#Almost everything it does is an insult to the source material

[krafterwrites]

This movie truly makes me feel like I'm living in a mirror dimension

[eldritch-spouse]

after some sort of “accident” in the shop, there comes to be a fleshlight that is bound to admin. everything that happens to it, admin can feel! <3 admin attempts to hide it but has to go deal with some important business and leaves it in the break room. what’s going down?

[Oooh nice!! I changed the source of the fleshlight a bit though. Fem reader.]

TW: Sex toy sharing (unsanitary); Dubcon; Double penetration in one hole.

You have absolutely no idea what this is.

It felt like a joke in poor taste, at first.

This... Fleshlight -Because it can only be that- Appeared in the break floor. A deep violet case with golden swirls around the rim, featuring an uncannily realistic mold of none other than your pussy.

So many things went through your mind as you picked it up. Who could have done this? Certainly, to be here on display, only one of your staff team could have concocted such an insult.

Perhaps Santi. He did always have the strangest and lewdest gifts for everyone. He'd offered sex toys molded after notable figures before, this wouldn't be entirely uncharacteristic out of him. Did he simply forget it here or is he planning to give it to someone?

If not Santi, then maybe Nebul. He does operate the shop, and toys of all kinky kinds hold no secrets for him. He could easily make a custom one, right? But he's not the type of monster man to have such a careless lapse and forget his fleshlight on the kitchenette counter like this. This would have to be intentional of him.

It could also be Fank-e. Lord knows that robot will get his metallic little hands on any kind of genital attachment and weird toy he can find. Maybe the creep wants to use a model of your vulva as his own genitals. You wouldn't put such past him. It's a lot more likely the mechanical menace could have gotten distracted by something and left the toy out in the open.

Humming, morbid curiosity makes you gently touch the depraved imitation, fingertips dipping to scissor the thing open when you notice that it's clean.

Instant regret washes over you.

The moment you do such, it's as if phantom digits pierced into your covered cunt and physically spread you out. The thing is dropped back onto the counter and you bend to clutch your panty-covered privates as a sting of pain punishes you.

For a blank moment, you almost believe that Lord Krulu had been the one to finger you. Even if he usually likes to announce their presence before using your form. But it can't be! Your higher has been busy all day, you can feel how diminished his connection to you is right now. This is not his doing.

Paranoid, you glance behind you just to be sure that there really is no one somehow screwing with you. Predictably, you're alone.

Eyes narrowed, you pick the toy up again and reshape your approach, this time making a slow stroke up the left labia, feeling it in your right with a scary level of intensity. The quality of the material itself is strikingly life-like, not just cheap silicone. It's even... Warm? Dear Lord, it's probably the same temperature as you, as your insides. The thought has a gross kind of shiver racing up your spine. Daringly, you thumb over the imitation of your clitoris, met with direct feedback in your own body which perfectly corresponds to the tentative circular motions of your index over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You stop the moment your knees reflexively press forward.

This... Is magic. Which puts a new candidate on the table. The thought alone makes you scoff, could Patches truly be audacious enough to do this? No. Not at all. You don't doubt he'd take a toy molded in your vague resemblance to pathetically rut into- But actually connect said thing to your body? That's already a level of courage that can't be expected of the dullahan in question.

Unless... Ah, this can be the work of his trickster counterpart. That you find more believable.

A pulse in your pocket has you setting the plaything aside to check your phone, reading the text detailing your esteemed guest's arrival.

Maintaining ties to the Rings is imperative in this stage of Krulu's vision for the future. Hell and its denizens are apparently sources of great potential in your Lord-Master's eyes, and he's been very keen in keeping close ties to the fiendish rulership of said location. You're only too happy to help forge bonds with these demonlords, which means scraping around and trying to get to know them. Ironically, it falls upon you the responsibility to tempt them into seeking contact.

Your latest endeavor of this sort involves establishing an explorative partnership with one of the demonlords' sons. He's quite the character, and now that you know he has arrived at the front of The Clergy, you can't just leave royalty waiting.

Both hands busy with texting back a hasty reply, you panic as you try to guess where you could stuff this gross little thing away. Taking it with you is not an option, there's no pocket large enough to conceal the thing and its depraved outline.

Time is not on your side.

The meeting can't take that long, can it? What if you just... Left it in one of the cupboards above the kitchenette?

Yes, and then you'll come to retrieve it, interrogate the team to find which of these losers thought it was a bright idea to play with fire.

That'll do. Hopefully.

Opening a cupboard loaded with small plates and cups, you quickly stuff the fleshlight inside and make your way over to the elevator, fixing your hair and clothes to go greet someone of great importance.

Vinnel almost barges into the floor.

More of his coworkers had caught the ride up, talking amongst themselves idly, but the jester wasn't preoccupied with their small talk, he was ravenous.

The first item on his shift was a show he had been particularly looking forward to, an opportunity to test some bizarre new weaponry and a game whose rules he deliberated on for more than a week prior to the event itself. Needless to say, it was a display that took a lot of work, tears sweat and love poured into it- And fucking Hell did it pay off! He's ecstatic! And hungry. Starving.

Doing a good show always gets his stomach riled up.

Some flecks of blood still covering his suit, Vinnel is quick to dart to the kitchenette, ignoring anything and everything as he rummaged around for snacks that aren't there.

His temper spikes when the fridge is devoid of meals.

" Chef! " He barks, turning to the blue shroom monster in question, who is only now just setting his apron aside. Morell rises a brow. " You're slacking! "

The large monster scoffs into his scarf. " None o' you assholes got a fuckin' hint of shame, do ya?! " His locker door slams shut. " Ah ain't gonna cook for ya every single day! "

" But- What are we supposed to do then? Starve? " The waiter whines, making big twinkling magenta eyes at the other.

" Not fallin' for it. " Is Morell's flat response.

" Have you tried making your own food? " A bartender chimes in. " I know doing anything for yourself is challenging for you, but give it a try. "

" Rich coming from someone that can't cook for the life of him. "

The jester has entirely disconnected from the banter going on, a shred of hope driving him to keep searching fruitlessly. It's not as if he believes anything to be in the top shelves where cutlery is stored, but maybe one of them could be hiding some type of candy?

Slamming cabinets and cupboards open, the last thing he expects is for something to fall off them. So he nearly jumps in the air when a sizable object tumbles from the cupboard shelf right onto the carpeted ground.

The floor becomes silent, everyone stares blankly at the item in question for a pregnant pause.

Gloved orange digits pick the thing up, Vinnel bringing it closer to his mask. " Huh. "

He knows what it is exactly.

It looks very high-quality, and clean thankfully. Vinnel swears something about the model itself looks... Almost familiar. Hm. Nevertheless, laugher starts bubbling out his chest and he sways his head, juggling the thing.

" Ohohohoho!! " The next time the toy falls, Vinnel grips it viciously and points the thing right at-

" Morell! Such interesting kitchen utensils you have here... "

" Wha- That ain't mine! " The shroom retorts a little too fast.

" Suure. Then why was it in the cupboard, buddy? "

There's a glare, people around the chef are beginning to murmur amongst themselves.

" Like Hell ah know! For all I fuckin' know, ya could'a been tha one to put it there and fake tha whole thing- 'S yours! "

Vinnel titters, clapping as best as he can with his occupied hand. " Oh no, you think that lowly of little old me? " A feigned gesture of offense is met with no sympathy from the rest of the staff team, who do, in fact, think that lowly of the jester. " Unfortunately no, I don't usually perform tricks with fucktoys... Not the silicone ones anyway. "

" Well it ain't mine. " Morell insists. " Which one o' ya little sickos put a fuckin' pocket pussy in the kitchen? "

The suited performer, still vaguely examining the thing, finding it to be a little heavier than most of these toys tend to be given the materials involved in their manufacturing, swivels his head towards the next suspect.

" Sex pest! "

Santi, already very interested in the turn of events this day is taking, smiles as if just having been complimented. " Yes? "

" Why did you put your fucktoy here? " The performer looms over his demonic coworker, accusatory and demeaning. " So we could find it? So you could be gross about it, hm? "

The incubus hums, eyes on the toy rather than his frilled coworker. " Mm no, that's not my toy sweetheart. Though do let me have a closer look, maybe I can find a trace of our dirty little culprit... "

" Liar! " Vinnel spits.

Santi chuckles, making a move to grab the object yet thwarted when Vinnel angles it away.

" And why would I lie, love? If it was mine I'd tell you readily. I've brought toys to work before, haven't I? Never lied about it. "

And he's right, much to the jester's chagrin. The incubus could bring a cum-soaked dildo into this floor shamelessly, he wouldn't lie about a fleshlight.

Vinnel growls and floats back to point it directly at Nebul, but the shopkeeper beats him to the punch.

" I do not bring items from the shop into the break floor. Furthermore, I don't recognize that model. Does it have a brand? "

The jester checks, flipping the thing in all angles only to find neither words nor numbers printed anywhere. He glances to the crowd around him again, gears turning, machinating, until his attention falls on the dullahan, making Vinnel dart to him.

" You've been far too quiet this whole time, gourd brains... " He accuses, painted eyes narrowing.

Patches flusters, arms raised and leaning back. " What- What do you want me to say? I don't- "

That vegetable expression shifts suddenly, going from uncomfortable and anxious to complete focus. It's enough to make the jester tilt his head. " What? "

" That thing is brimming with magic. " He points out, leaning closer as if the gesture could reveal more by itself.

" ... Is it now? " Vinnel won't lie. It's a possibility. The fleshlight looks and feels anything but normal.

" You- You do know what that means, right? " Patches fumbles, squirming in mild discomfort. Those green cheeks acquire a tint that makes the jester's eyes roll in irritation behind his mask.

" Oh do fucking enlighten me, you masochistic kabocha. "

" Boys, boys- " Santi starts, tail wagging as he wedges himself between the two men. " We're missing the point. I've seen this before. That little thing is connected to some poor sap. And, if I'm not suddenly visually impaired, it looks extremely human to me. "

Another moment of silence stretches across the room

The jester's inked grin widens, and armed with a brand new realization, he starts feathering his digits along the edges of the pocket pussy's entrance, paying close attention to it. His mask nearly falls off when the thing physically seems to twitch. Uhuhu!

" No. " Belo begins, pointing a trembling finger at the demon. " You wouldn't dare suggest- "

" That our lovely Administrator has sent us a gift? " Santi challenges, tone sultry. " But of course, Belo! This is a reward for our hard work, and ohh, I just can't wait to make the most of it. "

Vinnel has now managed to slip one finger inside, completely tuned off to the conversation happening right next to him. Shock of all shocks, the thing hugs his digit as if it were real. And, as he experimentally removes the intrusion, a sheen of what can only be arousal wets his gloves. It really is you. He just fingered you. Hah!

" Filthy beast! You shall not touch that, this can't be right. " The angel's wings flex and twitch in growing agitation. As always, he seems very eager to try to choke the life out of Santi- And he would, if he didn't already know that the demon would immediately salaciously get off on it.

" But what if it is? What if she wants us all to take turns, experience her supple little cunt? " He taunts, surfing the room, gouging the reactions of his coworkers as most of them flush with sudden want at the idea. Yes, they like it as much as he does, Santi's just honest about it. " Would you reject her gift, Belo? "

The power in question is puffed like an angered parakeet, a myriad of emotions warring in those expressive, large eyes. " Control that foul tongue of yours lest I rip it off your worthless mouth and make your depraved clients very disappointed. "

" One day you'll revel in your own perversions. " He says it calmly, as if it were fact, grinning when the angel prepares another outburst.

" Guys. "

Vinnel is now two fingers deep into the magical fleshlight, a stupefied look on his face as he finds the toy -You- Welcoming him without resistance. You clench around him. Gods, he can't wait to stuff his cock in there, to fuck you, to rail you knowing that you can't do anything to stop him. At least not until you find him. Oh, he could make a game out of it!

" She's practically dripping. " The jester pulls both fingers out, spreading them to showcase a film of arousal between both digits.

" She's... Enjoying this. " Patches murmurs, breathy, fixated on the dirty gleam.

" Alright, if you're done being manchildren, I want to go first. " The slime suddenly pipes up, moving in on the stage performer.

" My ass you will! " Grimbly gets in the way, scoffing.

Vinnel finds a crowd of monsters suddenly gather around him, hands twitching for the item in his hands, eyes glinting like wolves corralling a chicken in its coop.

" Give me that, jester, it needs to be secured somewhere safely- "

" No no, give it to me, I'll make her feel so good! "

" Maybe if I have it, I- I can tell whose magic this is. "

" It was in mah cupboard, maybe she wants me ta be first! "

" Nuh uh!! " The jester suddenly shouts, floating higher in the air. " Finders keepers! Piss off! "

An ashy hand clamps around his ankle, jostling the bells there. " Were you not accusing us of being perverse? Let us take that dirty thing off your hands. " Nebul beckons.

As he's tugged down, Vinnel deforms his limbs inside his suit to twist away from the hands pawing at him. Growling, he pulls away, towards the window, towards the outside. If he can make it through the window, a significant portion of the staff team will be halted in their pursuit. He might get to hide with the toy and keep it all for himself.

Gallon, anticipating this, moves fast. Yellow tendrils coil over both the jester's legs and waist, trying to pull the extended arm back into the room even as Vinnel tries his damndest to keep it at out, his arm bending weirdly inside its red sleeve.

" Fuck off! All of you sad sacks of shit- This is MINE! " The slime gargles and screams, other hand clinging to the tall window's edge as tightly as possible. " I found it! "

" Stop strugglin' boy. We gonna talk this out. " The chef chuckles, successfully using brute strength to start pulling him inside.

The others help. He's fighting a losing battle and he knows it.

As soon as the performer feels a disturbance in the fabric of his suit's composition, he freezes. Primal, soul-shaking terror, grabs a hold of his body and he gasps, shrieking as he drops both hands to instantly claw, kick and try to mangle whoever's about to possibly rip his suit.

There's a chorus of pained cries and he's thrown to the ground, clinging to his form for dear life. Literally. Because if anything opened, he would potentially leak to the carpet and meet his end very quickly.

" Gah-! You useless clown! He dropped it! " The bat squeals, a high-pitched noise that grates on everyone's ears.

Vinnel startles. His possible panic attack and frantic body checking is halted by the sudden realization that yes, he did drop the fleshlight in his panic. That means...

The orange and purple menace stumbles to a stand shoving the group bent over the window aside to poke his head out and see for himself where the sex toy landed. After a few grunts and curses, the view is revealed.

On the grass of the garden outside the building, the toy landed sideways, rolling aimlessly over mutated flowers that lean away from the unidentified object. There's a beat of stillness.

Everyone knows it's only a matter of time until the thing is retrieved, possibly by a client, which means they'd have to waste time hunting for a random loser before getting to their prize. They exchange stares, aware that as soon as someone moves, the hunt is on, the game starts.

And yet, before even a step towards the elevator is taken, the scene below them changes.

