#Faust and What Followed

[binah-beloved]

despairful day. remember to take comfort in anything that brings you joy. for me, that is Binah. for you, it might also be Binah. that is alright. she has hugs enough for all.

[anabundanceofsquids]

Permission to vroom-vroom?

[loosesodamarble]

Don't Tell Me "Goodbye"

Summary: Words are something special to Josele. Recently, Morgen's words have hurt her. Genre: hurt/comfort, romance Word count: ~3700

..........

The training field of the Grey Deer base was filled with the aroma of freshly cut grass and morning dew. The sun was rising above the horizon. Josele bathed in the early light as she practiced her sword techniques. She stepped forward and thrust her blade forward. Her hand and stance were steady as usual.

Josele picked up the faint sound of brisk but light footsteps approaching from her left. She looked up and immediately smiled. Standing on the elevated patio that led out of the squad base and down to the training field was Morgen.

“Good morning, my dearest heart,” Morgen said from his position above Josele.

“With a beautiful sunrise like the one I see, it certainly is good,” she playfully flirted in reply.

Morgen chuckled. “Have you any idea what your words do to me?”

“They make you smile,” answered Josele. “And that’s the point.”

“Why you…” Morgen shook his head. He stepped onto the patio’s railing then jumped down, cushioning his fall with a bit of Light Magic. Once grounded, Morgen approached Josele with outstretched arms and hasted steps. “Come here now!”

“Ack! Wait, Morgen! I’m all sweaty!” Josele exclaimed and flinched, dropping her sword at the same time. However, she made no move to evade her boyfriend. Trying to run from a Light Mage was a losing battle after all.

“It’s of no concern to me.” Morgen closed the distance and wrapped his arms around Josele’s waist. He pulled Josele’s body against his and rested his chin on her shoulder. “You could be in a worse state and I’d still hold you this close, closer even.” Morgen raised his head and kissed Josele’s sweat-covered brow.

Josele let out a squeak before resting her hands and head on Morgen’s chest. Morgen laughed. The sound rippled through his body which Josele felt. How she loved to feel Morgen. From the smooth texture of his hair to the relaxing coolness of his hands, he felt as beautiful as he looked. There was more to it, still. Holding Morgen, or being held by him in this case, made the rest of the world disappear for Josele. And some days, the worst of days, she always sought out Morgen for the sanctuary that was his presence.

“Now…” Morgen stepped back. He tilted Josele’s head up to look him in the eyes before taking her hands in his own. “I didn’t just come by to say ‘good morning.’ I’m here to tell you that I have to leave for a mission.”

“Ah, alright then,” Josele said while nodding. “Do a great job as usual. And take care of yourself.”

“I shall.” Morgen placed his chin on Josele’s shoulder again and gave her a squeeze. “For you, my sweet.”

The couple stepped back, grinning at each other. Their hands moved so their fingers intertwined. Then, Josele raised herself on the tips of her toes to which Morgen responded by leaning down so their foreheads touched. They smiled again after they drew apart.

“Right then,” Morgen muttered as his fingers slipped away from Josele’s. He began to walk away. As he left, he waved over his shoulder and called out, “Goodbye, Josele.”

With his back turned, Morgen didn’t see the way Josele’s smile fell from her face. Josele’s gaze landed on the ground. She rubbed her arms and furrowed her brow.

“Yeah… ‘Goodbye’…”

...

It was just another day for Morgen and Josele. After a long morning of patrolling and running errands for the squad, the couple took some time for themselves. They were in the Light Mage’s room, cuddling on the couch and their arms around each other.

“Are you getting tired, my heart?” asked Morgen while he moved his hand up and down Josele’s back.

“Mhm… Only ‘cause you’re so warm…” Josele sighed and nuzzled her face against Morgen’s shoulder. “Stop… I’m gonna…”

“Take a well deserved nap if I have a say in the matter.” Morgen kissed his girlfriend’s crown. “Rest, dear.”

Josele said nothing. Instead, she nodded against Morgen’s body.

The room fell quiet. Perfectly, relaxingly quiet.

Kreeeee…

Instantly, Josele and Morgen sat up at attention before the door fully opened to let in Julius and Yami. The Dark Mage looked at Morgen and Josele skeptically and crossed his arms. Of course Yami would suspect something.

“Good afternoon, kids!” Julius greeted and waved. “Here to steal Morgen for a quick patrol! You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not, sir,” Morgen replied. He left the couch to grab his squad robe and grimoire from his desk. He then circled back to the couch. Morgen knelt down and grasped Josele’s hand. “I’m off now, Josie.”

“I’ll see you later.” With her free hand, Josele smoothed down Morgen’s bangs. “Until then, you take care of yourself, ‘kay sunrise?”

“Certainly.” Morgen brought Josele’s hand up. His lips brushed the back of her hand and knuckles a few times in quick succession. “I bid you farewell now.”

With those parting words, Morgen left with Yami and Julius.

Josele brought the hand that Morgen kissed to her chest and touched the still warm spot. Her heart had almost fluttered from Morgen’s gesture. But it felt as if it had been harshly squeezed instead. Josele slumped on the couch and sighed.

…

Josele affixed her sword and dagger onto her belt. She’d been assigned to a joint mission alongside some knights from other squads and was asked to meet them at the Magic Knight Headquarters for the mission briefing. Being her first mission with knights from outside the Grey Deer, she felt antsy but looked forward to the opportunity. Once she was prepared, she made her way to the door. However, the door was opened from the outside.

