#Entrapment Syndrome

[familydocblog]

Ulnar Entrapment Syndrome in US Military-Age Adults

Introduction: Ulnar entrapment syndrome, also known as ulnar nerve entrapment, is a condition that can affect military-age adults, particularly those engaged in repetitive or high-impact activities. This review will provide an overview of ulnar entrapment syndrome, including symptoms, causes, treatments, and recovery expectations. Additionally, we will provide external resources for further…

[not-poignant]

Also good for writers

btw I’ve found these stretches from the WAK blog very helpful when knitting a lot:

Plus make sure to take breaks regularly - and stop if anything starts to hurt!

especially with gift knitting I know it can be tempting to push through it for a deadline, but it’s really not worth causing long term injury. (And anyone knit-worthy should be understanding of that, imho.) Stay well :)

[samreensway]

CARPAL TUNNEL SYNDROME

CARPAL TUNNEL SYNDROME MRCS PART A REVISION SERIES | ANATOMY | CARPAL TUNNEL SYNDROME MRCS PART A - A LECTURE Bli medlem i kanalen för att få åtkomst till flera förmåner: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCkkvon_blxinTHc7DGuYkpQ/join

[planetallure]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ dark!fic recs

CW: once again, these works contain dark and explicit themes that may be upsetting or triggering to some. please use your discretion and discernment.

@cherienymphe : when i first seriously got back on tumblr and got into dark!fanfic, cherie's was one of the first blogs i found. her writing was essentially my indoctrination. it was terrifying how much i loved it/her writing. truly phenomenal. i've read quite of few of her stories (mainly for rafe cameron, jj maybank, steve rogers, and peter parker) but i'll list my faves.

"when the party's over" - its something about this series...i think about it often. if you're into forced pregnancy or corruption tropes, tap in.

"wicked games" - i actually first read this one on ao3 before i discovered her tumblr and was absolutely gagged. another one i think of often.

"amnesiac" - the first series of hers that i ever read. absolutely traumatized me and i sobbed reading it. amazing storytelling.

"the hills" - another bangerrr. a one night stand ends in complete and total blackmail and entrapment. he just wanted to give her a better life *clown face emoji*.

"his father's son" - after ward death, rafe takes over the reins in more ways than one.

"teenage dirtbag" - this series single handedly made me a jj girl. the tension??? yup yup mhm.

"the less i know the better" - ironically my favorite part of this story is readers relationship with rafe but seeing jj slowly and then rapidly descend into madness? yeah.

"claimed" - a/b/o dynamics. brought me back to my wattpad days. still eat it up.

"daddy dearest" - steve meets a single mom and decides to be not the stepdad, but the dad who stepped up.

i'll be honest, i was a non believer in dark!peter but: "she's with me", "one last time." "suburbia" and "basic training" made a believer outta me. hands. down.

@lambtotheslaughterr : it absolutely amazes me the things that come from her mind. the level of creativity and originality needs to be studied. oona, you are criminally underrated.

“rise” - the first series of hers that i read. arguably the best series i’ve read on here thus far. this is the first part to her “the day the world ended” universe and it completely blew me away. i couldn’t believe that something like it had come from some silly little boat show. just brilliant.

“when the bough breaks” - the first work of hers i read. this one for me was a heartbreaking slow burn story, but the smut…makes up for it. yes yes.

“i burn” - sex!addict reader x rafe cameron. need i say more? actually, i will. the smut and tension in this one towards the end? it was shameful how turned on i was.

“one way or another” - buckle up, grab a snack, and prepare for the ride of a lifetime. that’s it.

“something wicked this way comes” - a single mom trying to escape her past, except her past is rafe cameron. this was one very spooky scary la la.

"summit" - the second part to the tdtwe universe. its still brand new but its already feeling like another banger, i mean it's oona. tap in.

@harryspet : rae was also apart of my indoctrination and boy did she do what needed to be done. her perfectly curated moodboards alone did it for me. very mindful, very demure.

"homestead" - what can i say...i'm a sucker for pregnancy stories :( and this series was no exception. absolutely delectable. enjoy.

"well kept" - classic millionaire ceo x reader, my younger wp reading self cheered gleefully. my love language is acts of service and boyy was this one speaking my language. had me at "scheduled braiding appointment."

"bambi eyes" - this one was one of those that made me want to take a good long look in the mirror and ask myself, "is this who we are...is this what we represent?"

@sherrybaby14 : this one is for the mcu girlies. more fics than you could ever ask for. everyone say "thank you, mother!"

"the distraction" - i'm starting to notice a kidnapping/stockholm syndrome pattern here...ANYWAY! work is realllyy stressful for steve and you just happen to be the perfect distraction.

@straywords : she's no longer active but her incredible writings remain so please, peruse. its like a beautiful museum over there.

"a break" - *gasp* another pregnancy story! stucky edition.

@darkficsyouneveraskedfor : an icon, a legend, she is the moment! another infinite library for my mcu girls. roo has all you could ever want or ask for.

@perlelune

"all too well" - yes, yes, another one, its who i am. rafe cameron proving once again that you can't escape him.

"lucky" - best friend!rafe x reader. he didn't know what he had until it was almost gone

"tag, you're it" - never read a scream fanfic before this one but boy did i have fun! chad is so pookie in this too :(

@honestsycrets : back when i was in my miguel era, sy single handedly kept me fed.

"starved | mio" - "mio", in which you babysit mayday and it gives miguel baby fever and "starved", in which he made you a mom...but its left less time for other activities.

"stung" - sex pollen/abo. reader gets bitten by an anomaly causing a reaction that only miguel can cure

"amor y respeto" - he just can't love you the way you need to be. so you and miguel break up...at the worst possible time.

"exclusive" - you and miguel are fuckbuddies. you want more, but miguel can't bring himself to give it to you. so you find company in hobie, who's there for you in all the ways that you need. miguel's not happy about that.

"canary" - you're a singer in the 1920s who's fallen in with the dangerous o'hara brothers.

"grande" - sex!worker miguel x assistant!reader. think...a pepper x tony kinda dynamic. except, miguel doesn't take kindly to certain slights. :)

@starfxkrinc : last but certainly not least! moony is a ridiculously talented writer and a mutal of mine. i found her early on during my resurgence on here. this is her new side blog (rip lovesickbrat and starfxkr!!) luckily she was able to salvage a lot of her past works and is back like she never left. i recommend her "western nights" series (really just the trailer park!jj tag in general) and her "ode to eaters" au. a queen of all things taboo. she does it for the girls who are drawn to the dark and scary. the gross and weird. <3

[catnipcoffee]

I got my shot today

It's hard to type and be good at it now so you get this.

I got sushi for lunch and went owling. I only saw eagles. :/

Overall the lidocaine injection is going to help but it causes chaos on the first day and night. I have severe fatigue and brain fog and pain everywhere but the spot the lidocaine is meant to treat. Today is just bad health wise but I'm in a good mood.

Oh, there's also a wounded chicken in my shed. I can't access it and if it makes it through the night, I'll get it out of there. Used a lot of energy in that situation. Won't share the photos cause it looks rough.

This probably didn't make sense. Sorry.

I'm okay, my husband is teaching care of me but I'm truly out of it.

[milkbobatyun]

dark sunrise

pairing: yandere!sunday x reader

genre: angstober, events, yandere

summary: the sun rises again, but are you still who you are?

word count: 746

C O N T E N T W A R N I N G : yandere behaviour, manipulation, fear, stockholm syndrome

a/n: my attempt at writing about stockholm syndrome. if you or someone you know has experienced or is experiencing this, please do seek the right professional help. i will make it clear that IN NO WAY am i romanticising this, just thought it would fit in well with the scenario.

the golden sun’s warm rays smiled upon your face through the glass, refracting rays of rainbows across the room.

the breeze blew in from the open windows, its cool fingers twisting through your hair, dancing carelessly through the curtains of your bedposts.

every day, you wished you could be as free as the wind, blowing along without a care in the world. yet here you were, entrapped on the bed, the fracture in your ankle anchoring you down, reliant on sunday to meet your daily needs.

need water? simply a word and he would have it by your side, feeding it to you sip by sip. you didn’t need to lift a finger. wanted some comfort food? sunday was already ordering the maids to inform the chef. he knew you so well, he had everything arranged before you even opened your mouth.

sunday was trying to curry your favour and manipulate you. sunday was understanding of you, he knew you like the palm of his hand.

like a bird courting its mate, sunday brought you many little gifts and trinkets. a shiny necklace today, a multifaceted jewel the next.

it amused you to see his wings flap up with excitement and anticipation as he watched your every little reaction. somehow, in the shimmering light of sun that haloed his figure, he seemed more like an angel sent from above than a devil of your nightmares. perhaps sunday wasn’t truly evil, just misunderstood.

sunday’s comforting smile and hold warmed your heart, making it flutter in your chest. but for an instant, you caught something more twisted behind his eyes, something that made your blood run cold.

wait. something wasn’t right. that isn’t true, sunday was keeping you away from your loved ones. your heart was warmed by his thoughtful gifts, but underneath, something ominous gnawed at your consciousness. a faint whisper echoed in your mind: you need to escape. without a second thought, you squashed the vexing voice, casting it to the back of your mind

sunday was evil sunday was your god, your saviour.

in a state of boredom, when your injuries allowed you, you began to explore through your bedroom, shuffling through drawers and reading your old diaries.

you were scandalised to find a passage you had written in your earlier days, the words squiggling and shaking across the page like worms,.