A bench sat some distance away uncurls, black iron body turning into a grayed gangly mass with a wooden chest for a head, teeth poking out of it. Said monster seems to stretch himself before moving on all fours to inspect the thing.

Sybastian squats, picks up the fleshlight. Although his eyes are hidden in the great darkness of his objectum head, everyone can practically see the gears turning in his head.

The mimic glances up, perplexed yellow eyes staring dubiously at his coworkers.

" Syb. " Patches calls, reaching a hand out. " That is very special, leave it there. Do not touch it- "

Too late.

" No! No!! "

He found a toy, he's going to play with it. Sybastian starts hurriedly moving out of view.

" Motherfucker! I'll gut you! " Vinnel screeches, banging uselessly on the building's exterior.

" Blasted mimic... " Belo is the first to peel off the window. " What do we do now?! "

" Well... " Morell sighs, pulling his apron back on while everyone sulks and simmers.

" We go huntin'. "

Huh.

Isn't that one way to wake up...

Sybastian's nap had been disturbed when he sensed an impact nearby. It couldn't have been something very large, but part of his hunting routine involves being in that fine line between resting and alert enough to sense the faintest vibrations, categorize them as noteworthy or not on a subconscious level. His curiosity had him rising anyway, shedding his disguise and following the direction of the sound until he found...

A sex toy.

In the middle of the grass.

His eyes don't deceive him, he knows what kind of toy this is, has seen them in the undead's shop. They're the kind you can fuck into, small and convenient.

He was unsure as to why such a thing had been tossed out, so he looked around and found most of his coworkers already fixed on him. It didn't take a genius to piece together the fact that they had been likely squabbling over the thing.

Yet, oddly, it didn't smell used. In fact, it featured an odor Sybastian could swear he's had his face buried in before.

The mischief of his nature acted up, and the mimic crawled away with the toy held in his maw.

He knows the rest of them will come looking for him immediately, so the mimic scurries deep into the less stable parts of the garden- Where Hellion tends to dwell. The parts that can shift, remold and relocate themselves in the blink of an eye as the establishment periodically "refreshes" itself. It's a gamble, he admits, but it's the only place staff will hesitate to enter due to its volatile nature. Sybastian is more well-equipped to deal with these areas, given he spends most of the time in the garden, has learned many of its tricks.

Let them bump around like blind moles.

Eventually, Sybastian finds an area dense in plantlife, a good distance away from the main building already, and sensing no approaching threats, the mimic seats himself next to a wide trunk, spitting his conquest into his hands and taking the time to examine it.

It's a fancy fuck-pocket alright.

Curious about the scent, he drags the thin end of his tongue across the length of the artificial pussy, eyes widening when taste hits him. Not just any taste, arousal and wetness and- Human. A human he's put that same roving muscle upon before.

You.

Sybastian is certain these things aren't meant to have such specific tastes. He's not sure how such a thing came into being, a carbon sort of copy of your cunt, but he understands why the others were fighting over it. Syb would too.

A little thrill crawls along the length of his spine.

No time to waste, he better make use of this before he's accosted by a swarm of angry monsters.

The mimic drools and smiles as he pushes a good portion of his deep blue tongue past sweet folds and into the surprisingly warm, hugging insides of the toy. He removes his loincloth hastily and palms his already chubbing cock to the thought of you flipping your work outfit up and spreading yourself out so he can have full access to that puffy pussy. The mental image of your provocative, inviting smile while you grab onto the fat of your ass has him moaning, dick pulsing.

Fucking the pathetic little escapists is one thing, but nothing beats your delicious, perfect holes. You have everyone here by the balls and Sybastian is no different.

Releasing a filthy murr of anticipation, the mimic's shackles rattle as he brings the now thoroughly slobbered pocket pussy down, teasing it along the head of his cock.

Oh, if all of them feel this real then he really has to bother Nebul for one.

Sybastian swears he feels it quiver against his length, panting as soon as he starts sinking it onto his thick length. The moment his tip pops in, he rumbles, feeling its walls immediately clinging to him, spasming in such a life-like manner he can't help bucking into it, greedily and impatiently stuffing more of himself into the exceptionally pleasurable fucktoy.

He couldn't take it slow even if he wanted to, claws curling viciously around the purple tube as he starts jerking himself off with it in earnest, loud groans echoing amidst his panting. It feels exactly like you! Hot and tight and spongy and so so good, he loves to fuck you- This is going to be his favorite toy ever.

Syb's hips snap into a grossly desperate rhythm, a lurid plap of skin on wet artificial skin as his balls hit it with every senseless rut upwards. His maw closes slightly, the mimic's eyes glaze and he pictures you there. On his lap, back turned to him, juicy ass on full display while you put both palms on his gangly knees and ride the monster for all he's worth, milking his cock and drooling like you've never had better.

Gods, if Sybastian focuses enough, he can almost feel the softness of your rump on him with each thrust. He wishes he could grab onto your waist, onto the cushion there, and use you the same way he's using this copy to breed into.

You're the hottest, prettiest little human he'll ever have the opportunity to stuff himself into.

There isn't a single intelligent thought in Sybastian's head when he starts grinding the pocket-pussy down, the tensing of his legs and abdomen bringing him ever closer to that sweet release, and he's looking forward to flooding the fucktoy full of his cum, feeling it clench heavenly around him the same it has been for a while now.

With one last, obscenely loud slap of his meat into the fleshlight, Sybastian howls and throbs hard, coming undone with great intensity and melting onto the grassy ground, the feeling of his own hot jizz spurting out the toy and leaking past his balls to coat this thighs a depraved sign of his victory.

He lies there, boneless from his own orgasm, hand still clumsily dragging your toy up and down his now spent cock, and all is well for a blissful moment.

...

Until-

" Bravo. Mm, good show... "

Sybastian peers up, not as sharp as he would be now that he's disoriented from cumming. A pair of glowing green eyes poise on him, and none other than the incubus makes it past the foliage of this part of the garden.

He's vaguely surprised the other was brave enough to come here.

" What? " Santi places a hand to his hip. " Thought I wouldn't find you? I could smell you getting off like a rabid animal, you need more than greenery to hide from me. "

Fair. Syb was being loud too. He doesn't let go of the toy however, suspiciously allowing the demon to lewdly scheme the dirty mess between his legs.

" Hand me the fleshlight, love. "

There's a growl. Santi frowns.

" Oh come now, you greedy slut, I'll make sure you get something out of it too. " He lulls, drawing closer slowly, to the point where he stands in front of the mimic, before crouching.

Sybastian keeps growling faintly, pulling out of the fleshlight to hold it away from the high-ranker, a gross pool of cum still oozing off the recently used thing. He doesn't miss the way the incubus' nostrils flare.

" Why, I'll even tell you a little secret, hm? "

Santi crawls between the mimic's legs, collecting a bead of the monster's cum and putting it to his mouth, luridly sucking the fluid off his finger before spitting onto his palm and using it to stroke Sybastian.

What begins as overstimulated shocks that force his legs to twitch and squirm away is forcibly turned into a brand new wave of arousal and need. He doesn't fight it, letting himself get stimulated anew and only offering a little bit of resistance when Santi pulls the fucktoy out of his grasp.

If he's here... Where are the others?

" What if I told you this little thing here- " Santi starts, selfishly and deliberately fingering globs of cum out of the toy for his own amusement. Syb notes the rigid length bobbing between his coworker's dark thighs. " Is loaded with magic? "

A toothy head tilts in confusion. Sybastian kind of assumed there was something unknown at play here, he just can't tell the implications.

" You can smell it, right? You know who this reminds you of. "

Syb's eyes widen.

" Did you also know that this fleshlight is connected to our Admin? She felt everything you just did to her, Sybastian. " The incubus chuckles, letting his drool seep onto the rim of your pussy, then spreading the aphrodisiac fluid over your lips, circling you clit with it languidly.

Sybastian doesn't need to be a scientist to know you're probably losing your mind by now.

" Oh you fucked her open like a rabid bull. I wish I could see her state right now- I bet she's sweating a storm in her clothes, her own cum and wetness dripping down her legs, too cock-drunk to speak! What a good job you did... "

Sybastian spaces off slightly, picturing what the results of his careless and selfish fucking must have reduced you to. He almost feels bad, if the image the Lust demon painted in his head wasn't so awfully erotic. He literally used you.

" Mmm, now, let's give her something to really scream about, big boy. "

In a blur of movement, Santi presses against the gray monster, both lengths squeezed together, pumped hastily a couple times but with practiced precision that makes Syb groan. And then, much to his growing amusement and shock, the incubus hovers your toy above them both, strings of falling seed used to further lubricate both of them.

The demon looks to be burning with anticipation, shuddering as he presses the thing down.

" ... Won't. Fit. " The mimic eventually mumbles, wondering if Santi's intent is to actually rip you open.

" Don't be silly- " There's a rasped snicker. " I've seen her bounce on Lord Krulu's lap. Just lie back and let me make this memorable for the three of us. "

It's a stretch. A fat stretch, but it seems the magical properties of the toy are indeed aligned with your own physical limitations, because the fleshlight gradually accepts both monsters, clenching with mind-melting pressure against both leaking cocks.

Santi is the first to moan low and needy, claws sinking into the bark of the tree his coworker leans against so he can steady himself in the face of such sudden ecstasy. Sybastian follows with his own trill, their members twitching and pulsing, trapped against each other, within you.

When Syb makes a disoriented motion to try and grasp the thing, make it move over them both, the incubus snaps his teeth at him in a language the other understands, determined to control the pace. And control he does, viciously pumping them both off, twisting, grinding the thing frequently.

A pace that would otherwise certainly chafe both males is now sloppy and soaked, lubricated by Syb's seed, your wetness and Santi's precum. They fuck themselves silly, trading groans and frantically bumping their hips, one moment thrusting in perfect sync, the next selfishly seeking their own pleasure.

The incubus' tongue hangs and he tosses his head back when a certain familiar pace of contractions around him is felt.

" Oh- Ohhh fuck- " He calls to the other. " Feel that? Yeah? " Sybastian nods and makes a strangled ambiguous noise. " She's cumming. Hard. "

Both of them grow fevered, preening at the knowledge.

" I hope she's fucking screaming. I hope she's trying to guess who we are. "

The fiend had always been too good with his obscene little comments, Sybastian's second, overstimulated orgasm is flayed out of him with no ounce of mercy. Santi gets almost hysterical with the conquest, getting high off the power he's exerting over both you and the mimic, climbing to his peak and letting his eyes roll back when the first pulses of an approaching end seize him.

The only reason he doesn't scream when he's suddenly grabbed by the horns is because there was already little breath in his lungs to begin with.

A pair of metallic, sticker-adorned arms loom from above, rigged hands wrenching his head back to face a slightly cracked visor displaying a deceitfully friendly face.

" 1'll B3 t4k1Ng 7H4t N0w. :] "

Fuck.

His robotic coworker uses superior reflexes to grab the toy, wrench it off both monsters, and bolt out of sight with surprising speed for a being of such immense density.

Instincts claw at the hellish monster. He only stands there for a stunned second, clutching nothing but air, before he's snarling like a feral creature and racing after the party bot, pushing many of his other coworkers away.

Grimbly gains on all of them, but when the incubus drops onto all fours the two collide and roll away in a mess of shouting limbs.

Gallon passes by them and laughs, then gets lashed aside by a whip lit on dullahan fire.

Vinnel is thrown across the garden, apparently launched away by Fank-e cackling in the distance.

This isn't ending any time soon...

[demeterdefence]

even ignoring everything else wrong with lore olympus (which in itself feels impossible) there is just something really egregious and insulting at the way a "modern retelling" over an ancient greek myth just full-heartedly whitewashes the entire culture and mythos.

and it's not like rachel is the first to do it - greek myths and legends have been whitewashed for centuries, depictions of the gods have been categorically stripped of their ethnicity and origins long before rachel got a hold of them. it's the fact that rachel goes out of her way to insult the original myths whenever she can, that she emphasizes and pushes a western-centric mindset and viewpoint over and over and over and not only reinforces the whitewashing, but continues it down the line.

like, this is the first episode.

rachel goes out of her way to mock the original styles and wardrobes of the ancient greek world, and i get her attempt was to make persephone feel "out of place" with the more "modern" clothing that the other gods wear, but it really just does more to a) demonize demeter, who is almost always in traditional clothing, b) sexualize persephone.

go even broader with it, move away from the clothing itself, and rachel doesn't even bother to use any of the ancient traditions that are core to the myths. like for the love of god, she uses a christian wedding for persephone and hades!

greece is the birthplace of modern democracy and had a powerful judicial system, and rachel instead uses the modern / western iteration of court because ... why not

(completely unrelated but the inserts of everyone except eros and aphrodite come from the stupid zoom session zeus had back when he first charged persephone with treason, meaning we have proof yet again that rachel isn't drawing the characters into the scene, she's making pngs and sticking them into pre-arranged backgrounds downloaded from stock images)

and there are ten thousand more examples i could pull, because this is just the whole entire comic. you can look at a lot of modern adaptions and see where things have been modernized respectfully, and where they are done with disdain for the source material - no one is claiming percy jackson, for example, is perfect, but the author took a great deal of care in his research, and the love for the original myths and culture shine through. lore olympus has zero respect for the original stories, exemplified in how rachel demonizes demeter - the actual crux of the myth. it's bad writing and bad research and further attempts to whitewash a rich and storied culture that had people from so many walks of life, who existed in full spectrum of lgbt identity, who did not conform or even know of the world that exists today. you can modernize without erasing it, and rachel's refusal to do so is one of the many issues tacked to lore olympus.

[wolven91]

The Ceremony

As the ursidain leant in, claws filled with sharp implements and teeth bared in concentration, James lifted his chin, defiant of the nerves that threatened him. He willed himself still, despite his fear. 

Her hands reached for the material that covered the man and stabbed a sliver of metal through it. It was sharpened shard and as long as his finger, although thinner. It seemed impossible for her to be so dexterous with such massive paws around such a tiny device. The man’s eyes snapped to the side as the archway that led to the room they were in rattled as the curtain made of beads and polished stones hissed and cascaded. It reminded the human of heavy rain. 

“He looks pretty good! After what you said, I was worried you weren’t going to be able to get him ready in time!” Declared the newcomer in a jovial tone before joining the former lone occupants of the room. He joined the pair and settled his own paws against his double wide hips, wearing a carefree grin as he leant back and observed the human from above. Appraising her work.

The seamstress leant back onto her stool, her mighty paws on her knees. She wore elegant blues and turquoise. The robes that flowed off her stopped at her shoulders and fitted her rotund form closely, allowing her to move unimpeded as she had been, slowly moving around James as the sun crept across the sky through the window. She had spent the last hour putting finishing touches to the robe that now covered him. 

It was a facsimile to the one that covered the newcomer, Hensra. 

James had saved Hensra’s life only days before. His fear had been forced aside by bravery for a mere scant few moments, but it was enough to prevent the ursidain from meeting his end. 

That was why James was here. 

