage by him and led away.

•So June is alive, right? Since we rewrote the timeline and helped Akane survive, what happened to her? She vanished on us during our confrontation with Santa, so where did she end up when everything was over?

•Who the hell killed everyone in the other endings? We know Clover goes crazy in one and Ace kills her in another, but what about the rest? We know it's not one of us because every single person we have gets slaughtered in the Sub endings with Junpei last. I did make post about it and I'll stick to what I said, but I guess I'll wait and see if the next game will answer.

•Who is Zero. That's it. I was thinking it was not Santa, to gradually being persuaded into thinking it could be him due to the evidence pointing into direction only for it to have really not him. He is actually more involved than most, but he's not the guy we're looking for (good). Give me answers, game.

Well, rant over for now. I'll probably slightly touch on VLR because I have an assessment to revise for, but I'm excited! I've heard a little about the gameplay and I'm really curious to see how it will pay out.

#momento rambles #zero escape #no proof read I die like my sleeping schedule