someone please come and save me soon. i’m scared. my arm still hurts from yesterday when he twisted it because i didn’t follow his instructions, my cheek still swollen from when he slapped me for talking to a bystander. i’m struggling to conceal the bruises on my neck from—

the words on the page merge into one large ink blot that soaks into the page. fear and anxiety had rendered your writing useless, your clumsiness spilling over onto the page in the form of black ink.

you were horrified by what you had written early in your days of captivity misunderstood days, when you were still learning to be obedient. ripping out the page, shame flushed through you.

how dare you think such thoughts? wishing to be free? rebellious. sunday was doing these things for your own good. he cared for you.

bringing the page up to the candle, you watched the paper wither and smoulder away, hiding the evidence of your criminal thoughts.

the moon shone its milky light into the room, watching over you as you slept peacefully, dreaming of a warm spring where you sat under the shade of a tree, surrounded by blooming flowers, cradled in sunday’s warmth.

sunday was a wolf in a sheep’s clothing. sunday is misunderstood, that’s how he expresses his love for me.

the crimson sun rose, its scarlet light spilling across the manor that held you captive kept you safe from the dangerous world, like an ocean of blood. you stared mindlessly out the window, forehead leaning on the cool glass.

you knew it was all wrong, upside down and back to front. the gifts, the isolation, yet every time that thought came close to bursting from its cage, you quashed down the rebellious thoughts of leaving. sunday’s gentle touch kept you in the palm of his hand, a prisoner in a golden cage. how could you doubt, even for a minute, that sunday was causing you harm? sunday was dangerous, you needed to leave as soon as possible. sunday understands and cares for me more than anyone else. sunday was warm, like home.

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

[dangerous-yam-fries]

Male Naga x GN!Reader - NSFW

Asks and Suggestions are open and encouraged!

Warnings: Stockholm syndrome, envenomation, hemipenes, cock-warming, terato, yandere behavior, MINORS LEAVE NOW

You had been hasty when you initiated sexual acts with what should be your research specimen. And now that you were coming down from a rather hazy high, you had time to collect your thoughts and set your mind straight.

Something had tried to kill you back in the pond, but you weren’t sure what. When you woke up you where entrapped within the fleshy, scaly bind of Hyacinths tail, and then you, and him, had sex. You had to get to the bottom of what happened at the pond before you passed out, but you didn’t have the heart to question Hyacinth. Not after you molested and coerced him into having sex with you… if anything, he was victim here! But… his dicks were still inside of you.

“Stressed? (Name)?” Hyacinth shifted behind you, his hemipenes wriggling against your walls as he readjusts himself.

“Uh… Hyacinth… I don’t remember much from before I passed out, but I did wake up with you…” He wrapped his arms around you slightly tighter, resting his head on your shoulder and looking at you. Your breath hitched at his eyes, they were probably the reason you weren’t angry or upset about your current situation. His eyes were so beautiful, it just made any negative feelings melt away, and you could feel yourself relaxing.

“Someone attacked you, I’m adept in water, and I saw no reason for you to die.” His eyelashes batted against his cheeks as he blinked, his lips moved so gracefully that you almost couldn’t focus on his words. “So I saved you, and took you back to my… humble abode.” His lips curled into a smile that he pressed to your cheek, his eyes gazing into yours.

“Thank you, Hyacinth. I… probably would’ve died without your help.” You turn your head and kiss his cheek, ghosting his lips with your own.

“You’re welcome then, pet.” His voice is quiet and he kisses you gently, his cocks moving inside of you, slippery and hot. He brings his mouth down to your shoulder and bites into it, releasing more of his venom into your bloodstream.

Hyacinths venom has various uses, one of which works as a sexual stimulant. But you were too high off it to realize. “Just relax, you’re safe here with me. No need to think about anything else~” His voice was quiet, his forked tongue grazing along your neck and chin, pulling you into another kiss.

“Mmm-hm.” You mumble and turn your body so that you’re facing him, a lusty fog settling over your brain, addling your body with heat. You shiver and shake as his dicks move inside of you, poking the parts that make your head throwback in eye rolling pleasure.

Your hole feels loose from cock warming and love making, but Hyacinth sighs at your warmth wrapping around him, your insides tightening as he deepens the kiss. His tongue is long and dexterous, wrapping around yours in a hot, wet, dance dripping with arousal. He moans into your mouth obscenely, making you whimper and shake around him.

“You feel so good, (Name). I really, really adore you, pet.” Hyacinth breaks away from the kiss and whispers, his opalescent eyes gazing into yours as he finishes inside of you with a few thrusts into your heat. “I love you, so much.” His face is flushed and sweaty, his scars looking pinker than usual, his hair is messy and sticking to his skin. And his eyes look scared, like he’s afraid of your verdict, your reaction, and you can see that he is hanging onto your very breath.

“I… adore you as well, Hyacinth.” Even high off his venom and sex, you’ve still only known him for a day, you couldn’t break out the L-Word just yet. Hyacinth knew he couldn’t ask too much of you, but your words were enough for now. He chuckled breathlessly, smiling and pressing his forehead to yours to look into your eyes from up close.

“Am I adorable? Do you find me cute?” His smile is so pure for such a dirty moment that it takes your breath away, making you giggle as well. You can feel Hyacinths dicks squirming inside of you, mildly stimulated from your laughter. He blushes and pulls out, you can feel something leaking from your hole, clenching around air as you respond.

“You’re so adorable, and I think you’re very cute, Hyacinth.” You wrap your arms around his neck and rub his back, reaching up to play with his chocolate-brown hair. “You’re beautiful, so beautiful…” You sigh, looking in his eyes is like staring down eternity. It’s so calming and peaceful, so enchanting.

“I think you’re adorable, and cute.” He kisses your lips. “And smart.” A kiss to your nose. “And handsome.” He kisses your cheek. “And far more beautiful than me, pet.” He stops to look you dead in the eyes, his eyes shine with contemplation. “I love you so much, (Name).”

His words are sobering, lifting your head from the clouds of horniness. What you were doing right now was dangerous and stupid, you should be bringing him back to camp and gathering samples. But you didn’t want him to catch on to your mental state. You knew that he injected you with his venom for a reason, and you didn’t want to be subjected to it again.

“I think I… love you too, Hyacinth.” You need to play along to reach your objective, and while you don’t want to manipulate the one that saved you, it’s the only way.

He beamed at your words, his smile growing and his eyes lighting up. You would have to be careful of his eyes, they might just break your resolve. “That… You make me so happy, pet. I love you. It feels good to say.” He giggles and kisses you, you kiss back and quickly pull away. Your insides ached and your hole burned, your neck stinging from his bites, bleeding in places. “Pet?”

“Hyacinth… I was wondering if I could put my clothes back on, and maybe take you back to my camp so we could eat something. Together.” You ask timidly, looking over his shoulder to the mangled cloth that was your clothes.

“I have plenty of food here, no need to worry.” Your eyes watched his tail move across the room, picking up a plump looking fruit. He readjusts his posture so that your sitting on him, your back to his stomach, his hands rubbing your sides. “Only the best for you, pet.” He whispers into your ear and kisses your cheek, rubbing his cheek against yours.

“Thank you, Hyacinth. It looks delicious.” Well that plan failed. But the fruit did look good, a ripe yellow outside, with some slight enzymatic browning, but you could tell it was bursting with juice. He cracks it open with ease, and sure enough, juice came dripping from it, glistening on his sharp nails and veiny hands.

“Eat up, pet. It’s hydrating as well.” He brings the plump inside up to your mouth, and you sheepishly take a bite. You roll the flavorful fruit in your mouth, despite its pale color it’s plush with sweetness and endlessly refreshing after not eating for half a day.

“It’s good… what’s it called?” You ask, chewing on it. Cataloging different flora was a part of your job, so it counted as work. Barely.

He let out a serious of hisses and purrs, laughing at your reaction. “In your language, it means ‘sweet solid water’. We’re very literal in our speech.”

“Sweet solid water, huh? I’ve never seen a fruit like this. In fact, I’m here on a research mission, my team is working on finding things like this. Things that are new to our species. If I could take some of this back to camp with me-“

“Do you really have to leave so soon? You should rest with me, where you’re safe.” His voice emphasized ‘safe’, and you could feel his arms tighten around your stomach.

“You should come with me, I… specialize in the study of snakes, so it would mean a lot to me if you’d let me study you. We would spend a lot of time together…” You gulped and tried to relax your body, leaning into his touch.

“Not all humans are as kind as you, pet. We should stay here for now. Let’s not think to hard on this, alright?” It was less of a question and more of an order, one that made your blood run cold.

“Sounds like a plan. You think I could have some more of that fruit?” Something didn’t feel right, and it wasn’t just aches from sex or hunger. But Hyacinth was still a naga, the very creature you had been looking so hard for, and you weren’t going to let wriggle his way out of your grasp.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Do you think hostage reader would ever try to escape? Maybe even get some sort of legal action taken against Konig? How would Konig react if hypothetically hostage reader would try to do this?