On Source, the ursidain homeworld. 

Why he was being fitted for a ceremonial robe by the clan leader’s personal seamstress. 

All as a reward for his bravery in saving the only son of the current clan lord. Above as the clan leader was above all other clans. 

“When you said you needed a rush order for a new member, I expected someone…” She glanced at James’s face, “Larger.” James said nothing. 

“Hey. He’s big where it counts.” Declared the male, hitting his own chest with a fist. “He looks good though.” Hensra complemented, gesturing at the red and black robes that fitted James perfectly. The seamstress reached forward and for a moment her hands and wrists blocked out the world either side of James’s head. Then her fingers pinched the hood that hung around James’s shoulders and brought it up and over. 

It hung low, covering the man’s head all the way down to his eyebrows. He could see the two ursidains, at least their knees. 

“Of course he does. I made this. Is everything prepared for tonight?” Sniffed the seamstress, seemingly satisfied with her work.

“Yeah, I just need to tell our friend James here, how it's going to go.” Replied Hensra calmly. 

It was only when the seamstress twisted at the hip as she stood to openly stare at Hensra that James realised that this was not something that should have been left until now. . 

“You haven’t told him? This is happening this evening, Hensra.” The older woman pointed out with an incredulous tone. Almost admonishing what was essentially a prince. 

“He’s brave. It’ll be fine.” Dismissed the large male with a wave of his paw.

“Fool!” Snapped the older lady. “How you came from your father’s loins is beyond me. Every year I am yet more certain that he found a particularly talkative rock and named it ‘Hensra’.” The seamstress declared with blatantly no fear of punishment for such brazen insults. She picked up her equipment and packed it away in haste. The male gave the human a shrug but said nothing as she tidied rapidly. 

Before she left though, as a silhouette in the open archway, the tall female turned back. Her eyes shone the sunlight that was filtering into the room back at James. The gleam in the dark. A predator’s eyes. Something buried deep within James’s evolution cried out in fear. Fear of the cave bear. Hunter of man. 

“He may be a fool, but the boy speaks only truths for as long as I’ve had the displeasure of dressing him. Listen to his instructions. Obey them. Be brave. Good luck James of Earth.” And with that, and a rattle of beads, she was gone. 

James felt doubt replace her as a presence in the room. 

“Right.” Hensra started, clapping his great paws together. “Let's talk about tonight…”

== 0 ==

The veil of the darkness of night had settled across the plains and the giant rocky cliff faces that stood in front of them. Only the moonlight illuminated the path. The five figures stood in the dark at the very mouth of a valley. At the end of the valley, at the top of the hill, was a bright bonfire that burnt steadily, licking at the vertical cavern walls. It cast strange shadows that played with the eyes. 

Sparks rose in the distance, disappearing into the sky. This was the premier clan’s ancestral grounds. Were tradition demanded they respect the old ways. 

From James’s position, as he watched the sparks, he noticed the three moons of Source had aligned perfectly over the bonfire and the crowd that were at the top of the hill. The three sisters were why this ceremony had to happen so soon. 

A pair of horns, placed on the very top at the cliff edge on either side of the valley entrance declared the beginning of the event. Even from all the way down at the bottom of the valley,; James could see how big the horns were. He watched as dark shapes, ursidains, approached, reached up and began a single mighty and long sound through the horns. Both were strong and sure, perfectly in time with one another. The sound echoed through the valley, but also out into the plains at the five robed figure’s backs. 

It declared the beginning of the ceremony. 

“Here we go. Translators out.” Whispered the familiar voice of Hensra, robed as James was. Hensra was at the head of the convoy of four robed ursidains and one robed human who was second to last in line. He would lead the way. James dug the translator bead from his ear and slipped it into a pouch on the inside of his robes. 

A powerful voice shouted and called out from the top of the valley. An ursidain and one with a voice so loud and clear James heard every word. It was clearly a declaration of some kind, not an invitation or question. 

“Aaaah! Dree! Dah! Kai! Sky! Vah!” James had no clue what the words meant, but the three ursidains ahead of him began walking towards the bonfire and the one that shouted. 

The five robed figures began their ascent of the valley. Drums began, marking their approach. A steady beat that almost matched James’s heart as it drummed within his chest. As it echoed down towards them, James noted it was a staccato beat. 

James recalled what Hensra had explained to him as they walked. 

*”First, we’ll ascend the valley to the ancestral clan grounds. We can’t talk once we start. Throughout all of this, you’re not expected to speak or respond.”*

James nervously smiled under the deep hood as he kept pace with the larger creatures. A walk for them meant a quick paced march or even a mild jog for him. Whether they were taking their time for him, the human wouldn’t know, but he made sure to keep up. Wind blew in from the plains behind them and played with the heavy hems of their robes. James barely felt it.

In James’s nerves, and concentration not to put a foot wrong as he walked up the hill, the man barely even realised how quickly they made their way up the path. Within what seemed like moments, they had already approached the edges of the ‘camp’. 

A wall of fur and broad shoulders prevented the five robed figures from progressing further. Unphased, Hensra walked forwards without hesitation until at the very last moment, as James expected him to slam into the back of the ursidain, the ursidains who had their back to the newcomers parted. 

A path appeared almost instantly. 

A low rumbling chant began. Every single ursidain held the beat with the drums, a short word for each thud.  

“He Ooh Gos Ran Dun Niu Yeh Petro Hes Manus Laga Sota Lah.”

James kept his head low as Hensra had told him to. 

*”When we get to the bonfire, we line up and present ourselves to the leaders.”*

James took his spot next to the other robed ursidain. A fugitive glance from beneath his hood showed him how to stand. The other robed figures had their shoulders back, chin parallel to the ground. James matched them as the crowd continued to chant, only now a low grumble had appeared beneath the words as a rumbling growl. 

The crowd on the other side of the fire were all staring, all chanting, their eyes gleaming in the dark. As the human watched, it appeared that as the ursidains across from him finished a line in the chant, in turn they would draw out the final words into animalistic howls, craning their heads back and ultimately roaring, growling or outright screaming into the sky. 

Three of the largest ursidains James had ever seen, were stood directly between the fire and the five robed figures as they waited in a row. James tried to remember what was next. 

*”First, the test of nerve. He’ll try to intimidate you. You can flinch at any point after this, but not to him.”*

One of the shadows stomped forwards and James steeled himself, expecting something loud or sudden. He was right and wise to have done so as the ursidain roared and snarled and bellow at someone further down the line, what James assumed was their face. 

It wasn’t long before it was James’s turn. His hood was torn from his head, but James remained still. 

*”He can’t touch you. It’s just bravado.”*

“HUURGH! GARREE DARINMURAH!” Roared a maw full of teeth and spittle, scant centimetres away from the human’s face. James willed himself to remain still and calm. He was rock, and would allow the water to merely flow over him. 

With that, the roaring face was gone, shouting at the next and final in line.

The first shadow that had done the shouting disappeared into the crowd, hidden instantly amongst the shadows and flickering lights given off by the fire. 

The second silhouette approached. 

*”Next is the taste of character… Trust in her… She decides whether this is successful or not.”*

She raised her hand into the air, a glint of steel flashed before she brought her hand down in a swift strike that left James’s sight. He heard and felt the ‘thud’ of flesh on flesh at high speeds as well as a grunt by Hensra.

The figure did the same action two more times, before a huge belly appeared in James’s vision. He tilted his head back to meet the new ursidain’s eyes. A female by the looks of it. On her hand, capping her first finger, was a metal spike, like a weaponised thimble. If she hit him with that, not only would James go flying, the spike would definitely go deeper, into more important things than if he were an ursidain with literal inches of blubber. 

The ursidain raised her hand as before. 

For lack of a better idea, James tensed, grit his teeth an set his jaw and held his shoulders back. He’d come this far, he would not be found wanting now. 

Something struck James in the pec. It was solid hit, like a cricket ball striking him. He grunted, but otherwise blinked in shock. She had pulled her punch!

James glanced back up at her, only to see a single red droplet, gleaming in the firelight. The ursidain touched it to her tongue, before nodding and repeating the process with the fifth and final ursidain.

With that, she too melted into the crowd. 

Which suddenly went silent, with the exception of those that were growling or howling. They finished in their own time until all the remained was the crackling of the bonfire and the howling of a distant wind. 

“Whoooar! Tami Ro Mara!” Bellowed the hits and final ursidain, framed by the flames. He was by far and away, the largest, tallest ursidain that James had ever seen; even on a planet of them. He held his arms up in a declaration, one that James had no clue of what it meant. 

Whether it was positive, or negative? He might have declared them blood brothers or announced they were to be eaten and the human wouldn’t have had a clue without the translators. 

The titan shouted again to the crowd, his arms still up and turning so all could see and hear him.

“Whoooar! Tami Ro Mara!” 

This was an unseen trigger as the entire crowd erupted in their own cheers, starling James until he flinched at the sheer wall of noise that battered him from all sides. All seriousness was lost, the robed ursidains tore their hoods from their heads and joined in with the shouts, jumping in place and hurling themselves around. 

For a brief moment, James feared for his safety as titanic bodies, easily twice his size, threw themselves chaotically in their mad joy. That was until a strong hand grabbed the back of James’s robe and hauled him clear of the floor. 

It was Hensra, who merely dropped James onto his broad shoulders, he grinned from ear to ear and spoke.

“Glyow weese? Ou bes Woul.” 

One of his paws reached up and tapped the pouch that contained James’s connection to the rest of the aliens. He quickly fitted them into place where they suctioned securely. 

“You’re one of us now!” Hensra declared, still grinning up at the human.

“You said you’d explain it afterwards, what do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re a clan brother now. You’re an ursidain!”

[r/WolvensStories]

[AO3]

[Ko-Fi]

[booktomoviebrawl]

We are not judging how bad the movie is, we are judging which adapted the book the worst. There are good movies that are bad adaptions.

Propaganda below the cut (spoilers may apply)

The Seeker: The Dark is Rising:

Painfully generic-dumbed-down-fantasy-action trying to channel better film franchises instead of the atmospheric, mythopoetic and lyrical children’s book it is technically based on. Bonus points for the open contempt people involved had for the source material, both in how they treated it and what they said about it.

BAD. Bad bad bad!! They completely changed Will's character. In the books he does get frustrated sometimes, but is mostly kind and patient and really makes you believe that he is both an ancient being and an 11 year old boy and in the movie they changed it so he's like really mad and angsty and just the total opposite of his actual character!! Absolute butchery. And they cut the Wild Hunt! And changed a bunch of other plot stuff and it overall just sucked.

where do I even begin. they made the main character American for no reason (this is perhaps the most egregious change), aged him up to 14, and added a straight romance subplot. they were so indecisive during production that they CUT AN ENTIRE MAIN CHARACTER in the time between the trailer and the actual film release. they completely fucked up all of Will’s family stuff. in pursuit of “relatability” they got rid of everything that makes the book good and put in THE most generic, poorly written, poorly acted (except Christopher Eccleston, who did okay), and poorly produced garbage. it was in theaters for like…less than a week; we were supposed to see it for my birthday but it was already gone. it doesn’t even have, like, half-decent special effects. it is an insult.

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children:

While Miss Peregrine was one of my favorite books as a kid and incredibly unique in the way the story is written (The author basically took a box of weird antique photographs and created an underlying story behind a handful of them) the movie is incredibly boring. Like seriously I can't remember a single goddamn thing about the movie besides my extreme disappointment with it after leaving the theatres. It's probably because the original is a trilogy but they didn't want to make it a trilogy for the movie so they just scrapped the ending of the first book and rewrote a shitty climax where they threw snowballs at the nightmare child eating creatures or something. I remember THAT scene perfectly because it was so, so dumb. It was so stupid oh my God- ALSO, thank God I have a copy of the book from before the film came out because new copies don't have one of the photographs that the actual book uses as a base anymore and instead have the shitty movie poster! We truly do live in a society.

Changed way too much so it doesn't feel like the same thing. The main characters are these kids with different abilities (called peculiarities) and the movie switches around their powers and changes almost everyone's age. Emma and Olive switch powers so that Emma now floats (they also added that she can kind of control air to some extent) when she's supposed to have fire powers to match her fiery personality. Olive can make fire now and she's also aged up from an eight year old to a teenager and put her in this weird romance with Enoch. Enoch is also aged up from a grumpy thirteen year old to around the same age as Olive. Bronwyn, one of the older kids in the book and sort of a motherly figure to the younger kids, is now one of the youngest kids. Hugh and Fiona are aged down and basically have no interaction at all in the movie, even when their book counterparts had such a good relationship. The only one they didn't really change was Horace and Jacob. They also added these gorgon twins that do like two things. The antagonist in the movie is Mr. Barron who honestly isn't super memorable and isn't in the books whatsoever. The ending of the movie is weird too because they manage to turn back time somehow so Jacob's grandfather isn't dead and then he hops through loops so he can be with Emma and the other peculiars. I guess the problem of wights and hollowgasts is magically eliminated and we do not have to deal with the consequences. It took six books to fix everything. I appreciate that the movie engaged me enough to read the series but once I did, I could not believe they did my kids that dirty.

Yikes where to start. The 3 girl characters are all mixed up. There are 2 teens, one who's super strong and has a brother (I'll get back to him) and one who controls fire and is the love interest named Emma. The third girl is a child called Olive who floats. She's lighter than air.

In the movie, strong girl is the child, olive is now the fire girl and is for some reason super introverted, and Emma the love interest floats and gets given a super breath??? Power?? Like she rises a sunken ship by blowing in and keeps a man blown against a wall by blowing air at him. He makes a remark that she'll run out of breath eventually, which happens here because plot convenience, but not when she's blowing in the sunken ship.

The enemies in the book are terrifying Hollows. Creatures who have lost themselves and devour souls of those with powers... The movie decides they eat eyes now. And turn human again. And get busted up in a fair for the final act of the movie. Ugh.

The movie also decides randomly that time travelling through the loops is a thing; a loop being a pocket of time that replays the same day over and over. But apparently this means Main Character can travel back in time and stop his grandfather dying??? What?? His grandfathers death is the whole start of the movie and motivation for the character.

The movie undermines many of things that made the book amazing and even decides it's not a trilogy anymore!! Fuck the other 2 books, right?!

Tldr; it is terribly hollywood-ised and t tim Burton ruined a franchise by trying too hard to make it quirky and fun when the books already had a brilliant sombre and interesting tone to them.

[nerdwriting]

The Creative Directors Behind Fate: The Winx Saga Must Not Be K-Pop Fans

Also, they have a pretty wrong idea of the role fashion should play in a show.

There are a few words that will stand out across most reviews of Netflix's Fate: The Winx Saga - drab, boring, flop, flat, unimaginative. Critics and audiences consensus is that the show is not only a mediocre-at-best story, but also an atrocious (and ultimately confusing) choice of adaptation of the color pop and fairy magic cartoon it’s based on, 2004 italian cartoon Winx Club.