Escaping him is kina easy in hostage!reader scenario, to be honest, Konig wasn't preparing his apartment for a captive pet, he didn't proof all locks and windows - and he isn't living on a very high floor, so you'd probably be fine with some lockpick and a prayer that he would be far enough from you to not hear you run. He was basically thinking of you as his pretty girlfriend, so perfect and obedient for him, he doesn't want to break this illusion with those dumb locks and everything like this...until you run, that is. The main problem for you is that your release from terrorists was very public. Konig in this scenario isn't just a mercenary, he was doing a lot of good work for the Austrian and German special forces, helping in international operations as a colonel - so, the media isn't exactly on the side of this half-naked girl talking nonsense about a beloved soldier. He might not be a poster child for the military, but he has some people who know him in the police - and we all remember how Stockholm syndrome is actually a hoax made up by psychologists who never even spoke to victims directly, just because a female victim had the nerve to protest against police actions since they were endangering all the hostages. Media would portray you as his lost soul, so entrapped with terrorist schemes that you are afraid of your savior!! So heartbreaking, they can't wait until returning you to Konig since his girlfriend is freaking out, probably because you're scared of him being away on missions( you're forced into humiliating forced therapy sessions, with delusional Konig hovering over your shoulder and that fucking awful therapist, tying to dissect exactly what in your childhood made you so so scared of armed forces. Konig decides to move out of the city after this - you need peace, he tries to explain, and also a set of locks and cameras and a firm basement if you really want to play the victim and paint him into a villain that forces you into captivity. You really brought this upon yourself, silly thing(

[animeyanderelover]

Request: Nsfw Hc's for Hannah Annafellows from Black Butler?

Tw: Yandere themes, Nsfw, possessive behavior, obsession, isolation, Stockholm syndrome, sadism, dub-con, manipulation, corruption kink, dacryphilia, blood kink, face-sitting, afab reader

Taglist: @lovley-valentine7@leveyani@chxxz

Nsfw Hc's

GIF by natsuki208

🟣​Hannah is all about the sweet manipulation, all about entrapping her darling until they are dependent on her, obsessed with her. Your own obsession could never compare to her own feelings of course as she, a creature of darkness and evil, feels something that goes beyond what humans commonly refer to as 'love'. Only after she has turned you into a demon would you be able to understand the full extent of her feelings for you. She'll take her time though to enjoy your humanity for as long as she can. As submissive and gentle as Hannah may appear to be she is a demon through and through, possessive over her human mate and biblically viewed as a sinful creature who tempts humans to abandon their virtue and join the hellish crusade, undeniably the sexual aspect of this relationship is something that will eventually cross your way one way or another. She does not violently force herself on you though, instaid waiting until she has wrapped you just enough around her fingers for her to coax and sweet-talk you into letting her show you just how much she adores you whilst the best you can give her is weak protest before you submit to her.

🟣​Known for being a species that greatly enjoys corrupting the hearts and minds of the common humans, Hannah finds herself finding her own pleasure in this aspect just as much. Especially if she senses that you are still unclaimed and still a virgin would she find herself on a more feral side during your first time, her dead heart thrilled as she rips away your innocence from you, taints and claims you all for herself. She'd be ever so slightly displeasured if she were to figure out that her darling is no virgin and has been claimed by someone before as the innocence of her mate would have been something precious she would have loved to devour. That primal resentment that something that should have only belonged to her got taken away subtly shows itself in the reveal of her more sadistic side during your first time together, in her more feral and possessive manner as she decides to erase every trace of them from your body as well as your mind until only she remains.

🟣​Every time the both of you do the dirty deed the demon lady slowly reveals more and more of her true nature and her desires to you. That sweet, nurturing and almost motherly facade of her slowly fades as you get more and more glimpses of her feral, sadistic and starving nature. Her praises are poisoned honey that she feeds you, her words admiring and adoring with a tinge of condescendence in it all. You are her everything yet you are ultimately still a human. Terribly weak and frail, gone in the blink of an eye for someone who has haunted the world for as long as she did. You helpless little thing need her. Every time you are laying beneath her she whispers those manipulative words in your ears and against your lips, forces you to admit it to her as she plunges you into orgasm after orgasm with her tongue, her mouth, her fingers, her hands. She feeds on your release, her tongue greedily devouring it all as her eyes turn for a split second magenta. It may not keep her satiated like the souls of people do but she still finds herself indulging in the taste of your growing adoration for her.

🟣​If you thought of her as a modest woman you should think again. She relishes in tormenting her darling just enough for the tears to swim in your eyes and your skin to start tingling in shame and fear. Sacred activities that were once restricted to the bedroom slowly get taken outside where the potential risk for other people to walk in is much higher. The scent of fresh night air and flowers, the grass your only cover as she fucks you in the fields where families normally have a picnic and children play around. A side street next to a normally busy main road as you are forced to stand on wobbly legs, supported by her hands on your hip as she kneels in front of you with her tongue deep inside your moist pussy. Every sound and embarrassed plea you make, voicing your fear of being caught only has her prolonging the process, drawing your anticipated climax out until you start begging her to finally make you cum. With her extraordinary senses she would never let someone else see you like this, a sight that should only be reflected in her demonic eyes. You don't need to know that though.

🟣​She provides you with great, albeit guilty, pleasure and soon it is your turn to give her some too. After all you would want to keep your lover happy as well, wouldn't you? Hannah loves the sight of you between her legs, loves watching you as you eagerly and sloppily lap at her pussy juices, desperate to provide her with the same pleasure she always has you experiencing. She is much more composed though as she pats your head, encourages you to keep going over and over again. Her own libido, whilst mostly controlled, is quite high so she can cum around your fingers and tongue for hours and still desire more as she coaxes you into spending hours pleasuring her and will by the end still be less exhausted than you are. Her warm praise means more to you though than your exhaustion as she lays you against her large chest and lets you rest there. Especially her heat will drain you as long as you are still human, her juices staining your chin and the hair of her cunt tickling your nose as she sits on your face, her eyes flashing magenta far more often than normally as you are enslaved by her and forced to pleasure her until the worst is over.

🟣​The taste of your blood is yet another bodily fluid of yours that she dines on. There are bite marks where her sharp canines cut through your skin and revealed the red, delicious liquid to her taste buds, the force of her bite always purposefully more painful to draw that painful groan from you. Your body is by the end always covered with purple lipstick and multiple bite marks all littering your body as if you were an empty canvas waiting to be filled with her love. Pleasure can quickly turn to sexual torture though if you were to displease Hannah. Brats need to be reprimanded and Hannah does so by some serious edging, getting beneath your layers of clothing multiple times a day only to leave you on the brink of an orgasm every time before returning to her duties until your underwear is soaked and your pussy clenches around the painful emptiness where her fingers or her tongue should be. Hannah can keep this up for days until you come crawling to her and promise that from now on you will behave yourself before she finally pushes you into sweet release.

[readychilledwine]

Death of Peace of Mind - Part 1

Summary - We all believe Eris has a cabin hidden in the Autumn woods that he keeps his mate in, but what if she wasn't there willingly?

Warnings - technically kidnapping, sighs of setting in Stockholm Syndrome, technically signs of abuse/neglect towards a partner, inferred smut

A/N - this part is fairly mild, but the ending should tell you all what's coming. This is a pretty big time jump between this part and the little preview *link coming soon.* at this point our "unnamed" oc has been trapped in Eris's cabin for 7 months now

Ps- do we think Eris and Lucien need their own foxboy dividers? (I low-key do)

Part two

*6 months into her entrapment*

Eris had left his mate alone in his cabin for a  month now. Warding her within the 20 foot radius he gave her for exploration. 

It had taken time to tame her. More time than he had wanted it to, but he still knew it was what was best for her. 

He leaned back in his chair, listening to the advisor his father was allowing to drag on speak about how they need to tax the lesser fae harder. It wasn't a sentiment he argued with despite his face showing neutrality towards the idea of continuing to rob the poor and hungry, but he knew better than to start an argument.

An argument would mean he'd be there longer, or have to deal with his father's wrath and whatever punishment he felt fit. Being quiet meant getting back to his mate sooner. It meant seeing if his isolation plan had worked sooner. And when it did, it meant in a few more hours, he'd be buried inside of her. 

-

She knew he was coming home soon and tucked her legs into her chest. The silence had been welcomed. Wanted even if she was honest with herself. But she was lonely. He'd left her with one hound instead of the usual 3, and not even a hound who wanted to be with her.

She was confused by him. Her body begging and pleading to bend to his every wish and want, to be his, but er mind screaming to run, to fight. Her heart stood tore in the middle. She'd always wanted a mate, she just have never wanted this isolation.

She jumped as the door opened and familiar claws ran across the wood floor rushing to come greet her. She turned to pet little fluffy heads, one hound in each hand as he took off his jacket and shoes.

"You told me it'd only be a few days," her heart tightened. "You were gone for a month."

Eris quickly hid the tugging smile. "Did you miss me then?"

"No." Yes. She realized she had answered too quickly. His brow raised indicated he didn't believe her. And who could blame him when she didn't believe herself. "It just isn't something a proper mate would do." 

Eris felt his shoulders grow stiff, his head turned to the side slightly as if he were assessing her. "So a month of loneliness is all it took for you to acknowledge the bond? To acknowledge you are mine?"

She felt the weight of his questions hit her. That had been his plan all along, to force loneliness so deep it cut through her sanity. He moved to her, hands falling to her hips and gripping tightly. He was waiting for an answer. "Speak, fox." He said to her, "Tell me of your nights without my body and magic keeping the sheets warm, of how cold the cabin grew without me keeping the fires lit. Tell me how desperate you were for me. For my touch."

His gaze was serpentine. Staring her down as if she were no more than a wounded animal. "I didn't mean it that way," her voice was weak.

"You know better than to lie, little fox," one hand moved up her body. "Now greet me like a proper mate who missed her other half." She shook her head, refusing to give him that one carnal desire. Eris clicked his tongue. "Maybe I was mistaken in thinking you were ready for time apart. I thought we were past this." His hands on her hips grew tighter and warmer. She felt her lip tremble. "Do you need a reminder of who this body belongs to? Of who makes it sing?" His right hand moved up her body. "Not a single day went by where I did not miss and think of you. Of the good girl I left at home."