Fate has plenty of it's own issues - white washing and erasing characters, cringey dialogue, outdated melodrama, etc. But where it truly, unequivocally fails is as an adaptation. Fate misses everything that was magical and lovable about the original series, in all levels, from bizarre writing choices, - such as never actually developing any sense of friendship between the characters, who are based on a cartoon about…..a group…….of friends -, but it's especially and immediately felt in the art direction and costume design.

Winx Club is set on a fantastical world, Magix, where each of our main characters hail from a different planet, à la Sailor Moon. Alfea, the fairy school they attend, is the most common background: a pastel colored, futuristic high tech-meets-fantasy, art nouveau inspired castle. Alfea sets the tone for the whole visual of the cartoon: bright, colorful, futuristic meets vintage, leaning into the technological positivism of the Y2K style, uniting it with magic, DnD worthy monsters and, of course, fairy wings. Often featured are also the Red Fountain school, where the Specialists train, and especially Cloud Tower, the goth and gothic inspired witch school Alfea has an OxBridge rivalry with (How cool would that be in a live action? I guess we’ll never know…).

On Fate, Alfea is the only school we ever see, and it’s another beige boarding school in not-Britain, somehow set in a magical world where everyone has the exact same technology and even social media that we have on Earth in 2021, no transformations and, most egregiously, no fairy wings.

This lack of visual creativity is pervasive throughout the whole show, and its most heartbreaking iteration is in the characters' wardrobe. The styling has the barest bones of a color scheme, - such as 'Bloom has to only dress in red since fire, duh',- the clothes are ill fitting, bland, dark and very dated. These are supposed to be teenagers who enjoy fashion, and yet they look like varying types of soccer moms from 2010.

The series seems to operate on an old and tired vision that women and girls can’t have depth and have adventures and fight monsters while also caring about fashion, a vision that the original show played a big, big role in challenging in the early 2000's. Fashion and costume design sets as much of the tone of a visual medium as the script does; through clothes we can gauge characters’ backgrounds, passions, and personality.

Winx Club has some of the best examples of this in the cartoon sphere - Bloom’s comfortable and bright style, Stella’s glitzy and bold, Musa’s edgy and cool, Aisha’s sporty and fun, Techna’s neon and tech gear inspired, Flora’s earthy and romantic, they all work as extensions of each character and serve a narrative purpose. And that’s not even mentioning how insulting it feels that in their quest to make Winx “edgier, darker” and fit for an older audience, the creators of Fate somehow decided that was in opposition to caring about style and fashion. Most “girly” shows, including the Winx Club are just as much adventure action shows as the ones geared towards boys, and it’s emphasis in fashion, friendship and color does not detract from that. The original run of the cartoon deals with war, violence, grief, abusive relationships and even genocide; leaning into those plotlines would not require Fate to erase any integral parts of what made Winx so beloved, and the fact that they did shows that the Netflix team completely missed the point of fashion in the original show, and really, the point of fashion and costume design in the world building of any show.

That, however, is not a mistake K-Pop makes very often; (This might seem like a bit of wild swerve in topic, but stay with me here). Unlike it's western counterpart, the Korean pop scene never lost the emphasis on music videos and how the visual medium can complete and potentialize music and performance; the K-Pop culture is very album and concept oriented in a way that has been all but lost in many other pop circuits, and the music video, styling and set design of a ‘comeback era’ is a key point of excitement among fans.

As such, music videos that follow storylines, connected universes, boundary pushing concepts and visual effects are the norm, rather than the exception, and a list could be made of works that are beautiful examples of what a live action Winx adaptation could look like. In fact, and very smoothly, here is a small list of exactly that!

A Small List of K-Pop Music Videos That Are Better Winx Club Live Actions Than Fate: The Winx Saga

3. Red Velvet - Psycho

If it was a darker and more somber look that Fate wanted, there was a way to make it actually appealing. While it still feels a liiitle too grown up and elegant for Winx, (maybe this author is biased, as a full proponent for the Y2K fun) Psycho makes a very compelling argument for a witchy, mysterious, fairy tale-esque show that could look scrumptious and definitely not boring, or even a gorgeous example of what the witches in Cloud Tower could look like. Black and white, dark green, pastel blue and pops of jewel tones make Psycho's color palette. To add interest to the understated colors, the styling is heavy on textures; We see plenty of stonework, intricate embroidery, tassels, lace on lace on lace, feathers, bows, opera gloves and lots of glitter. All of that is offset by bold, dark makeup, leather accents and eerie cinematography. Needle & Thread, Marchesa Notte and Self Portrait lend their hyper feminine and intricately detailed tulle gowns, juxtaposed with the creepiness of the lyrics and the dark backgrounds; their deep berry and green fairy tale looks are built with pieces from Zara to Nina Ricci to Dolce & Gabbana to Alexander McQueen.

Red Velvet’s more edgy styling for 2018's Bad Boy would also not feel out of place on the Trix.

2. IZ*ONE - Fiesta

IZ*ONE kicked off 2020 with sweet and fun Fiesta. The MV features rooms with mismatched décor that go from retro to space opera, rocky faux landscapes that feel other worldly, and visual effects that would look perfect on the back of a transformation sequence. Mirroring the set design, the girls wear various outfits by sustainable up and coming brand Chopova Lowena. Their signature skirts made with discarded and repurposed fabrics give a cool and interesting twist on a schoolgirl look that would look very sweet for a band of school fairies that occasionally go off to save the world. Also, wouldn't those bedazzled headphones look great on Musa's fairy outfit?

1. Aespa - Black Mamba and Next Level

Aespa is what fans call a monster rookie. With only three music videos under their belt, they still have some of the most visually interesting work in the industry right now. Their concept is very tied in with high tech, featuring even AI avatars of each member, packaged in a glitzy, fantastical and futuristic aesthetic, candy pop meets cyberpunk. I think I’ve exhausted ways to say that is exactly what a perfect Winx adaptation should feature.

Their debut smash hit, 2020’s Black Mamba is truly a perfect moodboard for live action Winx. Wearing a sequined and colorful mix and match of Dollskill, Gucci, Didu and Balenciaga to a backdrop that features some alien fairy forest realness, a pyschedelic fever dream, rooms straight out of a Y2K catalog or donning lime green and black techwear inside a metro fighting the "black mamba", Aespa look through and through the part of fashion loving fairies who save the world together, while looking fierce, stylish and, most importantly, interesting.

The styling and the sets jump seamlessly from more casual colorful fits with blouses, shirts and baggy pants to barren, darkly lit backgrounds and fringe-and-glitter heavy pieces necessary to fight giant snakes, in a way so fitting to transformation outfits for magical girls we could cry.

In their third MV, 2021's Next Level, the cyber in their concept is taken up a notch (get it. because Next Level-), set to a futuristic urbanscape intersped with a planet made of crystals and the ocasional alien fauna popping up again. We get treated to Monse, The 2nd Skin Co., Johanna Ortiz and The Attico styled to fairy princess standards, sporty sky racers and a white and sequined group styling that is top ten fairy busy saving the world uniform material, or maybe even a specialist worthy getup.

This particular look from Ningning is so Techna that it almost feels as if it's mocking Netflix.

And doesn’t this Karina trapped inside the "black mamba" in Alexander McQueen feel like a perfect Dark Bloom moment?

These are only a few examples of interesting and creative designs that are in line with what a live action Winx Club should have given us. There are so many more I could list, even among other TV Shows, like Sex Education and even polemic dark Euphoria, that know how to have fun with style and design without losing the depth of their stories. In the end, it's hard to justify why Fate creators even wanted to make an adaptation that didn't even try to capture the heart of its source material, and all we can do is watch one more "Restyling Fate: The Winx Saga" video on Youtube whilst mildly dreading season 2.

[songofclarity]

Seeing several well-meaning fans point out how Jiang Cheng going into seclusion is rather positive because seclusion is where you cultivate to immortality and strengthen your inner self and find peace, etc., is amusingly similar to that tumblr thread about the children's hospital and color theory.

In color theory, the color red traditionally represents strength and passion. Red does appear to have more positive meanings than negatives ones. Red is a fine color choice for interior decorating!

But when you see the actual paint job, the method in which the children's hospital used that red paint makes it look like someone dragged a dead body all across the floor and left a bloody trail behind.

So yes, seclusion can be a good and empowering thing in theory! But that is not really how the donghua used it to conclude Jiang Cheng's story.

The donghua is an adaption and it had the original source material right in front of it that the donghua team opted to ignore. We do, in fact, know exactly what Jiang Cheng did after the core reveal in the novel:

1. He ran off in a crazed panic to confirm what Wen Ning said was true by asking anyone he could find to unsheathe Suibian. Jiang Cheng's first response was ACTION and to verify. And it was a very public action at that as even Jin Guangyao, already making his escape, had heard about this within a day, which is faster than most people heard about Jin Guangyao's death.

2. When it was reported that Jin Ling had run off from Lotus Pier, Jiang Cheng immediately dropped everything to go and find him. Jin Ling was a PRIORITY over Jiang Cheng's own internal crisis.

So the donghua was grossly unfaithful to Jiang Cheng's characterization by having him behave so passively and, essentially, putting himself before Jin Ling by picking seclusion. No one ever puts Jiang Cheng first, least of all Jiang Cheng, which is why the golden core reveal is as painful as it is healing. ("Congratulations! Your brother loves you!")

The last time we see Jiang Cheng is no longer him calmly and almost peacefully leaving for home with Jin Ling at his side, per the novel and CQL, but rather him crying all alone on a dock of Lotus Pier as he is left behind (again). A few days later, people are just starting to hear that Jin Guangyao is dead, the Lanling Jin Sect have some rough times ahead, Jiang Cheng has gone into seclusion over something, and Lan Xichen will need some time to recover. Jiang Cheng's fate has been grouped with all the tragedies and misfortunes, which are set in opposition to Nie Huaisang's impressive change. There is nothing empowering or peaceful about this transition because the storytelling here is that Jiang Cheng has not recovered from the golden core reveal and all its implications.

More so, Jin Ling's distressed response also suggests that Jiang Cheng's actions do not come from a positive place.

Yes, the clarity bell is a wonderful and meaningful object! It is a fine gift for Jiang Cheng's nephew!

But that is NOT how the the donghua used it! Jiang Cheng's gift appears to hurt Jin Ling, who immediately runs away with his arm over his eyes as if he was crying.

For all we know, that might be Jiang Cheng's personal clarity bell and he has sent it to Jin Ling because the bell has proved useless to him. This would suggest the seclusion is meant to be more of a permanent one.

Jin Ling has thus not only lost his parents, but both of his uncles as parental figures.

As if Jiang Cheng would ever do that to him.

But the donghua really went above and beyond to insult and punish Jiang Cheng in every possible way and I hate that this doesn't even cover half of the damage.

[camcorderrevival]

i still havent watched any of the mike flanagan movies but ive heard a lot of stuff about how hes doing a bad job at adapting classics... as someone who isnt familiar with the source material, what do u think is the biggest issue with his adaptations?

I've only watched his adaptation of THoHH so it's a sort of limited viewpoint.

But my big issue with that production, and others big issue from what I've seen, is that it's so far removed from the source material that there's no point in calling it an adaptation. It essentially just takes a few character names and the name of the house and then proceeds to tell a completely different story. I wouldn't even call it fanfic-adjacent because he doesn't appear to like the book enough to do it justice.

Everything that makes Hill House horror, everything that makes it a brilliant novel is stripped back and thrown away. The novel sort of hinges on the unanswered, some of the closing lines are: "In the unending, crashing second before the car hurled into the tree she thought clearly, Why am I doing this? Why am I doing this? Why don’t they stop me?" And that's where I find the horror comes from, there's no closure for the characters, Nell dies and that's it, they go home with no mention of what they saw.

The supernatural in Jackson's novel also goes unanswered. Most events are just suggested, with no clear explanation being given to them. Whether what happens is due to ghosts or something else is largely up for debate. Flanagan's adaptation just stamps in some ghosts and calls it a day. There's little to no engagement with the novel's use of the unknown.

Flanagan's adaptation shies away from so many of the novel's key aspects, so alongside ditching most of plot, he also disregards everything impactful about Jackson's writing.

Jackson's novel asks the question: what's wrong with Nell?, and then proceeds to leave it up in the air, no one knows whats wrong with Nell, whether she's a victim of torment or possession or whether she's just ill, why she's doing this, the characters don't find out. Flanagan essentially answers: ghosts. And then proceeds to give a family (that doesn't exist in the book) closure that, for me, detracts from the horror of the events they go through.

Also, on that note about the family, the weird change in dynamic does him no favours in my eyes, the book centres around a group of strangers, they build their relationships over the story's course, pushed together by the happenings within the house. Nell and Theodora particularly suffer in the sense that their relationship in the book can be read as one of mutual attraction. Again from the closing scenes of the book "I thought you weren’t going to say good-by to me,” she said. “Oh, Nellie, my Nell—be happy; please be happy. Don’t really forget me; someday things really will be all right again, and you’ll write me letters and I’ll answer and we’ll visit each other and we’ll have fun talking over the crazy things we did and saw and heard in Hill House—oh, Nellie! I thought you weren’t going to say good-by to me.”

This is a kind of messy explanation but what I'm saying is that they're not really adaptations, and framing them as such is almost insulting to the source materials. I've seen other peoples critiques that centre more on technical aspects but I don't study film so I'm sort of limited in that aspect.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Dimitrescu Daughter HCs

I thought this would only take a few minutes. I was so, so very wrong. Anyway, some of these are somewhat exclusive to my fic (Serenade), but they’ll make sense even if you haven’t read that.

Daniela:

Others have already talked about how Daniela reads a ton of romance novels, so I’m not really going to go into that very much, just saying that I agree 100%, I mean c’mon, it’s practically canon.

While she mainly sources books from her family’s library, there are a few she’s “acquired” over the years that she keeps locked away in her room. These tend to be a bit, ahem, steamier than her mother would approve of/let her read under normal circumstances.

How did she get these? Well, there has to be someone who delivers goods to Castle Dimitrescu (Duke, perhaps?), seeing as the Maidens need, like, actual food to survive. Sometimes Daniela manages to convince them to order books for her, usually just asking for books by authors she likes, or ones she’s heard maidens whispering about.

No, the delivery person does not read the book’s summaries or reviews, they have a feeling (based on titles and covers alone) that they don’t want to know.

As for her experiences with actual romance… she’s so very, very excited about it, all the time. Wants to kiss every cute Maiden she sees, and sometimes daydreams about a beautiful woman fleeing from lycans who comes to the castle for shelter, clinging to Dani for warmth and protection, and it’s love at first sight, and they kiss and kiss and right as it gets to the good part-! Someone interrupts her daydream (usually Cassandra).

However, her actual experiences are fairly limited. Sure, she has kissed Maidens, but she tends to get over excited. Like in Serenade, she starts to rush the process, and usually ends up draining her “lover” aka victim before anything more intimate happens.

She’s definitely done sexual things, just, well, not with other people. Private things. Usually during or after reading one of her special books. You get the picture.

Because of this, and her aforementioned love of romance novels, Daniela has become somewhat obsessed with the idea of her first time. She wants everything to be perfect. The setting, the timing, who she’s with… Hence her reaction in chapter 3 of Serenade. It’s not that she didn’t want to continue, just that the circumstances didn’t feel right. She’s very particular!

Favorite Music Genre: Girl goes wild for an emotional, gut-wrenching love/power ballad. The type to lie in bed and cry while listening to Hozier or Lorde (not that she can hear either of them, considering her limited music options). Doesn’t admit it, though, and mostly listens to indie pop when other people can hear. That and whatever the Maiden plays on piano ;)

Okay it feels weird to joke about her loving music I wrote, anywayyyy

Hobbies: Other than reading there’s not too much I can see her doing, really. She’d be sure to get into anything that her s/o enjoys, though, even if it’s something difficult or time-consuming. Writing is something she’d love, but it’s difficult for her to keep her focus on just one project at a time. Ideally she’d write short stories, romantic ones obvs, and have someone else proofread/edit them. For the most part she’d write within fantasy and historical setting (seeing as she’s got experience in both of those departments).

ADHD, BABY. Bigtime, seriously. Maybe this is just my adhd ass projecting, but I can’t not see her as having it. For her it mainly manifests with hyper-focusing/difficulty staying on task. It’s like a switch with those on either end, flipping back and forth every once in a while. She can spend six hours reading two different books in one sitting, but if someone just breathes too loudly it disrupts her completely. Because of this she’s somewhat prone to abandoning projects. It’s a sore subject for her, and her sisters are aware, normally only bringing it up if they’re really angry with her.

Opinions on the four lords: Thinks Heisenberg is a tool (pun intended), also thinks that he secretly reads super erotic novels. She doesn’t have any proof, though, and would never say anything about it out loud. Just makes fun of him in her head. Doesn’t actually judge him for what she thinks he reads, just judges his personality and the “need he feels to hide his secret”. Loves Donna, and low-key thinks she’s attractive. Daniela mostly bases that off the portrait she’s seen, but, like many fans, also thinks the hands are nice. The puppets don’t bother her, though she also doesn’t really care about them, other than thinking that Donna interacting with them is cute.

Opinions continued: Moreau is… uh… fish boy. Daniela thinks he’s weird, kinda gross, and hardly considers him a “real” lord. Poor boy :(  At least she doesn’t actively make fun of him?... Even if that’s only because she kinda forgets about him most of the time. As for Lady Dimitrescu, well, obviously Daniela loves her mom. The whole family is very close, and as the “youngest”, Daniela gets a lot of attention. Sometimes she thinks her mother is too strict, but at the end of the day there’s no love lost.

Bela:

Cleans up after her sisters a lot, but still nowhere near as much as any of the Maidens do. Often agrees to help with messes in exchange for blackmail material. “Oh, Daniela, what a shame you broke mother’s favorite dish… I could help, but you owe me one.” At the end of the day, though, there’s plenty she would slide.

Being the “oldest”, she’s expected to behave the best, and often feels more restricted than her sisters. Being an example is hard! Occasionally she’ll have the impulse to rebel, but this usually only manifests in scenarios like the one mentioned above, aka she’ll simply be more lenient of her siblings for a bit.

Overall far less sadistic than her sisters. Cares more about the quality of pain then the amount of it. Only ever goes overboard if someone full out threatens or hurts her family. Insults towards them still earn her ire, and will get her to punish someone, but it’s not enough to make her resort to torture. Usually.

Gets the most restless out of the three. As cool (and large) as the castle is, it’s all she’s ever really known. If not for her weakness to cold, she’d go out on hikes a lot. Nature interests her, fascinates her, but she’d be a little less fond of most of it in person. Like, oh, waterfalls sound so cool, followed by a hundred complaints about the noise. Thinks deer are the cutest shit ever (second only to humans, maybe).

Unlike Daniela (though that HC is relevant almost exclusively to Serenade), Bela has actually slept with a Maiden before. She doesn’t really care for them enough to consider it a relationship, instead admiring them for their entertainment value. Definitely could fall for a Maiden, simply hasn’t yet. Of the three I feel like she takes the longest to fall in love, and even longer to actually act on her feelings. Sometimes resents her siblings because they unknowingly “claimed” a Maiden that she was starting to be interested in. However, she fully acknowledges that she should have said something if she didn’t want to lose the girl, considering the situation they live in.

Favorite music genre: Classical, full orchestra style, with a soft spot for swing/jazz. Enjoys having music play softly while she reads, and is very particular about the volume. Absolutely would argue with her sisters if they tried to change the music or turn it up.

Hobbies: Reading, duh. Less interested in romance than Daniela by a considerable amount. For the most part she reads non-fiction books, enjoying learning about history and the sciences. Astronomy is at the top of her favorites list, followed by biology, then obscure (and often bloody) pieces of history. Niche=perfect. Also enjoys music, even if she had to rely mostly on self-teaching books. Knows the basics of piano, but doesn’t actively play, much preferring both the violin and harp. Most of the time she’ll only play if she knows her sisters won’t bother her, or if her mother asks her to.

Opinions on the four lords: Admires Heisenberg’s work/his edgenuity, but thinks the actual man is a temperamental child… who smells like wet dog. He’s only been at Castle Dimitrescu a couple times (per Mother Miranda’s request), and both times Bela moved to the other side of the house so she wouldn’t have to acknowledge his existence. While she would never admit it, she’s low-key creeped out by Donna’s dolls, and really only tolerates Angie. However, she would never act on her nerves, out of consideration for Donna’s feelings. She knows that her mother gets along well with the dollmaker, and keeps this at the forefront of her mind.

Opinions continued: “Moreau who? Oh, the fish guy? He’s still alive?... Good for him.” Wants to make Lady Dimitrescu proud, but not as desperately as Cassandra. Unknowingly mimics a lot of her mother’s little habits and ticks, and would be quietly embarrassed if someone pointed it out to her. As mentioned previously, she feels like she has to be an example for the others, and somewhat resents the pressure this puts on her. On the other hand, she does enjoy being “responsible for” (read: in charge of) her sisters. Additionally, she is the most likely to get away with lying to Alcina, though she does not often do so. This isn’t because she’s the most manipulative (that’s Cass), or the best liar (that’s Dani, if she’s trying), but simply because Alcina doesn’t think her oldest daughter would lie. Even if she doubts something Bela says, she’ll usually give her the benefit of the doubt… as long as it doesn’t happen very often.

Cassandra:

Sleeps the most of the three, if only because she’s the most active of them. Not as fast as the others while in swarm mode, but the fastest on foot, partially because she’s more likely to simply walk places. She knows the sound of feet on the floor scares the Maidens, and she drinks their fear with utter pleasure. Additionally she claims that it just feels nice to “stretch her legs”. But she will not hesitate to enter swarm mode when chasing someone. As fun as it is to smell their fear, she can get impatient, wanting to get close and personal to her target.

Tends to hide most of her feelings, sometimes even opting to “convert” them into anger. In other words, think of her emotional state as an ever-filling bottle of water. As things happen, she feels emotions, and the rate at which water pours into the bottle increases. Ideally if the water level started getting too high, she would address whatever is increasing the flow of water. Instead of that, she often uses anger, which is equivalent to shaking the bottle a bit and letting water messily spill out of it. Doesn’t address the actual problem, but let’s her release some pressure/free up some room.

Goes through Maidens faster than her siblings (yes, even Daniela “draining you of blood is romantic” Dimitrescu). Not all of them even die in the basement, sometimes what was supposed to be a “warning” turns into “oh shit the blood won’t stop coming out, this is how I die, in this accursed castle, no friends or family to mourn me, just the painful knowledge that I will not be the last, I will die for no cause, no glory, just the bitter whims of a blood-soaked mistress” or something along those lines.

While more likely to get attached to someone than Bela, Cassandra isn’t one to do much about it. She might flirt, might even try to kiss (or, uh, kiss while also not wearing clothes wink wink), but she won’t (usually) claim someone as her own, or protest if one of her sisters wants to have some fun with them (even if it’s the bloody kind of fun). Technically gets over breakups and “breakups” (i.e. death) easier than either of her sisters. To be fully accurate, Daniela still goes through lovers faster, but she also remembers them and cares for them for longer post-breakup.

Somewhat of a blood kink. Like, more than vampires automatically have. In intimate settings she cares more about the quantity of blood and what she can do with it (loves bloodstains) than what causes the bloodshed.

Favorite music genre: Rock ‘n roll. Leans towards older stuff, as well as heavier songs. Soft spot for symphonic metal, but doesn’t admit it out of the fear that some might consider it a “weaker form” of the genre. Almost exclusively listens to bands that have female vocalists, and gets crushes on them more than she’d ever admit.

Hobbies: Art! Painting, mostly, but dabbles in sculpture from time to time. It’s been too long since I took an art class for me to suggest a style for her paintings, but I imagine her sculptures would be somewhat abstract. Her art would revolve around emotion, the stronger and rawer the better, with viewers often being left uncomfortable. While Alcina buys plenty of art supplies for her, Cassandra is fond of improvising, especially by creating her own “tools” (of questionable efficiency) out of items she has laying around. She is absolutely the one who took her mother’s lipstick. If you don’t know what that means, don’t worry, it’s just mentioned in one of the RE8 notes that Lady Dimitrescu’s valuable lipstick is missing.

Opinions on the four lords: Tolerates Heisenberg more than the rest of her family by a considerable amount. She’s seen glimpses of his work, his steampunk-adjacent style, and actually kind of digs it. While Bela cares more about the science behind his work, Cassandra just digs the aesthetic. Sometimes for her art she also needs things she can’t get from the castle, and are too obscure to get from a merchant, so she trades tools/ideas with Heisenberg in exchange for him making something for her. “Can you make a battery but whenever it’s in use it makes a horrible screaming sound?” “Yes. PS I hate your mother and Miranda.” “I didn’t fucking ask.”

Opinions continued: Doesn’t really care much about Donna, but acknowledges her as a fellow artist, and would be willing to consult her if she talked more (and talked without Angie). Cassandra hasn’t met Moreau, thankfully (he would cry). Knows about him from her sister/mother, and as a result doesn’t care about him. Internally whenever someone mentions him, she pictures, like, a Goldfish Cracker (the snack that smiles back) with legs except also it’s green and moldy.

Opinions cont.: Loves her mother so much. Determined to please her, to make her proud, but often left feeling less loved than her sisters. This strains her relationship with her family, not that she’d ever voice her feelings and talk through the issue. Let’s be real, Alcina would probably feel guilty for not realizing how Cass felt. Nonetheless, Cassandra probably spends the most time with her mother, often offering to assist her with tasks, or trying to get her to appreciate her art.

[my-writings-and-musings]

Can I please have a short story of the prompt of the human reader being used as a sheild, and the human has a communicator allowing the bots to trace their signal? And can I please have ratchet, tailgate, cyclones, and drift for this?

I have headcannons for now because I'm spread really thin lately, but I hope you like it! Also I love this prompt in particular because every bot on the ship needs to be told how special and wonderful they are, and what better way to show them than by shouting their praises at an enemy with ample swearing?

Part One: Here!

Part Two: You're Here!

Ratchet

·Your relationship to the medic had allowed some of the restraint he needed for his high stress job to rub off on you, but that's also true of his testiness, so when you reach your breaking point it's quite the sight. The bot that kidnapped you for a ransom learns the loud way just how passionately you adore your grumpy bot when they crack another joke about Ratchet's age and you simply lose it. Held back by your chains, you crack that the bot who kidnapped you couldn't accomplish what Ratchet has if they had a billion years to do so, and what right do they have to insult when they look the way they do? "Call him old all you want, he looks better now than you ever have and ever will!"

·Perhaps it's the fact that the tiny human just insulted their appearance of all things, but the bot is frozen at the communicator, and somehow that makes you angrier. It's clearer to you now than ever before why Ratchet hurls wrenches at the bots that annoy him; nothing would be more satisfying than the "thunk" of a well aimed projectile at this jerk's head. As it stands you're willing to settle for using your words as the only weapons you have. Laughing bitterly, you ask your captor if they're only able to win an argument with bots that can't fight back, which would explain why they need you as a shield AND the corpses they keep as company. The last dig actually gets them moving towards you with a threat, but when they refer to Ratchet as your "rusty old paramour" you get a renewed burst of rage and go off once more.

·"Are you seriously trying to insult Ratchet of all bots?! Do you have any idea what he's capable of?! How many lives he's saved?! What have you accomplished lately, huh?! Besides EXTORTION?!" Feeling a tad bit flushed, it's impossible not to go all out in your tirade, especially because it feels so darn good after suffering in silence for so long. It doesn't hurt that you have so much material to work with either. This raging jerk is living in a corpse filled lair and kidnapping humans to ransom them off for cash, and they're going after one of the greatest medics the Autobots ever had? Cutting them down to size should be classified as doing the universe a favor! If you weren't so incredibly frustrated, and dangling from chains, you might have found this enjoyable.

·"Seriously! Ratchet does more good for the universe in a week than you could do in a lifetime! Plus, you think age is holding him back?! The bot walks right off the battlefield after carving up bad guys like you, only to waltz into the medibay to patch up everyone else, on a daily basis!" Though not impressed, it does appear that your captor is rethinking some things, and perhaps actually realizing they've made a pretty formidable enemy. Had that not been such a flagrantly obvious fact you'd have been satisfied. Instead you just keep going, your intense love for your docbot mingling with your frustration to pour forth in a never-ending stream of loving threats. Only a total power outage cuts off a tangent about how Ratchet's age has not impacted his ability or endurance in "other areas" of your relationship either...

·The darkness is broken by flashing lights and the crackle of energy weapons firing all around, and you just manage to catch some familiar colors flashing through the dark before a very welcome red and white frame swoops in to carefully slice you out of the chains with a laser scalpel. There's just enough time to catch a smile overflowing with emotion before you're taken into gentle hands, and as Ratchet takes you back to the ship you get a glimpse of your very roughed up kidnapper being cuffed by the remaining crew. Your partner takes you straight to the medical bay, fussing over you all the way and asking a thousand questions about your wellbeing, but without any of his usual gruffness as he does so. In fact, he's probably the softest you've ever seen him. The smile never once leaves his face as he insists on getting you fed and rested and to bed where he pulls the covers over you himself.

·In the aftermath he almost seems to melt in your presence, losing most of his grumpy persona every time he's with you no matter how long or difficult a day he's had. Though you obviously don't mind, a couple bots let you know that when you were kidnapped he was the closest to losing control anyone had ever seen him. He'd been shouting and cursing until you had interrupted the latest communication with your captor, at which point he'd been so shocked others had needed to rush in and take advantage of the prolonged signal. Evidently, hearing you defend him as you did had rocked his world in the best possible way. Between working a stressful and often thankless profession, and not ever hearing you shout in such a way before, he's been touched to learn he could be loved by someone who appreciates him as you do. It's enough to keep even the worst of grumpy days from affecting him.