His words were a soft confession and opening. His Amber eyes met her doe ones. The offer shining brightly. If she gave him this one thing, he would be gentle with her tonight. "Well, little love," his hand tilted her face to his. "Will you give me a welcome home kiss?"

Her mind screamed for her to fight longer, to fight more. Her heart begged to cave to this new gentleness he was offering. Her body screamed for it as well. It screamed to be reunited with her mate, despite his isolation methods, despite his cruelty.

She caved, hands finding his chest, her soul, and heart, singing from finally having contact and socialization again. She began kissing him deeply despite the dimming protests in her mind.

-

Eris knew of her independence when he ripped her from her parents home. He had begun to use it as a reward against her.

If she behaved, he allowed her a taste of freedom, of what they would have when his father was gone. And last night had behaved beautifully. 

She had allowed him to take her, the way he truly wanted, with soft caresses and whispered words of adoration and worship. She had cried and begged for him as if he was her savior and salvation all in one. 

So today, he took her to Spring. Allowing her to explore the once destroyed but now flourishing market.

"Good girls get rewards," he had murmured into her naked skin as he took her again this morning. 

He didn't even notice her plotting. He only finally noticed when they had reached an area that was more lively than others and she was no longer at his side. 

But if she wanted a game of chase, if she wanted to ruin this beautiful day the two of them were having. He was more than happy to oblige and trap her back in that cabin until she understood one simple fact.

She wasn't going to go home. 

-

Her heart was racing as she pulled the scarf further over her hair and weaved between bodies. 

She didn't bother looking at anyone. Didn't return their joyful good mornings. She had to focus on her escape. On crossing that border into Autumn and getting home.

She quickly made it to that odd edge between courts, were bright green grass contrasted deep golden orange and burning red hues. 

She took off running when the bond warned her he was close. Her home was a 3 days journey by horseback from Spring. She had no clue if she'd make it there, or how long it could take, but this kiss of freedom was worth it.

She was near the cabin when nightfall came giving away to cold air. She was starving, exhausted, and her body felt as if she had been laying on hot pokers all day.

Every step to keep herself warm was tedious as her legs grew heavier. Every rustle of leaves had her on edge.

She stood at the small clearing, knowing a right would take her back to the cabin, to somewhere safe and warm. A left would take her towards the border of Winter. Continuing straight would take her home. 

She knew these woods weren't safe. That she was not safe. I was safe in the cabin, her mind whispered. He may be cruel, but I was always safe.

-

Eris watched her from up in the trees unknown to her. He had found her hours ago with the 9 hounds that were also stalking her like prey. 

One of them paused, ears folding back and his body going low to the ground as he growled. Eris smelled the beast before he heard it or saw in. He gave the signal for his hounds to hold and waited, a bow and arrow notched. 

Soulless black eyes stared at his mate, long claws emerged from its hands as it stalked around her and she stood there frozen in fear. "The dark mother has brought me a blessing," the creature hissed to her. "A treat wandering into the forest all by herself." 

Eris kept his arrow lined and true with the beast but never released it. The hounds were growing restless, itching to destroy the monster, threatening the female they considered their mother. She didn't even move as it raised a clawed hand to brush her cheek, only whimpered out of fear. "Your screams will be delicious." 

It's other clawed hand raised and Eris took the opening, shooting the beast in the ribs and heart before it could harm his little mate and giving the hounds the signal to attack.

He jumped down, and she looked at him, eyes welled with tears before running into his arms.

"I'm sorry," she kept whispering. "I'm so sorry. Take me home. Please. Please don't make me stay out here." 

Eris put her at an arm's length, faking a look of indifference. "I offered you my love, my safety, my protection. I gave you a treat for your good behavior, and you repay me by running away?" Her lips trembled as her tears fell faster. "You truly expect me to take you back to the cabin you seem to hate so much?" He whistled for his hounds, signaling them to stop the attack and head home. "Why shouldn't I leave you in these woods, alone and cold?"

Her body shook with sobs. "Eris please. I'm so scared."

"And you could have been home safe. If you would have played your part, had you been a good little mate. A night out here would be the consequences of your own actions." 

A whimper ripped through her. "I'll give you anything, please. Please take me back."

Eris cocked his head at her, "Anything?" He purred in delight. Holding his hand out. "If I bring you home, you never run again, you will serve me a meal, and you will move into my chambers when I place as high lord with no further arguments."

It was a slap in the face. Her mind was reeling instantly, pleading with her to just leave. To turn towards winter, to turn towards anywhere and leave. "You can shake my hand and seal the bargain, or you can stay in these woods. Cold, afraid, and alone. Thousands of females would slaughter each other with no hesitation for your spot at my side."

The mating bond growled in possession inside of her, her heart shattered at the idea of him with someone else. Her body moved on its own choice, her hand slowly raising and holding his. 

Eris growled in satisfaction. "I expect my dinner tomorrow night, little fox." He picked her up, warming her freezing body with his own as he walked to the cabin. "Let's get you inside and safe."

-

He tucked her naked body into the bed. Warming the sheets to fight the chill that had sunk into her bones. She was covered in evidence of his love for her. He grinned with male satisfaction before moving to the living room and checking over the 9 sleeping hounds who had been treated to her love and treats. 

He walked out of the door, whistling three times for the last three to come in. They jogged to the door happily, little scraps of her clothing still attached to their collars. He took the clothing off of them, throwing it into the hearth where the rest of the dress had burned early, and he patted them each gently.

"Good hounds," he spoke softly. "You lead it straight to her."

[circeyoru]

I read the new chapter and obviously it was amazing but correct me if I'm wrong but doesn't alastor basically have stockholm syndrome cuz the reader but him in a this space ,trapped, he only had food and the only interaction he had was with the cages and they are like are like an extension of her and the cages anytime he would do what they said to do they would praise him and he got use to that sorry if I'm wrong or plz ignore it again you are amazing

This is for {Collection of Overlords}, check MASTERLIST for the work

Haha~ Thanks for the praise!

(think of this as a bit of Part 6.5)

Interesting thought. I didn't exactly see it that way. Here's why~

Maybe it's cause it was too short and in Alastor's perspective, but if it was in Reader's/your perspective, that not how it went. The forest was never set to be an entrapment, there was no barrier around to keep Alastor in. It has to do with his soul and its connection with a forest. It's assumed that he died in one and his soul is more associated with a forest.

Check part 6 again, it said "The shadows he controlled ran rampened, out of his control.", it was never you that brought him to the forest. He brought himself there. The fact that he couldn't control his power and unconsciously, his soul lead him to where he's most familiar with. Not out of the shadows in the city, but in the forest.

Why he couldn't leave was his own fear binding him to stay. A bit of lore here, soul don't immediately go to Heaven or Hell after death, its judged and waits a while before entering. When Alastor entered Hell, it was unfamiliar to him and he gained power very very quickly that he didn't have time to adapt and learn to control them. He knows the gist of how they operate and what it does. That's it.

When you found him, he was trapping himself in the forest. You merely used the convenient opportunity to train him. The forest was enchanted that some Earth animals would appear from time to time as meat for demons to feast on, these animals slowly turn to a more hellish version with time and exposure.

Back to Alastor, the Cages starts appearing as a show that you found him. You provided him guidance to his power. The 'ideas' were just methods to teach him how to master his power, there wasn't much that was new in your view.

The Cages disappearing was a test to see if he would take the power and return back to the city. When he didn't you let him come to you.

You were going to explain everything to him, but he just flat out asked to join. So you never did.

All in all, you can call it stockholm syndrome? But I don't see where's the victim and captor. Since it was all self-imposed by Alastor himself. His pridefulness and lack of knowledge got him into that situation and you just exploited it.

[judasrpc]

THE SWORDS

a collection of character development questions based on the arcana and their themes !! this is part of a collection of tarot-themed asks. if multi, please specify which muse(s) the question is directed toward !!

[PAGE] - Are they a curious person? If so, what are some topics they would like to learn more about?

[PAGE, REVERSED] - Have they been deceived? If so, how (and if known, why)?

[ACE] - Do people consider them sharp/witty? Are they quick to adapt to social situations?

[ACE, REVERSED] - Do they have a fear of rejection? If so, is there anything that's influenced/affirmed that fear?

[TWO] - Are they indecisive, or do they know what they want when they want it? If they are indecisive, what do they do to help make a choice (e.g, talk it out, flip a coin, etc.)?

[TWO, REVERSED] - What confuses them the most? Is it something literal, or a broad concept?

[THREE] - What is something that gives them grief, or otherwise makes them feel suffering and sorrow?

[THREE, REVERSED] - Is it easy for them to let go of their pain, or do they tend to hold it closely to their heart? Is it dependent on the situation that causes them pain? What factors go into it?

[FOUR] - Do they get enough rest? What does their nightly routine look like, if they have one?

[FOUR, REVERSED] - What are the telltale signs that they are exhausted and/or burnt out?

[FIVE] - Are they competitive? If so, what lengths are they willing to go to in order to win?

[FIVE, REVERSED] - What is something they do to reconcile with those they've had conflict with? Do they do anything?

[SIX] - Is there something they need to "move on" from? If so, is it a specific event or person?

[SIX, REVERSED] - Do they have any unfinished business? A score to settle? If so, what is it?

[SEVEN] - Are they secretive? If so, what about? Is it something small, or something serious?

[SEVEN, REVERSED] - Do they struggle with imposter syndrome (self-doubt of intellect, skills, or accomplishments among high-achieving individuals or in comparison to their peers)?