Tailgate

·Truth be told, your greatest concern when you were kidnapped was for your tiny SO, as his propensity for panic could result in some very unpleasant anxiety attacks while he and the others try to rescue you. That worry on his behalf turned to fury when your kidnapper refused to stop mocking the little bot for everything from his size to his age and even for supposedly choosing an organic solely to be taller than someone. It's enough to make you see red, and your limit is quickly reached as a result of the cowardly bullying. Your explosive bout of rage is a scream of frustration that quickly morphs into an unstoppable tirade that pulls no punches. Has this big jerk been planning this for any length of time you ask, because if so, you know a couple of sparklings that could think of more mature insults!

·"Really?! You make fun of bots for being short?! He's also blue, you want to pick on him for something arbitrary, why limit yourself?!" You know it's not the smoothest insult, but darn it all, you can't bring yourself to think straight with all this rage. This bot needs to hear what an absolute creep and bully they are, because seriously who gloats like a real life cartoon villain? When they leave the communicator and try to get in your face you're only further incensed, channeling your tiny partner's courage as you wish beyond the telling of it you could punch the jerk into silence. "If there's gonna be insults, how about I open the floor to some genuine digs? Because your ugly mug is a GOLDMINE of material, okay?! Seriously, does Unicron ask YOU for beauty tips?!"

·There's sputtering in response, which you just take as a go ahead to tear them apart, because at this point you're not sure if you can really stop. After all, record shattering hideous face aside, what does this bot actually have to offer? Tailgate has saved millions! Faced with multiple varieties of death, he took out the guy hellbent on committing species wide genocide, and he doesn't even brag about it! You rub that in your captors face with all the pride you have for your partner spurring you on, hoping that you get a chance to tell Tailgate what a source of inspiration he was in these moments. At the very least you'll have to tell him how your captor froze at the enraged shouting. "Plus, Tailgate has actual friends! People LIKE him, unlike you, who I'm guessing doesn't entertain often based on the corpses you leave lying around!"

·A last ditch attempt to shut you up with a few lame threats just gets you laughing, in part because you can't believe this bot ever thought they were going to succeed at this. "You didn't even bother to check up on who you're making an enemy of, did you? I doubt it, because if you did, you'd know Tailgate has made paperweights out of bots much tougher than you!" Perhaps it's a little macabre, but it's endlessly satisfying to see your captor flinch as you describe what an absolute powerhouse your partner is, particularly how he uses his small size to levy his strength in the most destructive ways possible. It's delightful enough that, as you begin to brag about the benefits of his size relative to yours and his strength working together in more intimate settings, only something like an earthquake stops you.

·Chained as you are, there's no way to get a clear look at your captor as they attempt to flee, but thankfully the ground stills just in time to let you see the cavalry arrive. Lost Light bots pour in to stop the automated defenses from doing much at all, and in a brilliant blue and white blur your kidnapper is punched full to unconsciousness by what might as well have been a meteorite. It's only when said force of nature runs to free you and a tearful blue visor meets your eyes that you recognize Tailgate. The minibot gets you down in a hurry and embraces you in as tight a hug as is safe, talking a mile a minute about his worries and how sorry he is you had to go through all this. After assuring him he doesn't have to beat up your captor any further, you let him carry you back to the ship, getting nuzzled all the while.

·In between far more frequent cuddle sessions from the absolutely enamored Tailgate, you get pulled aside by a couple bots who just want to let you know what an impact your brave speech had on the minibot. While inconsolable during your kidnapping, to the point of swapping between rage and tears every few minutes, he'd been visibly awed once he heard you go off in his defense. That makes you understand everything far more clearly; this bot has been unsure of his self worth for so long, so hearing you face down a much larger foe because you love him so much that their taunting him drove you to frenzy... Knowing he's loved like that changed his entire worldview. You can see it in his visor every time he looks at you, and feel it in every buzzing hug, how grateful he is to have found someone who loves him.

Cyclonus

·Dating a bot capable of triggering enemy surrender with a glance requires a strong will, mostly to endure the endless questions from bots confused as to how you got Cyclonus to ask you out, but today you find yourself facing a whole new level of irritation. Though the bot that kidnapped you is obviously no match for your towering partner, they still mock the big mech through radio like they're some kind of badass, taunting him for debasing himself and growing soft by dating a fleshy. Regardless of how hard Cyclonus has worked to open up to you, hearing the personal jabs makes something within snap and go nuclear, resulting in a war cry your partner would be proud of as you rattle your chains for emphasis.

·"Can you just CAN IT with the insults?! We all know that if this fleshy wasn't here as your shield, you'd be fleeing to the other end of the galaxy!" You waste no time getting right to the heart of what's so infuriating about your captor; their spineless and cowardly nature is so obvious beneath the sneering mockery it makes you literally sick. Seeing how completely they freeze at your jab just proves your point in your mind. What, were they just expecting you to be quiet forever after dealing with THEM for the past few hours? Was the idea of resistance that surprising to them?! The calm maturity you picked up from Cyclonus is matched only by the capacity for righteous fury learned from the same source, and it's the latter that breaks out in glorious fashion.

·"Oh, what, nothing to say? No moronic insults for someone who can actually talk back? Do you need your debate opponents to be silent so you can think of a rebuttal?!" Your almost sarcastic jab actually earns you a demand to be silent, but it's so lacking in authority you can only laugh, despite not feeling any less furious with the situation. It's bad enough to be kidnapped and chained up, but by someone this incompetent? Being a tiny fraction of their size doesn't make you feel any less embarrassed for having been caught by them. It's enough frustration to make you snap again when they start coming in close, especially as another insult is levied at Cyclonus for having chosen a human so unpleasant due to his age and miserable attitude. The words are little more than kerosene on your already burning anger.

·"Do you really think you get to accuse Cyclonus of having a miserable attitude, you inept excuse for a kidnapper?! I'd rather have a conversation with these corpses than you! Not to mention, Cyclonus isn't limited to insulting people whenever he talks, unlike you!" The tirade is perhaps nonsensical with how passionately you begin to praise your partner's command of verse, but you're far too lost in your genuine adoration to care, especially as you begin to relay how wonderfully enticing his singing is to you. Every time your captor tries to command silence you just jump to yet another feature that makes your heart flutter, riding on the high of how incredibly good it feels to rub it all in their flustered face as you go. An attempt at describing his passionate grasp of verse around specific topics is stopped only by a door flying off its hinges in a burst of shattered metal.

·Security forces do nothing as a hulking purple figure enters through the smoke of considerable destruction, and your captor is left paralyzed with fear as they're hefted up by a clawed hand, one you're so relieved to see you can't help calling out their name. Cyclonus is content to toss the criminal to the rest of the crew as they arrive, and actually smiles once he beholds you safe. Freeing you of your bonds, he doesn't drop the chains until they're wrapped about your captor for some poetic justice. After that, you're carried to the nearest private spot on the ship and embraced without hesitation, the giant arms that have held you before almost shaking as he whispers how grateful he is to have you back. For an instant he sheds genuine tears when you hug him in return.

·Though the intensity of his emotions isn't as extreme as when he rescued you going forward, the big bot is far more open about his feelings than ever before, even showing them in full view of others. Surprised but not at all displeased, you are however quite thrown for a loop when someone recounts how incredibly worried he was during your kidnapping, in that he had to be convinced not to go after you alone and gouged some unfortunate furniture as he listened to the communications. Yet the moment you started your tirade, he was shocked to a whole new kind of silence. It's obvious that he hadn't even been able to process it at first, but now is fully overwhelmed and grateful for your love as he never was before. Hearing himself defended by someone he adores more than anything changed his perspective of himself, as well as his outlook on life, for how could he not see the beauty of a universe that had given him you?

Drift

·Sort of an interstellar hippy in his own way, Drift has taught you a lot about remaining calm through meditation, saying that a clear mind and control over anger is key to surviving high stress situations. The same philosophy is what he instructed you to use when others mocked his past, as he claims to be used to it and doesn't want anyone angering you on his behalf. This doesn't stop you from simmering in your current situation, dangling from chains as you might be, and admittedly being kidnapped tends to shorten one's fuse. Perhaps that's why you explode so dramatically when your abductor opens up the communication line just to mock your partner by claiming he hardly should be upset by an organic dying, considering his past, and that this current "relationship" is probably just a redemption stunt. That final mistake sets you off on a legendary tirade.

·"Are you KIDDING me?! You want to talk about STUNTS you wannabe kidnapping loser?! Do you have a projection disorder or something?! Because unlike you, Drift doesn't actually have to PROVE anything!" Never in your life have you wished to be the same height as the bots to this degree, granted though it's only because you want to strangle this jerk purely for the satisfaction of throttling them. Drift has worked to be better, and jabs about his past hurt him deeply, despite what he says. What right does this loser have to use that against him? You're so worked up fear isn't in your catalog of emotions when your captor tries to threaten you with physical harm. All you see is an overhyped grifter who got lucky, and you make that abundantly clear.

·"What, are you going to try threatening me, really? Am I supposed to be afraid of bluster now?!" The sight of a tiny organic growing red in the face with rage actually seems to give the bad bot pause, in part because you're so flushed they have to wonder if humans have a secret explosive ability that you're presently charging up. Admittedly you do feel like you might pop, but that's only because it's impossible to unleash all of your anger in a way that's truly satisfying, and you're left with spouting all the very justified insults that spring to mind. One particular thing that galvanizes your anger; how is this jerk pretending they would stand a chance against Drift?! The bot may be a literal ray of sunshine to you, but you're well aware of what he can do to enemies, and you doubt your kidnapper is in the dark about your paramour's combat prowess.

·"Would you be playing the big tough bot if he were anywhere near here?! Or if you didn't have me as a shield?! Because I doubt you'd last a moment in a one on one!" You shout, your tone of vitriol somewhat humorous considering that the point is a very valid one. While not afraid of Drift in the slightest, you know being on his bad side can be fatal in impressively short order. Perhaps that's why his soft approach to your relationship is even better. It's so special to you that in your current state you can't help but brag aggressively, going on about what a wonderful bot he is and that this loser could never hope to best him in combat or personality. Seeing them rethink it all just adds fuel to your fire, but before you can really get going on how Drift's gentle mannerisms extend to the bedroom you're interrupted by a cacophony of unfathomable origin.

·One of the entrances to the room you're in is sliced open by what you swear has to be ten swords at once, but as soon as it's down and the wielder charges in, you see only two held by a very angry looking Drift. Though accompanied by ample backup, he's an army of one as he reduces the security to pieces and almost dices up your captor. Only some obviously difficult self control lets him immobilize the bot instead. Not wasting time, your partner leaves the bad guy for the others to hurry to your side, his expression beaming with unmatched happiness and relief as he cuts you free and catches you in cupped hands. Shameless kisses and a million questions about whether or not you're hurt are your prelude to an open embrace. Never minding public affection in the past, he's still at a new level all the way back to the ship and in the days that follow.

·It's impossible not to go an hour without a loving nuzzle against your forehead, and whenever you aren't looking Drift is in the corner of your eye with an absolutely lovestruck expression on his sweet face, to the point you halfway imagine there could be hearts in his optics. Rodimus himself tells you in confidence that the unshakable ninjabot was barely able to keep himself steady after your kidnapping, obviously holding back a hurricane of pain and grief within his spark, but that changed in a flash as soon as he heard you. Accustomed to being derided, he'd been unprepared for such a passionate defense from anyone. Hearing you shout his praises had nearly driven him to tears. The pain of his past and the exclusion he faces for it has worn him down, to the point he often believes himself to be irredeemable, but you've made him have hope for himself for the first time in eons. Your love makes him see what he's done right, and from now on, he fully intends to give you and himself more to be proud of every day.

Support me here if you like my writing! Every donation helps me secure more time to create, and the same goes for commissions, which are always available!

[therabine]

In case you were wondering why wordbuilding for Ravka feels so random

After going down the rabbit hole in my search for answers I've stumbled across this conversation on goodreads dated back to the November of 2013, where Leigh Bardugo replied to some reasonable criticism about her 'cultural inspiration"- https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/1533856-has-bardugo-talked-about-the-russian-inconsistencies This conversation is quite long and miss Leigh gave about three replies to various questions from people that were deeply bothered by the very surface level research she did on the Russian cilture. Here are the major highlights, plus the other things I've found while goodling: 1) As far as I've understood - neither she nor her publishers expected the first book to blow up like this. So even though there was obvoiusy a lack of proper research and some mistakes variying from minor to insulting, now that she's an esteemed author Leigh claims all of it to be deliberate choices adding that "deliberate choices aren't necessarily good ones". She also tries to lift the responsibility off her shoulders, mentioning that her work "was reviewed not just by my editor, but by copy editors, proofreaders, multiple foreign editors, and foreign copy editors". Not a single word about actual Russian-speaking person/expert reviweing the text or helping her out with creating the Ravkan language though. The only person she's ever credited as the one who helped her out with creating Ravkan is Erdene Ukhaasai from Mongolia that she's been friends on Facebook at the time (source on this one - https://ageofsteam.wordpress.com/2012/04/25/genre-friction-what-is-tsarpunk-by-leigh-bardugo/ ). The Facebook page under this name currently doesn't exist and the only results that Google shows on this person are the mentions that Leigh Bardugo gave in her interview, so unfortunately I couldn't reach out for clarification on this topic. Still, it's highly unlikey that someone with zero publications under their name would be a proffesional linguist and therefore qualified for such a task. 2) Within your secondary world, unless you are writing satire, things should make internal sense. That world could not arize independently of its context. The problem with the Bardugo's Ravka is that it's based on Russian Empire alone, yet she claims that "it's only Russian inspired" without acknowledging that most people that are not familiar with the culture will take it in as authentic. She takes the words and objects out of the context, misgenders names and last names and creates new 'russian-sounding" words without understanding how the grammar works. Which is a shame, given how flexible Russian language is - the possibility for the word-building is endless and with the right guidance she truly could make some unique and meaningful terms specifically for the Ravka. Also on the alcoholic kvas issue - Leigh proudly claims this as a solution to be a vodka "substitute", because vodka would be too on the nose and too common (more on the matter here -https://www.leighbardugo.com/grishaverse/the-archives/tongue-twister/). What didn't cross her mind is that instead of turning a non-alcoholic drink into strong booze for "wordbuilding" it would be much better to use less known drinks whic do contain alcohol - braga, samogon, nalivka - just to name a few.