[EIGHT] - Have they been in a situation where they've manipulated someone into doing something for them/in their favor?

[EIGHT, REVERSED] - How do they define freedom? Do they feel free in their life, or is something keeping them entrapped?

[NINE] - Are they an anxious person? If so, what makes them feel that way, and how intense do their feelings get?

[NINE, REVERSED] - What is their general mental health like? Is there a lot of inner turmoil, or do they manage it?

[TEN] - How do they react in a crisis? Do they jump into action, or do they freeze?

[TEN, REVERSED] - What was their lowest point, and how (if applicable) have they moved upward?

[KNIGHT] - What is a belief they have that they would "die on that hill" for? Is there anything that could change their mind, or are they steadfast?

[KNIGHT, REVERSED] - Are they good at guessing/predicting how situations/events will turn out?

[QUEEN] - Are they more objective (neutral) or subjective (emotional) when passing judgment?

[QUEEN, REVERSED] - Do they resent anybody? If so, who and why?

[KING] - Do people consider them disciplined, or are they more rebellious?

[KING, REVERSED] - Do they believe social hierarchies are necessary, or do they believe that these systems are tools for control?

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

By Rob Wallace

From summer into fall, SARS-CoV-2, the COVID-19 virus, ran up another epidemiological spike just as the feds sunset their pandemic control program.

While the virus continues along a loop of boom and bust repeatedly reset by its capacity for evolutionary escape, putting people in the hospital and out of work at a steady clip, U.S. officials and well-connected epidemiologists have abandoned public health in both practice and concept.

Alongside entrapping millions of Americans in a Long COVID vortex, such dereliction of duty places the U.S. in danger should other diseases arise, including, but not limited to, an avian influenza strain that even now is moving beyond cow herds and poultry flocks and beginning to spread in humans.

The COVID-19 pandemic that some of our most august epidemiologists pretend is over portends a broader decline in the very notion of the public commons upon which any functional society depends.

The State of the COVID Nation What’s the present state of the U.S.’s COVID-19 outbreak?

The National Wastewater Surveillance System (NWSS) reports a large majority of its data set of viral load in sewage plants tracked from September 9 to 23 to be in the orange and red zone of 60 percent or more of all the samples taken nationally since December 2021. That is, all those hot points on the NWSS map tell us the viral load in populations across the U.S. is now as high (and widespread) as any previous COVID peak.

On the other hand, the more acute NWSS measure of changes in SARS-2 sewage loads over the 15 days leading up to September 23 shows a mosaic of declines and increases, indicating differences at the sewershed level we still don’t understand.

NWSS tracks only 1,479 of the 16,000 publicly owned wastewater plants, which together serve at best 80 percent of the U.S. population. So, consider the NWSS map of SARS-CoV-2 loads just a snapshot.

The Walgreens COVID-19 Index of national test positivity covers both rapid tests and the more gold-standard polymerase chain reaction tests little available at this point. As of September 29, we see a decline to 21.8 percent of all tests Walgreens processes nationally from 40 percent earlier in the summer, but still as high as most points in the pandemic. The number of tests remains comparatively high, which at this late date in the pandemic may in itself serve as a measure of incidence. People are getting tested because they’re feeling sick.

There’s a geography to this. For late September, we see increases in test positivity in order of sizes of increase, in New Hampshire, Idaho, Oklahoma, Michigan, Pennsylvania and Connecticut, among other states, with New York presently hovering at 35.9 percent positive. These numbers were once available down to the county level until the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) abandoned such mapping.

Syndromic surveillance offers another view of the pandemic. We see from Epic Research hospital reports of ICD-10 codes mapped between August 25 and September 7 for COVID infections per 100,000 hospital tests, states in the South and Appalachia are getting hit relatively hard, with the national hospital positivity rate at 16 percent. Hospitals across the U.S. were once required to report in such incidences on a weekly basis. Now only a few voluntarily report.

With such reporting now blacked out, infectious disease modeler J.P. Weiland is using wastewater data from Biobot Analytics and available CDC seropositivities to project COVID cases per day in the U.S. He reports we were at over 589,000 new COVID infections for the single day of September 19.

This summer’s peak isn’t the 5 million infections a day of the first Omicron wave that Weiland estimated in late 2021, but nearly a million infections a day in early August is well within the range of nearly every other COVID peak so far. COVID isn’t tailing off one peak to the next.

Weiland hasn’t released a detailed methodology, which makes the projection’s validity unconfirmed, although the general gestalt of his time series is probably on point. If these estimates are anywhere close to reality, much more forgiving global and U.S. data should now be rated “junk” and the pandemic considered still at strength — especially, as we previously described, as the virus has been given the public health green light to continue to explore its evolutionary possibilities.

Indeed, we see the outbreak stateside continuing to evolve, with a broad mix of 22 sublineages in play, and, as projected September 28, varieties of global variant of concern KP.3 and LB.1 leading the way.

Molecular biologist Raj Rajnarayanan’s 30-day mosaic shows all the genetic sequences of detected sublineages in the U.S. as of September 27, including their geographic origins. We see the near entirety of the country hosting variant JN and its infectious FLiRT offspring, the LBs and KPs 1, 2 and 3. We see the arrival of yet another new lineage, the highly transmissible XEC.

The Real Damage of Long COVID Remains A pandemic’s outcome is a matter of pathogen and host alike. So, while we see the SARS-CoV-2 virus still chugging along, the host population it infects has largely chosen to drop out of the pandemic fight.

While COVID death rates aren’t approaching those of 2020, we are nowhere near a 2019 world as the near entirety of the U.S. establishment pretends. The Swiss Re Institute reports U.S. and U.K. excess mortality rates still at 3 percent and 2.5 percent above pre-pandemic levels.

But here we have both U.S. political parties — and both presidential candidates — placing the ongoing pandemic behind us for good, save for scoring electoral points. The feds are sunsetting bridge funding for COVID antivirals and vaccines, the latter suddenly costing $200 for the uninsured. No wonder, as Science Communications Director Lucky Tran posts, half the Americans in a recent Ipsos poll incredibly expect never to get infected again.

The mass leap away from the reality of a still deadly infection is more from a push from a government that ostensibly holds the monopoly on national health intervention. The U.S. population would likely respond otherwise if signaled so from its elected leadership. Tran reminds us that a 2022 CDC report showed people are more likely to mask when alerted about local outbreaks by public health authorities. Without alerts, on the other hand, Americans are erring on the side of little to no masking.

The resulting health toll continues to beat up the population. Health analyst Mike Hoerger of the Pandemic Mitigation Collaborative — whose models for daily COVID incidences typically run hotter than Weiland’s at 669,000 as of September 30 — projects 1 million to 4 million new Long COVID cases coming out of infections this past month alone.

Previous work showed and estimated that between 5 percent and 30 percent of people infected enter the whirlpool of a Long COVID syndrome for which few tests are available for diagnosis, and there are few prophylaxes available or in development to treat current patients.

A Patient-Led Collaborative Group preprint reporting the results of a survey of 3,300 participants found that increasing the number of SARS-CoV-2 infections a person gets increases the risks of Long COVID, worse Long COVID symptoms and greater overall impairment. Reinfections also appear to diminish the protective effects that vaccination may offer against Long COVID. Few of the surveyed reported Long COVID remission.

The damage extends beyond bodily health. The Wall Street Journal, focusing on the professional-managerial class, ran a story headlined “Long Covid Knocked a Million Americans Off Their Career Paths.”

Understandably, the article was widely retweeted by professionals who lamented their previous 60-hour work weeks and personal bests and marked how far they had fallen. Their work ethic proved no prevention against Long COVID’s siege of microclots, brain damage, cognitive collapse and post-exertional malaise that made some unable to get out of bed for weeks.

Long COVID also impacts many on the other end of the socioeconomic spectrum. A new survey of 7,000-plus adults found low-income Long COVID patients suffered greater food insecurity, especially those who didn’t participate in public food assistance programs.

It isn’t just adults suffering. New research out of the National Institutes of Health’s (NIH) RECOVER program found similar but distinguishable differences in symptoms between children and adolescents among the 5,300 youth it studied, leading RECOVER to declare Long COVID “a public health crisis” for a population some epidemiologists expediently presented as little affected by the infection.

Acknowledging Failures to Keep Them Going Noting that recent COVID deaths in the U.S. were double those of last spring, this New York Times piece from August took a meta view of the failure to see, observing that we no longer observe: “We Have Largely Moved on From Covid, but Covid Isn’t Done With Us” reads the print edition.

But such a gesture at the gap in reality that the newspaper itself helped condition offers the ruling class that effectively ended the COVID campaign permission to continue to ignore the duly noted failure.

The Times interviewed epidemiologists at the highest professional levels about the gap:

"Michael Osterholm, the director of the Center for Infectious Disease Research and Policy at the University of Minnesota, said the newfound complacency can as much be attributed to confusion as to fatigue. The virus remains remarkably unpredictable: Covid variants are still evolving much faster than influenza variants, and officials who want to “pigeonhole” Covid into having a well-defined seasonality will be unnerved to discover that the 10 surges in the United States so far have been evenly distributed throughout all four seasons, he said. Those factors, combined with waning immunity, point to a virus that still evades our collective understanding — in the context of a collective psychology that is ready to move on. Even at a meeting of 200 infectious disease experts in Washington earlier this month — a number of whom were over 65 and had not been vaccinated in four to six months — hardly anybody donned a mask."

And how did officials and the public arrive at such a confusion? After all, other scientists and practitioners standing outside the establishment’s umbrella of respectability debunked the notion that all was well and repeatedly alerted the world to the broader system’s complicit silence.

I wrote in August 2022 that Osterholm himself helped inculcate the confusion:

"Mike Osterholm, who the Times failed to identify as part of the administration’s COVID Advisory Board, converged on this courageous line: “I think [the CDC] are attempting to meet up with the reality that everyone in the public is pretty much done with this pandemic.” A reality the administration worked hard to help manufacture by deft incompetence."

The Times also interviewed epidemiologist Bill Hanage to the effect scientists were themselves confused and that allowed him the freedom of an argument by ex falso quodlibet, a principle from which any proposition can be derived from a contradiction:

"Epidemiologists have long predicted that Covid would eventually become an endemic disease, rather than a pandemic. “If you ask six epidemiologists what ‘endemic’ means, exactly, you’ll probably get about 12 answers,” said Bill Hanage, associate director of the Center for Communicable Disease Dynamics at Harvard T. H. Chan School of Public Health. “But it certainly has a sort of social definition – a virus that’s around us all the time – and if you want to take that one, then we’re definitely there.”"

Ugly sophistry. In actuality, the time series of COVID outbreaks stateside in no way represent the kind of evolutionarily predictable seasonal variants we find in endemic influenza.

And the “socially defined” endemicity to which Hanage alludes was in part of his own making. In one CNN report, we find Hanage alongside Osterholm providing Biden’s CDC cover for dropping recommendations for quarantining at home and testing people without symptoms, brandishing another fallacy:

"Bill Hanage, an epidemiologist at the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health, agrees that the new guidance shows that the CDC is trying to meet people where they are. “I think that this is a point where you actually have to sort of get real and start giving people tools they can use to do something or not. Because otherwise, people will just not take you seriously,” Hanage said."

An appeal to popularity is no epidemiological principle on which to base a response to a pandemic that’s killed anywhere from 1.2 to 1.5 million Americans.

Public Health Rebellion From Below In other words, Osterholm and Hanage and others aren’t the neutral observers they pretend to be, along with the Times.

Rather, they track disease only up to the point the political class can bear, helping bury the problem when it’s inconvenient. Liberals who are upset that science is met with public distrust might ask whether anyone concerned about outbreaks would listen to these brilliant scientists without suspicions they’re catering to other (well-funded) objectives.

How many times will these “men who stare at vaccines” ask us to run into our epidemiological walls — to reference the George Clooney movie about the Pentagon’s First Earth Battalion — as if our reductionist atoms can just pass through those of SARS-CoV-2, avian influenza, mpox, and the queue of other pathogens emerging out of an alienated nature and expropriated circuits of global production?

Vaccines are always only a part of any public health campaign, and their successful deployment depends on the very nonpharmaceutical interventions and structural changes the feds have insisted we abandon.

Figures of authority across local jurisdictions have similarly blanched. Political leaders — turning now to punishing people who continue to mask — are feeding their own health into the COVID maw held agape by establishment epidemiologists.

The best way to contact the dead in the data, these scientist “seancists” signal, is to help usher a public of biased optimists they’ve cultivated to their graves. The CDC continue to invite Americans “just this way, please,” once again adjusting down its color code scheme for its maps to imply we’re in less danger than we are.

Bipartisan rounds of strategic obfuscation follow each new COVID wave as if set as an algorithm. At this end of the U.S. cycle of accumulation, when capital cashes out and disinvests from the public commons, it’s only such manipulation that’s now endemic.

As the Pandemic ThinkTank described early in the pandemic, abandoned by the feds, we need to pursue a revolt from below. Community groups and local public health departments need to work together to reconstruct our public commons to handle the diseases and other disasters already here or on their way.

This article is licensed under Creative Commons (CC BY-NC-ND 4.0), and you are free to share and republish under the terms of the license.

[admirxation]

Broken Locks | Part 3

𓆩♡𓆪┆other parts: part one | part two | part four | part five

𓆩♡𓆪┆pairing: las plagas! yandere! re4! leon s. kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

𓆩♡𓆪┆summary: Leon has managed to “punish” the reader into having feelings for him, while she knows this is wrong, the part of her brain wanting to give in is slowly taking over her mentality.

𓆩♡𓆪┆word count: 2.3k

𓆩♡𓆪┆disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! i do not condone everything i write, my writing doesn’t reflect all my morals. if any of the following warnings trigger or make you feel uncomfortable, scroll away; you are in charge of what content you’re consuming. this is 18+ only, minors are strongly advised not to interact.

𓆩♡𓆪┆warnings: nsfw 18+, mdni. female anatomy and she/her pronouns used for reader. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Noncon, kidnapping, traumatic memories, knife play, injury (f receiving), oral (f receiving), fingering, f strips in front of m, forced pregnancy/motherhood & Stockholm syndrome.

𓆩♡𓆪┆note: parts of the story that are bold and in italics is a flashback before anyone gets confused <3

Chapter three: my possession

These conditions were inhumane, dehumanising, something out of a horror novel, and you wished it was just a story; wishing what you were going through would just be something you could close and forget about, but no, you were currently enduring a never-ending story of entrapment and fear.

Nights were getting worse, your freedom being withered a long time ago but your yearning to be let go grew stronger with every second Leon possessed your body — objectifying it for his own gaze to treat you like a toy that only he could touch.

You couldn’t do anything with Leon’s eyes watching or trapping and limiting your movement; he wouldn’t let you shower without him watching, no privacy when you dressed, and every single night he would sleep next to you and have his arm around you all night. When he was sound asleep you would never challenge and take chances; he had already shown you plenty of reasons to not challenge, so you laid there and cried yourself to sleep, hearing his shallow breaths linger down your spine and keep you cold and fearful.

Leon knew you weren’t happy with these conditions, but he didn’t want anything to change, so he tried to win your love. Every single time he would punish you for trying to escape, talking back to him, or not obeying his every demand — he would give you a gift that any woman would be head over heels for. Last time it was all the skin care you could want, then it was new pyjamas, then cakes from a bakery; you hated yourself every time you gave him a smile and hugged him, no one had ever bought things like this for you and you were aware of why Leon was doing this, but you couldn’t help but admire all these new things and how far Leon was going to impress you. But you weren’t totally won over, the memories of the punishments stained your mind, and it was getting harder and harder to not surrender to Leon completely and accept your fate.

You were sitting on your bed — your ankle still attached to the radiator — and was lifeless. No movement, staring at the blank wall, but while you looked emotionless on the outer peripheral, there was a storm of trauma and turmoil brewing in your mind, screaming for someone to just help you.

You were remembering what happened last night, the way Leon took you for his own and left you vandalised and violated; your head was spinning with constant memories, making a mark in the temporal lobe. You buried your head in your hands as your mind kept haunting you with Leon’s actions.

“No Leon, please stop!” you continuously exclaimed as Leon kept trying to mount himself on top of you, stopping your efforts to move your hands away from his to stop him from pinning you down and making you more vulnerable.

“Come on, I don’t like the chase,” pure venom was lingering in his words, he was sweet to you during the day and did everything he can but when his thirst came, he became a different person whose only aim was to take everything from you and discard you after — until he needed to be satisfied again.

You remembered the way his rough fingers tightened around your wrists, making you wince in pain with how hard he pressed his nails into your skin, making more markings of his “possession”. He ignored your pleas every single night; there was no point but there was that little part of your brain that wished he would recognise what he was doing was immoral, and have some compassion for you… But he never did, it was always the same.

A favourite thing he loved to do was scare you, not with just verbal threats, but physically threatening your life by pulling out a knife and using it to make you moan and cry in pain.

“Leon, please no, I’m begging you!” you only needed to see that godforsaken knife to know what he was going to do with it, it was the fear in your eyes which gave Leon a thrill, a glimmer of lust and sin clouding those previously innocent blue eyes.

“Speak when you’re spoken to,” he reached for the bedside table while holding onto your wrists with little to no effort, reaching for the ducktape to place around your mouth, “if you’re going to act like a brat… I’ll treat you like one,” your mouth was now covered and muffled screams were now protruding from your mouth; sadly, you knew these screams for help were futile.

Your fingers tightened into a fist as you recounted everything Leon had done to you, your eyes watering and your lip quivering as you tried to stop the flood of tears that were about to stream at any minute.

As Leon looked at your helpless state — tape around your mouth and wrists — he watched you tighten your thighs; he smirked, finding it amusing how you would always try, even though your efforts would constantly fail.

“You’ve been a bad girl, haven’t you,” your eyes watered, “You know what’s going to happen… You act like a brat, you get a brat’s punishment,” he furrowed his eyebrows as you watched your body, putting his hands around either thigh and separating them, positioning himself in the middle of your legs.

You took a deep breath as you tried to accept what you knew was going to happen; you lived in a replay of life, a routine of violation and a lack of care. You closed your eyes as Leon watched you, needing you to satisfy his thirst and hunger; the parasite screamed and conquered his mind every time it needed you.

Leon glided the cold blade of his knife along your body, making you gasp when the freezing and sharp blade trickled down your skin. Leon was careful, starting at your throat and moving it down your breasts, stomach, and then your pussy. He flipped it around, then pressed the handle to your clit; with every ounce of your being you tried not to give in, but as always your body betrayed you and invited Leon with your pussy becoming wetter as the handle was caressed on your swollen clit and wet slit.

That night all started with your attempted escape, something you wish you never did after enduring the consequences of your actions. A few moments before Leon had taken your body, you had tried to remove the shackle permanently accessorised on you; you saw a sharp edge on the radiator, knowing it wasn’t going to do much but wanting to try anything to get you out of there. You pressed one chain interlink in a back-and-forth motion seeing some dust come off as you got lost in the thought of going to the police and alerting them of everything you had endured.