3) To elaborate on some of the specific issues with names and last names: Leigh doesn't seem to understand how gendered surnames work in Russian. That's why we get stuff like Alina Starkov (when it's supposed to be Starkova, because she's a woman) and Alexander Morozova (Morozov would be a correct form) etc. This system is never consistent - Mal Oretsev gets to have a male surname, but so does Genya Safin and Zoya Nazyalensky has a weird non-gendered kind of in between last name (very much in fashion of Natasha Romanoff, who would be called Natalia Romanova in Russian). Also must mention Ana Kuya - poor woman's name literally sounds like "why the f*ck" in Russian, that's about just as bad as naming your Asian character Whata Phuck. Again - none of this nonsense would happen if someone bothered to find a Russian-speaking person to read the text. Other Russian words she tries to throw in seem to be the result of a bad Google Translate, rather than a conscious choice: for example the word otkazats'ya that she uses to describe non-grishas is actually a verb that translates as "to refuse". The noun with the meaning of "the refused one" would be otkaznik or otkazniki for a plural form. Same with sobachka ("small dog") - the context from the book suggests this nickname to be an insulting one, so the word we're really looking for would be shchenok ("puppy") or shavka ("mongrel", "cur"). The list of those examples, honestly, goes on and on.

4) Leigh does mention that she "can acknowledge that the choices I made in building the language and culture of Ravka came from a place of insularity and a type of privilege". However she's more keen to talk about how she has "certainly encountered critics, but I've also had Russian fans"...Which to me sounds about just as bad as stating "I do have *insert a minority racial group* friends and they say that me doing *insert a dubious act* is fine". The problem is that Russian culture has been demonized and overlooked for so long that most people (myself included) tend to praise content creators for including even the most sterytypical "insprations". Just because some people are willing to excuse her voluntary ignorance, doesn't mean that it's okay.

5) No books on Russian culture that she's mentioned as part of the resarch were written by Russian authors. And while reading the SaB it becomes crystal clear that that the major 'cultural inspiration' Leigh got was not from those books, but from the monstrosity that is her tsapunk pinterest board - https://www.pinterest.ru/lbardugo/tsarpunk-inspiration/ . About 80% of the stuff there doesn't even relate to Russian culture and the rest is a mash of modern knockoffs.

To summorize it: Leigh very much knew about the concerns surrounding her "Russian-inspired" Ravka which were respectfully brought to her consideration by her Russian speaking fans back in 2012-2013. She said "I've taken it to heart and it's something that I've tried to be conscious of as I move forward in the series and my other work", apologized and then she did nothing to do better. She marketed Shadow and Bone as "Tsarpunk", fetishisizing Russian culture and using it as a unique setting to uplift a generic "light vs. dark" fantasy plot supported by the bland narrative of the Chosen One. There was an effort and will to make a change for the better, not a single letter has been changed for us. When I think about, I can't really remember anything that would ring as a thoughtful and clever element adapted into the story from Russian culture. If everything is always altered or twisted, if there is nothing true or authentic then should you really call it Russian-inspired? Should you really make profit off it and call this aesthetic tsarpunk?

Leigh Bardugo could have fixed the most jarring problems with the material while doing the adaptation from book to screen, but she chose not to. There was no effort made to include more people of slavic descent as a major part of production team or as background actors. Almost nothing of the production design or clothing was inspired by Russian culture. To elaborate: I'm not even mad. I'm just deeply sad and hurt by the indifference.

Some might argue that this book series was not written for Russians, that it was written for the western audience. But don't they deserve respectfully researched and authentic stories too?

[vol-au-vending-machine]

Battle of the Bitches is very intriguing

By request of @stevenstrange and @jurijurijurious

In which a bitch is required to defend another bitch (not present) from the accusations of a particularly bitchy bitch.

More was at Greenwich when Stephen Gardiner sought him out. The palace was relatively secluded, and the perfect place for discreet talks to discuss marriage between Princess Mary and the French king’s son.

“It has been a long time since you and I have spoken.”

“Indeed,” More agreed, and added in his head so that’s why I’ve been so happy.

“A palace can be such a suffocating place. Let us talk in the garden.”

More smiled. That was a sign that Gardiner was expecting a confrontation and wanted to be away from gossips who spoke Latin. But it was important to always present a united front, so he followed Gardiner out of the hall and down into the knot garden.

“I only wish to ask you some simple questions about Erasmus,” Gardiner began. “So please be so kind as to not bite my head off.”

“Me? I am the most modest, the most lamblike of men.”

Gardiner ignored him. He had seen what happened to Standish. “I simply wonder why Erasmus has taken so long to write against Luther. He starts like a skittish colt at the first sign of an insult to himself, and he squeaks his defence in print weeks later. But Luther has been making mischief for almost ten years, yet Erasmus drags his heels. He only printed a rebuttal last year. Surely, a pious scholar would leap at the chance to defend the Church? Why does he have to be told? Why does he have to be reminded? And how is it that so many of his colleagues have joined with Luther? Why is that; do you think? Surely if he wanted to persuade them away from heresy, he would be able to.”

“Those are indeed simple questions.”

Gardiner’s eyes narrowed, unsure of whether he was being insulted or not. He looked and smelled as though someone had just tried to drown him in a vat of rosewater. “Luther is a little shit but where did that little shit come from?”

“He came from the Devil’s-“

“Apart from there. Do you think he came up with everything himself? Do you not think maybe he could sew himself a pretty cloak with the material Erasmus scattered around? What do you think prompted him? What do you think prompted Tyndale? Whose work was Tyndale translating?”

“They were prompted by demons. That’s all the explanation you need.”

“But why should they choose Erasmus?”

“Why should they choose to cite any of the Church Fathers? If a man looks for his reflection in a pool and finds it, is that the fault of the pool? Should we ban the Church Fathers? No, I shouldn’t have said that; it’ll give you ideas.”

Gardiner scowled. He picked rosehips off a nearby bush and pocketed them for his favourite horse. More thought that Wolsey's secretary would be able to afford his own rosehips rather than help himself to the king's.

“I have ideas enough of my own. I’ve always thought Erasmus’ New Testament a poor piece of work. It was unscholarly, based on too few sources. But now I must ask myself if such work was poor on purpose.”

“If you arrested every scholar who wrote an inferior work of theology, the Sorbonne would be one enormous prison.”

“That’s Erasmus talking.”

More was starting to see why someone might try to drown him in a vat of rosewater.

[monster-on-the-fritz]

『yandere!dream headcanons』

TW for unhealthy relationships and the likes kinda short but its just a small hc thing so shrug

-All things considered, Dream is one of the more difficult yanderes to deal with. Not in a physical way, but in a mental one. It’s just too easy for him to manipulate you into thinking you need him and can’t live without him; it’s almost comical how quickly you cling to his side whenever anyone talks to you. Everyone’s an enemy except him. 

-He makes you think that you need him for any resource, and, when everything first started, you really did. You were isolated from your peers and you did have to rely on him for practically any source of material or human need. Now, though, you’re free to do anything you want. You just don’t because you’ve been conditioned into believing what you WANT is Dream.

-But don’t think you’re on the same level as him now that you’re putty in his hands. 

-He’s above you, plain and simple.

-The masked-man doesn’t hesitate to put you in your place, easily tearing you down with harsh words and insults slung at you like they were gospel. 

-Dream’s already detached from things like morals--he was like this since before he ever got involved with you--so it’s pretty likely that your presence only adds to the dumpster fire that is Dream’s actions. 

-If anyone tried to help you get away from him or return you to your normal self, consider them down a life. If they were on their last life, well... You haven’t seen them since.

-He crafts intricate lies and makes you doubt yourself whenever you think you might be going down the wrong path under his influence. 

-Why does he do this? That’s one of the few (incredibly few) things Dream doesn’t know. He certainly wouldn’t call what he feels towards you love--even if it was, that word just isn’t something he’d ever attach to a feeling he has--so he refers to it as something akin to obsession. 

-Obsessed to what, though, nobody knows. All you can gather is that he’s obsessed with something related to you, and he won’t stop keeping you around until that obsession is done.

[phoebehalliwell]

i don't know if i'm the only one but i've often wondered exactly how hard it was to convince julian mcmahon to stick around for season five. they took his character, a feared powerful half demon and made him into the butt of the joke and the whole joke was basically ha ha look at this lovestruck fool obsessing and suicidal because he's got nothing to live with but can't die. ain't that funny? like how the fuck did the writers sell that to julian is my question

i find the entirety of season five just so goddamn insulting to cole's character. hell the fact that he got possessed by the source and this was treated as him turning evil instead of a shitty situation that got out of hand. like it wasn't bad enough he was villified for something that he wasn't even in control of half the time they couldn't even just vanquish the dude, they dragged it on and ridiculed him. i hate it here

lol. i mean. yeah. i really. like. it's like. like okay we all know cole was a fan favorite right and he & phoebe were really meant to like. be the sex appeal to the show no one else was really filling that role they were charmed's Sexy Couple tm. so like. in a sense i get the notion ab wanting to keep him around. because everyone loves him! he's bad boy! he adds this dangerous edge love balancing on a knife's point stuff like that. so like. that being said. u wanna keep him around. i just like Do Not Get how you opt to keep him around Like That. tbh. as w all things. i am blaming brad kern. i think it all really started to tank s4 (well, with mortal cole, but like) with source cole. that was bad, but i know it was part of the push to have like long form season drama character driven plots conflict between the sisters themselves it just like. sucked ass and balls imo. like i mean the fact they had to do the source as a possession just so they could get demon cole and lover cole,,, i mean it speaks to how stupid it was. the fact that u wanted cole to be a villain So Bad but the only way to do it was like. possession? sign that u should not do that like. like. like. i don't know how we're supposed to feel ab that.

and then. the vanquish. not sticking. i think like. i think they probably had the vague idea that cole having a mortal soul would not be able to be vanquished properly right? like. demons get destroyed into nothingness, but the human part of him lives, so i think they probably knew that was what they were going to do, that's what they sold to jmm and like. we sowed those seeds in the s4 finale w his ghost whispers and materialization. so i think like. they knew they wanted to Not Kill Him because he was such a fan favorite. maybe there was an intention to do a will they won't they variant of phole? and then. of course. there was the whole idea of paige cole, which, as the rumor goes, was meant to kick of in the s5 pilot, but both julian and rose shut it down. but i feel like. assuming that's true (which i 100% do assume that's true absolutely and i'm not endorsing it i don't think it would have been good or well written or whatever but like. 👀. you know?) but yeah. assuming that's true, i feel like that piece really speaks to what their designs for cole were: man meat. he was meant to be their male sex appeal and they weren't going to be picky about the narrative itself as long as he was still kicking.

but like honestly? i mean i shouldn't have to say this it's a given: it's not enough to just put your sexy man in front of a camera and call it a day like imo even a man who is not sexy can be made appealing through the power of the narrative. like, to level with you, i never really ever shipped phole nor found cole attractive at all like ever, but i can see like the fucking support beams you know i can see the infrastructure on which this whole thing can you know take on a life of its own in the earlier seasons because they very consciously put it there!! people shipped it for a reason n not just because they were two people standing next to each other on a tv screen i mean hello almost sinking a dagger in her heart but can't do it sends her away back to her sisters because he can't act out on his evil plan!! that's something!!!! that's so very something and they gave us Nothing they gave us nothing in the later seasons. and still expected it to fly. like. tbh julian was probably just like unwittingly duped like dragged along for the ride s5 which is likely why he was vanquished halfway through because i'd imagine roughly three episode in he went okay! um. what's this? guys? what's this? and then they said cole<3 you know he like knew he had to get the hell outta dodge.

anyways. if i were to resuscitate phole in s5. which like. to level w u. i wouldn’t. because they would need a lot of one-on-one screentime and we already spent so much of s4 splitting up the sisterhood in the name of phole i wouldn’t really want to continue with that per se But. if i were. this ask is getting long it’s under a cut 

something something demon of the week something something realms the point is cole is there when he very much shouldn’t be and like. he and phoebe get knocked into a different plane. so their bodies are fine and at the manor, but their minds are elsewhere and they need to solve whatever it is in order to get back. and we’ll say there’s a fuckin deadline because the girls need the power of three and right now they are sealed off from accessing it. and you know phoebe’s pretty fuckin pissed with cole because you know. he dragged her down to hell and she almost gave birth to the antichrist. actually source’s heir might be fun to keep around in this au idk. the point is phoebe’s pissed at cole and cole’s pissed at phoebe because phoebe’s pissed at him but he literally didn’t have control over himself in that era and he’s not getting the space he needs to justify himself because phoebe keeps stepping over him. but they gotta work together to get out of here. and were kinda doing enemies to lover 2.0 but like now they have History. of course we’ve gotta do a moment where cole has idk done something normal and phoebe’s so riled up that she does something rash and almost dies cole saves her like catches her bridal style or something faces inches apart breathing heavy and there’s a moment. like a we’re back in early s4 moment. which phoebe immediately breaks from and like walls going flying up but just for a moment there we see it it’s obvious: she’s still in love with cole. which then segues into an argument because like. cole wasn’t sure. right? he wasn’t sure if phoebe now just genuinely hated him. but now he knows right he knows better now so why are you acting like this? why are you taking every opportunity to shut me down to shut me out? why are you acting like you hate me when you know that’s not true right that whole thing to phoebe who gets the Classic because i do hate you. i hate you for what you did to me for what you did to my family and i hate you because i loved you so much and you destroyed me and i hate you because no matter how hard i try that love is still there and i know that for a second if i stop hating you i’m going to love you just like before and you can destroy me again and i hate myself because i’d let you because i love you. you know? big speech. big reveal. i have No Idea what piper and paige are up to right now. the point is. after this big confession we get the lull the cards are on the table what the fuck do we do now which is when cole Finally gets to opportunity to say he was actually possessed by the source and manipulated by the seer and the only thing that kept him holding on was his love for her and after she became queen of hell after he saw what the source had done to her he knew it had to end he doesn’t hold it against her for vanquishing him right this is where we exonerate all wrongs we’re just saying anything bad that has happened ever? scrub it. it’s the source’s fault. cole has no resentment against phoebe. he loves her a healthy, normal, non-possessive amount, so much so He Loves Her So Much he let her kill him and like honestly would probably do it again. idk and then they make out or something. and then they’re out of whatever plane they were in by the end of the episode. And Then we get a buddy cop episode with paige and cole where they bond and also sort through everything that happened there. slowly but surely. and then we do a real phole wedding a super small affair in the manor lowkey bc i hated their wedding episode it blowed we give them a good one. wallah <3

[lordsavemepleaseineedhelp]

Demons by technoblade

chapter 1: this thread... woo...

chapter 2: https://hypixel.net/threads/story-demons-ch-2.621875/

chapter 3: https://hypixel.net/threads/»-story-demons-ch-3.682724/

------------

It had been a pretty terrible day- which is to say, it had been completely normal. After seven hours of desperately trying to keep up with the material learned in each class, I was more than ready to go home. At the front of the class stood Monsieur Merlin, who was wrapping up his lesson on the French past tense- something which I had been completely ignoring. It had been a long day, don't judge me. I'd have plenty of time to learn it later, when I wasn't worn out from school. The bell rang, and our French instructor made a brief announcement- except it was in French, naturally, so I barely understood it. I made out the words 'test' and 'tomorrow,' which rarely meant anything good.

As my classmates quickly escaped the room, I walked up to his desk- he'd asked that I turn in my late assignment after class, which I suspected was more about inconveniencing me than anything else. I started to speak.

"Hi, I have-"

He swiftly interrupted. "PARLEZ-VOUS FRANCAIS!"

Oh, right. I had to speak to him in French. I quickly reviewed tenses and sentence structures in my head, and then gave up and held up my assignment.

"Mon... devoir?"

He sighed, likely because every aspect of my French was an insult to his teaching ability. He reached to take the paper, and right as he closed his hands around my vocabulary list, he froze. His eyes were locked on something behind me.

"Wha-" is all I managed to say, before he dropped my assignment and threw me into the wall.

It hurt. I hit the floor, and started to get up- I was pissed. But my anger quickly turned to shock as I saw three men with assault rifles at the back of the class room, right in front of a large, fluctuating purple hole in the wall. The French teacher ripped his necklace off, shouting something- probably in French, I wouldn't know- as they opened fire. But the bullets didn't hit him- they all bounced off some invisible barrier only a few feet in front of him.

"WILL!" he shouted. "DONNEZ-MOI MON SACHET!"

"What?"

He paused, and then remembered my comprehension of french language.

"GET MY BAG!"

It seemed an unusual request, but given the number of high-power assault rifles being fired in our immediate vicinity, I didn't question it. I turned to his desk, grabbing his bag. I started to get up, but stopped when I saw them.

The men had stopped shooting, and the one closest to him had thrown down his gun. He advanced slowly- his face completely expressionless- as he pulled out a stick. Suddenly he leaped forward, slashing as his stick transformed into a long, glowing purple blade- it hit the barrier in front of the Monsieur, shattering it. He quickly stepped forward, swinging again, and my French teacher frantically stepped back- into a wall. The blade narrowly missed him, but he started to swing again.

My French teacher threw his hand out- not at his attacker, but at me. He yelled something, probably in French, and there was a sudden flash as his bag exploded with blinding light. Everything went purple- and suddenly there was silence. And as my vision returned seconds later, I found that I was alone, in a room I'd never seen before.

chapter 1: https://hypixel.net/threads/story-demons-ch-1.615859/

chapter 2: this thread dude

chapter 3: https://hypixel.net/threads/»-story-demons-ch-3.682724/

------------

Extremely alarmed, I put down the bag and got up. I looked around- was this someone's living room? The room was empty, except for a dust-covered wooden table at the end of the room accompanied by a few plain chairs. The only other identifiable part of the room was the door next to me. What happened? Where was I? I began to panic.

"Hello?" I asked, almost yelling.

But nobody answered- instead, the bag just... glowed red. I crouched and opened it. The bag was filled with various items, of course, but many of them didn't make any sense. But before I could investigate, I saw the necklace. The necklace consisted of a silver chain attached to a ruby framed in gold, which let out a red glow- one that intensified when I reached for it. I picked it up, and suddenly the light flashed as a miniature man appeared on my hand, slightly transparent and as red as the ruby itself.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

I've never been fond of horror games, and certainly not jump-scares; this was no exception. I flinched, dropping the necklace, and fell backwards awkwardly as the man disappeared. I frantically scrambled up and backed away.

I stared at the bag for a few seconds, and then the red light returned. What? I considered leaving it there- I was thoroughly spooked- but I was curious. I slowly approached and picked it up again. The man appeared again, clearly miffed.

"Rude." he said. "Who are you?"

I was speechless for a few seconds, but then I recovered.

"I'm, uh, Will?" I responded, hesitantly.

"Who? Where's John? I heard gunshots."

"John? Wait, do you mean Monsieur Mer-?"

He interrupted me with an impatient wave of his hand. "Yes, him. What happened to him?"

"I don't know. There were some guys who showed up out of nowhere with guns, and suddenly I was here."

The red man paused for a second, and then continued asking questions, pacing on my hand.

"What did they look like?"

"Well, they were, uh, in suits. There were three of them, and they had huge guns. They came out of nowhere and just started shooting at him."

"What happened to John?"

"You mean-"

He cut me off instantly. "Yes, him, what happened to him?"

"I don't know. He yelled something and suddenly I was here with his bag."

He paused, deep in thought. Then he turned to face me.

"So you're my new carrier, huh?"

"What?"

"John's dead, and you're the one he gave me to. So you're the new carrier."

"What?" I repeated. "Monsieur Mer- I mean, John- he's dead?"

He looked at me like it was the most casual event in the world. "Well, all of his weapons are in that bag. Wizards can't do anything without tools. And shooting at someone demonstrates a distinct lack of concern for their well-being, so yeah, he's probably dead."

"Wait- wizard?"

He looked at me, again, like this was everyday stuff. "Well, yeah. His alias was Merlin, it wasn't exactly a secret."

"But... that means wizards are real."

He glanced at me, and then suddenly realized the magnitude of my ignorance. "Oh no," he said, stunned. "He's left me with an idiot."

I still had no idea what was going on. "But... wizards? That means magic is real. And other things. Like zombies, and vampires. What's going on?"

He let out an exasperated sigh. "No, no, zombies aren't real. Well, I mean, they are, but they're pretty rare, don't worry about it. And vampires went extinct ages ago." He looked around, absorbing the empty room. "Which safe house are we at?"

"What?" I asked- it was quickly becoming my new catch phrase.

"John sent us to a safe house. Go get the map." He gestured at the bag. I looked through it, noting what appeared to be several small, purple-tinted glass frisbees and a stick, and then I saw it. I drew it out and unraveled it. It didn't look like a map at all. But the red man walked across my hand and touched it, and suddenly the paper changed, a map of the United States appearing. A red dot appeared in the lower right.

"Ah," he began. "We're in the Florida one."

"What?!" I exclaimed. "I live in Nevada!"

"That's too bad. You're my carrier now, it's up to you to keep me safe."

"Carrier? What?"

He sighed, as if this was common knowledge that I should have known all along. "Alright, listen here. My name is Matchitehew, Destroyer of-"

"Matchiwhat?"

He sighed again. "Just call me Mat. Anyways, John's dead, so you're my new carrier. There's people that want to destroy me, and it's up to you to make sure that doesn't happen."

"But... why do they want to destroy you?"

"It's a long story. But I'm one of the few things remaining that stands between them and their goal, and they cannot be allowed to succeed."

"Why?"

"Well," he said, dramatically pausing. "The world won't be around much longer after they do."

chapter 1: https://hypixel.net/threads/story-demons-ch-1.615859/

chapter 2: https://hypixel.net/threads/story-demons-ch-2.621875/

chapter 3: spoiler alert, it's this thread

------------

"This is ridiculous." I said, holding up my arms to examine my new wizard robes. Mat appeared in front of me, floating at head level, transparent and half a foot tall. He quickly absorbed my appearance, and grimaced.

"It really is. Wizard fashion was always appalling. But you'll need the disguise if you want to get far past that door. Nobody can know you're a... normal. They'll tear you apart."

"Surely they're not that bad."

"Some of them are. Just go with it. Don't let anyone know I'm here, and if you encounter trouble- well, that's what the hand gun is for."

I looked down into the bag, where the black pistol lay ominously at the top of an unorganized pile of random loot. Spying a smooth, stick at the bottom, I asked:

"Is this a wand? How does it work?"

"It is, and it doesn't. Not unless you're a wizard."

"Well why not?"

He sighed.

"Well, their souls are different."

"Souls?"

"Everyone has a soul. I have a soul. You have a soul. Hell, raccoons have souls. Some have bigger ones, some have smaller. But they're all different types. They keep us conscious, they let us feel emotion, and depending on the type, they give us powers. Wizards' souls are used to power their equipment."

"So I can't use any of this?" I said, nodding towards the bag.

"Not a lot of it. Some parts have their own energy sources though."

"So why the hell am I bringing all of it?"

"The robe doesn't make the wizard, the bag full of unpredictable magic does. Nobody's going to leave you alone if they think you don't have several weapons of mass destruction in there."

I turned to look at him.

"Weapons of mass destruction?"

He shrugged.

"Well, one." he said, almost sounding embarrassed.

"What do you mean one?!"

"They're hard to come by, ok? I'm not the one with a physical body. Not my fault John only gathered one. I told him to go snatch a nuke during the collapse of the Soviet Union, but noooo, apparently 1 ton of TNT is enough." He rolled his eyes. "How are we supposed to be feared if we only have one ton of TNT?"

I looked back in the bag. I didn't see any explosives.

"But there's no TNT in here."

"Well, obviously we've hidden it. I think it's the band-aid."

I rooted around in the bag, and finally saw it. I pulled out the band-aid and admired the purple Dora the Explorer logo on it. "You mean this?"

"That's the one! Useful if we ever need to destroy a city block."

"Why would we need to-"

He cut me off. "It's good to be prepared for anything." There was an awkward pause, and he turned towards the door. "Time to go. You've got the hand-gun ready, right?"

I double checked- it was still at the top of the bag. "Isn't it a little suspicious that a wizard is using a gun?"

"Nonsense. Plus, it's a magic gun. Well I mean, it shoots magic. It's complicated. Anyhow, everyone uses guns."

"Don't they have magic?"

"We don't really refer to it as magic, but yes, they have powers. And they do use them to fight. But if there's anything you humans are good at, it's designing weapons..." He drifted off, lost in thought. Probably dreaming of more weapons of mass destruction. At any rate, I'd had enough.

"How will I get home?"

"Home? You're my carrier. You don't have a home."

"What if I don't want to be your carrier?"

"Hey, I didn't ask for this either. But life isn't perfect, and there's no one out there we can trust."

"What if I find someone trustworthy?"

He snorted. "Nobody's trustworthy."

"But you trust me."

"No, not really. I just don't really have a choice." He scowled, and fell silent. Then he started again.

"Look, they'll find us if we don't keep moving. They always do. That was John's mistake, he stayed in the same place. If you want to survive, you're going to have to learn how to run."

I turned towards the door. "But what about my life? I can't leave that behind."

He rolled his eyes. "You hated your life. Why would you go back?"

I froze. "What?"

"You did."

"How would you know?"

"I can see it in your aura."

He paused, and then continued. "Oh. You didn't know what that is either. It's, uh, basically the visible effect your soul has around you. Almost no one can see it- only the soulcasters and demons, really."

He squinted at me. "Nope, you're still confused. But we need to go."

Feeling slightly overwhelmed, I turned towards the door. I opened it, and stepped outside, ready to encounter a magical world I'd never seen before.

[best-ghoul]

Darklanders: Inuit with Whale-Oil Guns

First bit takes place in the extreme northern border, closer to Alaska than Skyrim. These guys are Fantasy Canadians, with a Redneck’s verve for zero-waste DIY, derived from Inuit culture without being 1:1. They’re here because I think I’m onto something and Inuk angles add to the narrative.

Book I’m reading right now for insp is by recommendation, from an inuk perspective around the chronological time I’m drawing from for the game (Top of the World, by Hans Ruesch). It is, well, woke for the 70s. It’s explicitly post-Colonial, and don’t let the “Eskimo” fool you, Ruesch has disposed of it by the end of the front matter. I’m researching around it now, and it seems to scratch the right itch.

So, I’m still looking for primary sources and fiction, especially historical. ATLA Water Tribe’s the initial framework, but it’s materially more Dishonored. Whalers and shit.

The angle hoping to come from here is as a white girl who’s a little confused, but who has got the spirit. Stories are tools to Inuit culture, so lifting something and missing intent, or worse, ripping off an allegorical story as Aesthetique would make me complicit. This is a take that comes from a book and a half and a couple games right now, so it’s rough.

My take? Inuit are fucking Punk and this is a Punk Game.

Consider this me checking with the internet before I snip the red or blue wire. That’s a major spirit in which Inuit tell stories and have fun, so that’s how these guys are conceived, and they’re a designed to be a natural part of the thematic tapestry and one lens among several.

I’m looking for the go-ahead from a couple Inuk outreach orgs once I’ve got a clearer picture. It would be disrespectful of me to and waste an already-stressed org’s time by coming completely ignorant and asking them to do the creative work for me.

I have been told before, and I should know better, you could say.

Here’s the concept at it’s roughest:

The Darklanders [Working Name], are Inuk with a tech advantage. They derive their epithet from the Northern Darkness, a permanent supercell around Planet’s north pole. This is the water nightmares swim upstream to fuck in, and the Darklanders are the only ones who can reliably sail it.

They brought the guns.

Everything aughta be explicitly “how this tribe does it”, but there’s major pressure to conform out of necessity. Tribe’s a ship, we’re the crew, and the ideal Darklander finds the joy in work and ensures everyone picks up the slack. Generosity without reciprocation is tantamount to insult. Tribes get more flexible the more there is to go around (generally, more southern), but there’s obviously never a whole lot of slack to work with. They’re working through The Duties of Gender, but they’re historically pretty binary about it (Inuk binary, not Europe binary). It’s explicitly A Problem.

These guys are the most maritime of several communities that operate in some of the same general ecology.  The biggest icebergs are big enough to support a tribe and sustainable animal traffic at the same time, and some hardy plant life can be grown via hydroponics for teas, medicine, and some dangerous fucking moonshine. Bergs float, though, so everything’s built to move on a dime if the weather or game turns. Permanent installations are regularly lost and rediscovered. Whaler, salvager, hunter and hawker are just the same job with different priorities.

Intertribe conflict exists, but it’s understood to be taken with high likelihood of mutually assured destruction. There are pirates.

Almost everyone is taught to be very good with tools, and there’s a high average cultural knowledge base. If the Darklanders don’t work with you, you fucking starve up here, and the seas are carpeted with the bones of proud sailors who didn’t take good advice. The joyless and proud Catharate (evil empire), often forgets that as they built the first railroads to the northern coast. 

These aren’t a miserable or sullen people, though, but the sense of humor gets more morbid the further north you go. Their Dwarf-cognates are pranksterous and Seal-y.

Tribes don’t always fracture on species lines, but there’s plenty of Horrible Little Men and sinister crones in the snowy warrens and sea caves, but nobody gets kicked out without good reason. Teamwork is the default, and they have a system of social Face.

There’s a lot of Demiurge salvage up there, as well as wares from Zu (Implied to be flourishing Fantasy China in the middle of an Inward Perfection policy. It’s closer to here than the Europe analogue, “Elf Rome”, and it shows). That’s where the metal comes from. Dis is a metal-rich place in general.

Metal and machinery blends with scrimshaw, and hide. They work off of a Dishonored-style Whale Oil system, but there’s a continual struggle between whether it’s safer to innovate or conform at all times, and there’s a tendency to view ancient salvage as much as a perfect product as the whale, moon, or sea, with their tech being a blend of that. That’s a Big Problem.

This is a game of fighting with tools and, part of an ecosystem, and remembering fun. Inuit’s probably the way to go.

Companion concept’s a Goth Bullet Witch, and a recurring NPC as a male, disabled, masterful engineer, responsible for the party’s crunchy, Bloodborne-inspired weaponry.