But he soon caught up with your plans.

You didn’t realise, but Leon had heard from downstairs, looking at you as he stood in the doorway.

“What are you doing?” your heart sunk to your stomach, goosebumps covering your skin as you paused in your tracks.

“I-I… Leon please, I won’t run I just need this off —” he cut you off, rushing over to you, grabbing you by the throat and pulling you onto the bed to punish you, “Leon please, please, please!”

“You’ve proved you cannot be trusted you fucking whore!”

Tears were streaming down your face now, but you could finally let your tears be free with Leon being gone to “pick some things up”; you were happy to finally have a bit of privacy to be vulnerable and emotional, even if it was limited.

You curled up into a ball of vulnerability, the pillow case being soaked with a puddle of your tears when the memories kept flashing; you couldn’t take it anymore, it was too much. What really ate at you was actually liking how Leon felt when he had his way with you; you hated how everything had to be on his terms, no longer having autonomy, but your body always invited him, getting wetter the more Leon would play with your figure.

“When are you going to realise you’re mine,” Leon said as he slipped his finger along your slit, a line of slick tracing on his index finger, enticing Leon to have a taste.

You stood there with no movement — frozen in time — but your body kept reacting to Leon. You squeezed your eyes shut as Leon slipped his tongue along your folds, your back arching as he circled the tip of his tongue around your swollen clit, smirking as he felt you getting wetter and your legs shaking as he quickened the pace. You kept trying to keep your moans in, grabbing fistfuls of the blanket and biting your lip to not encourage Leon anymore — but it was no use, your body wanted the ecstasy and excitement he was giving you, and you didn’t want to deny that feeling anymore. Leon then entered a finger inside your wet hole, causing you to release a moan while you were under his control; he inserted another, and another the more you opened up for him — he had you around his little finger now and there was nothing you could do about it.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You couldn’t help but wonder if anyone cared if Derek actually contacted the police if Jill was wondering where you went; you wanted to believe that people cared and that there were search parties for you, but the little voice in your head was saying that you would be alone with Leon… Forever. This thought only made you cry even more; you shuffled in the bedsheets, not reacting when you saw Leon standing in the doorway, staring at your puffy and red eyes, curled up like a child.

“Oh sweetheart, there’s no need to cry, I’m here,” he walked closer to you, his fingers combing through your hair; you didn’t react, you had no energy to fight or say anything, waiting for whatever Leon would do. “I was thinking, how about I unlock that shackle, and run you a bath… Just promise you won’t run.”

You were excited by this, an actual moment you could get something and feel some sense of normality.

“I won’t… I learnt my lesson,” you said with a shallow breath.

“Good girl,” he kissed you on the cheek.

He unlocked the shackle, and the sound of the metal hitting the floorboard made exhilaration course through your body — but the desire to run was not there, you stayed put, knowing Leon was watching for any sudden movements or seeing if you looked at the door. He was pleased when he saw you just looked at him, waiting for him to give you permission.

You walked into the bathroom with him, seeing that Leon had run you a lovely warm bath; he put a bath bomb in, candles around the edge, helping you get undressed and get into the bath. You couldn’t help but love this side of Leon.

“Maybe I do have it good here, he cares for me,” you thought as you sat in the warm water, having Leon helping you get clean, rubbing the shampoo in your hair and having the water trickle down your skin. It felt amazing, but you couldn’t help but burst into tears, having your knees curl under your chin as you broke down, having Leon widen his eyes and wonder what he did.

“What’s wrong sweetheart,” he took a while until he spoke again, “If it’s about earlier, I’m sorry, I’ll protect you, I’m here for you… I just want you to realise that you won’t have to do anything but stay with me,” your tears started to calm down.

“Okay… I won’t leave,” you finally surrendered.

“Can you promise me one thing?” you looked over at him.

“Yes, Leon.”

“Please be the best mother you can be,” he placed a hand on your stomach, and your whole world collapsed there and then.

Those words circled around your head, making your body language and movements freeze, with no emotion in your eyes or facial expressions.

“I-I… I’m going to be a… mother,” you felt sick when the word “mother” came out of your mouth. You never thought about kids in great detail, and you hadn’t been with anyone to think of this topic in great detail, but you did know that this wasn’t the ideal situation to be a mother. To bear the child of your abuser… Who you were slowly getting attached to.

“Yes, darling,” he pulled a piece of paper out of his jean pocket, showing you the documents to confirm the pregnancy, you had no idea when Leon collected this data but his methods weren’t in the front of your thoughts at the moment; you were thinking about motherhood, how a human being was actually forming inside of you, and what Leon would be like as a father, thinking if you would get more freedom when you birthed the child.

“Please don’t punish me here but,” Leon looked at you with innocent eyes, the darker veins being faint, only visible when he was manhandling you in the bedroom, “Will I be able to walk around the house freely, I can’t stay in this room any longer,” you felt a lump in your throat as you spoke to him.

“Yes, you will have more freedom just don’t go —”

“I won’t… I’ve learnt my lesson… I’ll stay here.”

He stroked his hand through your hair: “That’s my girl, I love you,” you paused for a moment.

“…I love you too, Leon,” the words were difficult to come out, but it didn’t feel totally wrong to say, like it was almost natural and wanted.

my links: masterlist | ao3 profile | kofi

a/n: sorry that this took so long to get out, my mental health has kinda been on the rocks lately but i’m trying my best to get out of the funk and post. please like and reblog (i rlly appreciate it and it rlly helps), have a nice day/evening <3

©︎ admirxation. please do not copy or steal my works.

[mariacallous]

For the apotheosis of his entire “poisoning of the blood” campaign, Donald Trump has planned a spectacular extravaganza in Madison Square Garden on 27 October, a week before the election. When JD Vance sings Trump’s fulsome praises to introduce him, his ominous tribute will not inspire comparison to the night in the Garden of 19 May 1962, when Marilyn Monroe sang Happy Birthday, Mr President to John F Kennedy.

Trump’s climactic rally will not be in the spirit of any past presidential event ever held there. His gathering for the great racist replacement theory will be the culmination of his spiraling descent since the Charlottesville rally in 2017 when neo-Nazis chanted, “Jews will not replace us.” “Fine people on both sides,” Trump said then. Now, at his night at the Garden, Trump will revive the memory of the infamous American Nazi mass rally held there on 20 February 1939 through his reflected Hitlerian rhetoric.

In the last week, Trump has pledged to deploy the military against “the enemy within”, domestic opponents he claims are worse than foreign adversaries – those Hitler called “Feind des Volkes”, or “enemy of the people”. Trump has threatened to destroy CBS, ABC and the New York Times. About ABC, after it conducted the debate in which he performed disastrously, he called to “take away their license”. After Kamala Harris’s 60 Minutes interview, having refused his own, he tweeted on 10 October: “TAKE AWAY THE CBS LICENSE.” About the Times, he said on 9 October: “Wait until you see what I’m going to do with them.” He has singled out by name journalists for the Times and the New Yorker as “FAKE OBAMA LOVING ‘JOURNALISTS”. At every rally he denounces the “fake news”, a drumbeat for years, echoing Hitler’s pejorative slur, “die Lügenpresse” – “the lying press”.

Trump traveled on 11 October to Aurora, Colorado, where he claimed a Venezuelan gang had seized control, “scum” and “animals” who have “invaded and conquered” and “infected” the town, a description dismissed as false by its Republican mayor. “We have to clean out our country,” said Trump. His language represented the Nazi idea of “Rassenhygiene” – “race cleansing” that required purification, not an academic interest in genetics but a program of eugenics for designating inferior races to be isolated or eliminated.

As Hitler wrote in Mein Kampf, “A people that fails to preserve the purity of its racial blood thereby destroys the unity of the soul of the nation in all its manifestations. A disintegrated national character is the inevitable consequence of a process of disintegration in the blood.”

The former chairman of the joint chiefs of staff, retired general Mark Milley, according to Bob Woodward in his new book War, told the veteran journalist: “No one has ever been as dangerous to this country as Donald Trump. Now I realize he’s a total fascist. He is the most dangerous person to this country.” Trump had stated that for Milley’s communication with his counterparts in China on January 6 to reassure them that the US military was stable, he deserved “DEATH” – to be executed.

On 14 October, retired general Mike Flynn – Trump’s former national security adviser, whom he pardoned for failing to register as a foreign agent and obstructing justice – was asked at a Christian nationalist rally for Trump whether he would preside over military tribunals in a second Trump term to “not only drain the swamp, but imprison the swamp, and on a few occasions, execute the swamp”. “Believe me,” Flynn replied, “the gates of hell – my hell – will be unleashed.”

Trump has been inevitably drawn to the Garden, in the city that made and unmade him. He is irreversibly entrapped in his endless neurotic syndrome of desperately seeking approval there that he constantly repels and success he inexorably undermines, a cycle of failure, rejection and humiliation. He wants New York to love him unreservedly, but his relationship with the city has been one long unrequited romance. His true love affair has always and only been with himself. When he does not receive the adoration he feels he deserves, he hates New York. Then, he tries to win its love again by performing a disgusting act, which, when he is predictably rejected, triggers his anger once again. And, then, he engages in gestures of infantile defiance, like holding a Nazi-esque rally. Trying to show himself triumphant over the city, he invites its scorn once again, and again, and again. He never comprehends that he is the cause of his continuing narcissistic injuries.

Trump’s rally, through the rhyme of history, will be a rebuke to the greatest campaign speech delivered by Franklin D Roosevelt, which, though given 88 years ago in the Garden on 31 October 1936, rings remarkably contemporary, a speech for “the restoration of American democracy” and its “preservation”.

“We have not come this far without a struggle and I assure you we cannot go further without a struggle,” FDR said. “We know now that government by organized money is just as dangerous as government by organized mob. Never before in all our history have these forces been so united against one candidate as they stand today. They are unanimous in their hate for me – and I welcome their hatred.”

Three years after FDR spoke at the Garden, another rally was held there, on 20 February 1939, under the sponsorship of the German American Bund, raising the slogan of “America First”, to advance the great replacement theory that Jews and other “inferior races” were displacing white Aryans. The Nazis claimed the mantle of true Americanism and Christian nationalism. Swastikas framed a gigantic portrait of George Washington as the backdrop to the stage. From the balcony hung a banner: “Stop Jewish Domination of Christian America.” “Wake up!” shouted the Führer of the Bund, Fritz Kuhn, “you, Aryan, Nordic and Christians, to demand that our government be returned to the people who founded it!”

Gerhard Wilhelm Kunze, the Bund’s public relations director, declared that white supremacy was the essential basis of the nation. “The spirit which opened the west and built our country is the spirit of the militant white man,” he said, citing racial segregation and immigration quotas as its bulwarks. “It has then always been very much American to protect the Aryan character of this nation.”

In 2019, a seven-minute documentary about the Nazi rally of 1939, A Night at the Garden, was nominated for an Academy Award. To promote it, a 30-second TV ad was produced with the tagline: “It Can Happen Here.” The line was a reference to Sinclair Lewis’s 1935 novel, It Can’t Happen Here, about a populist demagogue defeating FDR and imposing a fascist regime. Lewis’s wife, the famous journalist Dorothy Thompson, a columnist for the New York Herald Tribune, who had reported on the rise of Hitler, pointedly attended the Nazi rally. “I saw an exact duplicate of it in the Berlin Sports Palast in 1931,” she wrote.

When the film distributor of A Night at the Garden sought to buy time for a spot on Fox News, its CEO, Suzanne Scott, rejected it as “not appropriate for our air”. After the 2020 election, during Trump’s ramping up to the January 6 insurrection, she ordered that Fox News suppress factchecking his lies because it was “bad for business”.

Now, in his announcement of his night at the Garden, Trump advertised a clipped version of the replacement theory, declaring that New York was “reeling” from “Kamala’s reckless open-border policies”, “flooding” the city with criminal “illegal migrants”. For nearly a $1m contribution to attend the event, the top tier, donors are promised an “Ultra MAGA Experience”, details to follow.

Trump’s Maga rally will be the first time since the 1939 Nazi rally that the same themes of the replacement theory will echo in the Garden. But his closing argument is more than Nazi cosplay. He cannot help but reveal his deepest desire to be loved and then to fling the middle finger to the city whose unconditional admiration he has sought since he first crossed the Queensboro Bridge.

Trump’s permanent physical move to Palm Beach after his failed coup in 2020 has not transformed him into a contented Florida Man. To the inveterate New Yorker, the Sunshine state is strictly for snowbirds, God’s waiting room for shuffleboarders. Mar-a-Lago, his winter escape, has become his unnatural embittering palace-in-exile. Florida represents disgrace to Trump.

Trump’s emotional journey back to the White House must travel through New York. He has nothing but contempt and indifference for Washington. He despises policy, flaunts his ignorance and detests anyone who has ever tried to temper him, from four-star generals to Republican congressional leaders. He wants the pomp without the circumstance. January 6 played out Trump’s true view of the capital.

Trump plots his night at the Garden as the climax of his comeback tour. He may have been president, but never top of the heap. Roy Cohn could tell him how to skirt the law and ingratiate himself with the mob, but Cohn was not a Virgil to guide his protege to respectability. Trump’s lowlife publicity antics, tutored by Cohn, made him into one of the revolving cast of characters populating tabloid trash. The larger the headline of the sordid story about himself, the bigger Trump’s delusion that kitsch burnished his class. He was always crestfallen when his frolics did not win his admission into the club.

Trump has only been truly comfortable strutting in his old New York, conning and threatening, greasing the palms of the mafia, stiffing his contractors and workers, while trying to buy his way into society affairs. Time and again, the city spat him out. He was ridiculed and reviled. He went bust six times. He defaulted on the Trump Shuttle. The banks denied him loans. He had to sell his yacht named for his daughter, The Princess. His brutish father, who financed his wild ventures, throwing good money after bad, had to buy chips illegally to momentarily float his sinking Atlantic City casino. He dumped two wives. He allegedly sexually assaulted dozens of women. When he tried to lowball Frank Sinatra, an idol, Ol’ Blue Eyes told him, “Go fuck yourself.”

After Trump had plunged in what seemed to be his final bankruptcy, he was rescued by a TV producer, Mark Burnett, who created the reality TV show The Apprentice, which depicted Trump as a business genius reigning over the Manhattan skyline. The sheer fiction was the veneer that enabled his grubby lucrative product placement side deals. His motive for running for president was a branding scam gone haywire.

Now, he has returned to the city on his road to redemption. Yet, so far, he has been held accountable for his vast crimes only in New York. He has been found liable for defamation and sexual assault and termed an adjudicated rapist by the judge in the E Jean Carroll case, and ordered to pay $83.3m in damages plus continuing interest; found liable of widespread financial fraud and ordered to pay $364m for ill-gotten gains plus continuing interest; and convicted of 34 felony counts of financial fraud for hush-money payments, to a porn star and Playboy model with whom he had affairs, in order to affect the outcome of the 2016 election.

Once again, he intends to prove himself in the city that never sleeps, the city that will give him another shot at murdering someone on Fifth Avenue and getting away with it. A star is reborn.

These little town blues are melting away I’m gonna make a brand-new start of it in old New York And if I can make it there, I’m gonna make it anywhere It’s up to you, New York, New York

Trump now says that if he loses he will blame the unappreciative Jews – he hasn’t been “treated right” by the Jews and their support for Democrats is a “curse”. But Trump, who has picked up a few Yiddish words, uses them unconsciously like a native New Yorker. On 2 January 2021, he displayed his proficiency in his notorious telephone call with the Georgia secretary of state, Brad Raffensperger, in which he sought to intimidate him into committing election fraud to switch the state’s voting results.

“So look,” said Trump. “All I want to do is this. I just want to find 11,780 votes, which is one more than we have.”

Raffensperger resisted Trump’s strong-arming, the Georgia outcome stood, and four days later Trump incited the assault on the Capitol in a last-ditch effort to thwart the certification of the election: “Hang Mike Pence!” Trump has since been indicted in Georgia for election fraud, a case in legal purgatory until after the 2024 election.

Twice, during his call with Raffensperger, Trump derided the Republican governor, Brian Kemp, who refused to be complicit in Trump’s scheme, by calling him a “schmuck”. Perhaps the word was lost on Trump’s listeners. According to Leo Rosten’s The Joy of Yiddish, it carries several meanings, including “penis” and “a dope, a jerk, a boob, a clumsy bumbling fellow”. Rosten wrote that “few impolite words express comparable contempt”.

Now, New Yorkers can only wonder, what kind of schmuck holds a Nazi-esque rally in Madison Square Garden?

[purplehanfu]

The Snow Moon: Episode 1

notes: Spoilers! Hey, I know that guy! Master list of all recaps

Fox demons- they do get around don't they? In this 10 minute per episode drama, we learn that a fox demon has managed the ultimate promotion- to emperor. Did he do it for the power? The glory? The sweet wardrobe? Or did he do it so he could scour the country for the mysterious woman in a painting he's obsessed with? I won't keep you in suspense, it's that last one!

Fox Demon, Emperor, this year's winner of the Scorpion King Excellence in Eyeliner Award: Bo Qiu.

But let's start this tale from the beginning:

We begin by meeting our female lead Su Xiao Huan, who is grifting a group of townsfolk by first spinning outrageous tales of the dastardly doings of the fox demon emperor and then claiming that she can eliminate him (for a fee).

5 minutes later...

The townspeople see through her scam and leave in disgust. But handsome newcomer Lord Qiansui (and his personal assistant and/or assassin-on-call) is delighted to have found an old friend, even if she doesn't recognize him.

Su Xiao Huan is happy to leave with him, but less than happy to hear about his plan to entrap the fox demon.

He wants to send her to the palace to serve him- not like a servant or even in a creepy concubine way- more like in a To Serve Man way. Yes, he wants to offer her up as a snack. Su Xiao Huan has bitten off more than she can chew and finds herself entering the palace.

Once there, she meets Bo Qiu, the Fox Demon Emperor. Bo Qui realizes Su Xiao Huan is the woman from the painting, but she doesn't remember him at all.

Su Xiao Huan, for her part, is more concerned with not being consumed.

Threats like this will become a wellspring of flirtation in subsequent episodes (example below)

Finally we get what I thought was going to be a montage of their shared past, but just turned out to be the ending theme because these episodes are short! (I do think some of these scenes are flashbacks though)

When there was only one set of footprints, it was the fox demon emperor lugging your ass through the snowy landscape while the outro music played.

The Good

I love the low cut, slightly slutty way Bo Qiu is wearing his robes

Su Xiao Huan has a cute pet hedgehog

The Bad

you can't fuel a drama on hotness alone (but you can coast on the fumes of hotness until you reach the gas station of a better drama)

the hedgewiggle exhibits more acting ability than some of the cast

Hedgehog seen here giving us classic second male lead syndrome.

Final Thoughts

Imma keep watching it.

Master list of all recaps