“Josie!” Morgen entered the room and threw his arms around Josele. “I heard. I wish I could go with you but—”

“Thanks, Morgen, but I’ve got it.” Josele hugged Morgen and patted his back reassuringly. “I’ll come back in one piece. For you.”

Morgen pulled away just enough to put his hands on Josele’s face.

“For yourself, too!” he exclaimed. His brows were furrowed together in concern. “You have to stay safe for your sake too.”

“Right…” Josele said with a fond sigh. “Sorry. I keep forgetting—” She suddenly stepped back. “I gotta get going!”

“Ack!” Morgen flushed, seeing that he was keeping Josele from leaving. “Right right right!”

“I’ll see you later! Take care of yourself until then!” Josele yelled and ran out of her room.

“Bye, Josele!”

The words made Josele pause for a second in the hall. She shook her head and started to move again, trying to ignore the tightness in her chest.

...

Morgen had received a summons from his parents. Something about a family matter, no further elaboration than that. Nothing out of the ordinary for Vincent and Adela Faust to be vague and reticent. And because the matter was firmly for those of House Faust, Josele wasn’t allowed to join the visit.

“Perhaps we should make our own visit at a later date,” Morgen mused as he picked out a broom from the squad’s storeroom. “It’s been a while since we’ve gone to see Nacht, after all.”

“Nacht hasn’t come to the base either. He better not think he’s gotten too cool for us,” Josele said with a sigh. “I mean, he is cool, but we are too, right?” Her face warmed up and she glanced away. “And I wanna stay, you know…” I want to keep him in my life. Or maybe it’s more that I want to stay in Nacht’s life.

Morgen reached over and caressed Josele’s cheek, bringing her from her thoughts.

“I’ll let him know that you’re missing him,” Morgen assured Josele. He stroked his thumb across Josele’s skin. “He can’t ignore your breaking heart if he’s told outright.”

“Uhp! Momo!” Josele felt her face go from warm to hot. It only got worse when she heard Morgen chuckle. “Why’d you say it like that?” His words were more than accurate. It did hurt to think of Nacht pulling away from her. For even though she and Morgen were dating, her heart also danced for Nacht.

Morgen laughed for another moment and then drew Josele in close to peck her cheek.

“You’re adorable,” was the only response Morgen gave.

The couple walked out of the storeroom and towards the base’s front entrance, hand-in-hand the whole way. A few times during the stroll, Morgen moved his thumb along the back of Josele’s hand. Just as they reached the entrance, Morgen instead drew a small heart on Josele’s skin. The girl giggled then returned the gesture.

“Time for me to go,” Morgen said as he sat on his broom.

“Take care. I’ll be here waiting,” Josele replied with a warm smile.

“Goodbye, love.”

Riding into the sky on the broom, Morgen once again seemed to miss the sight of Josele’s expression falling into one of sadness.

...

In the days that followed, Josele continued to encounter the same unsettling forlornness that happened whenever Morgen left her.

“Farewell,” Morgen would say before letting go of Josele’s hand.

He’d give a “I’ll be off” while turning his back to her.

The word “goodbye” became intertwined with the emptiness that followed a parting kiss.

Morgen spoke those words to Josele with all of his usual gentleness. Yet when she heard them, it felt cold. Like Morgen was pulling away from her. It made her heart clench.

When she thought of all those instances together, of the sound of Morgen’s voice telling her “goodbye”…

Josele tried to hold her head high as she walked through the halls of the squad base. But her breath caught on her throat. And the only thing keeping her hands from shaking was balling them into fists around the hem of her shirt.

I’m being silly getting hung up on this, Josele told herself. My feelings are getting the better of me. That has to be it. She released the fabric in her hands and began rubbing her arms. It’s not like Morgen’s abandoning me! He’s just saying goodbye! That’s all! I can’t go thinking that every time will be the last. That’s so messed up! In the middle of the hall, Josele stopped and slapped herself on the face.

For a moment, she stayed that way. Standing with her hands covering her cheeks and thinking.

But… “Goodbye” and “farewell” are such an ugly words. They sound so final. I don’t want that for me and Morgen. Josele’s shoulders slumped. If I don’t like goodbyes because I love Morgen, that makes it okay, right?

Trapped between thinking herself silly and thinking herself justified, Josele felt dragged down.

“What are you—?”

“Gyaaaah!” Without a second thought, Josele whirled around and aimed a punch for the stomach level.

Now turned around, Josele saw that it was Yami whom she had attacked. The young man grunted and stumbled backwards, a hand on his stomach.

“Dammit Jo, you’ve got a nasty arm there,” Yami said through gritted teeth.

“Oh. It’s you.” Josele turned away from him. “Sorry Yami.”

“Hah?” Yami stepped closer to Josele and gave her shoulder a smack. “What’s with you?”

“Whadya’ mean by that?” asked Josele, raising a brow in Yami’s direction.

“Your ki. It’s all ‘uuuggghhh’ and ‘owuuuooh.’ Like that,” Yami answered while making a face to match the dreary noises he’d used. “You’ve been moody these last few days actually. You good?”

Josele immediately shook her head without a word.

“Heh, well why not have Lover Boy kiss you better, huh?” Yami laughed, as if he’d told a joke. “I’m sure Morgen would love to have an excuse to spoil you.”

At the sound of that name, Josele let out a sigh. It was, at the same time, loving and sorrowful.

“I… need a moment,” she said before walking away. Yami’s right. Morgen shows me so much love already. So if I’m feeling this way… Maybe… All of a sudden, she felt sick.

As for Yami, he was left confused and with a bruise forming on his torso.

...

Morgen had at first thought he was merely seeing things. Or that his worry had infected his imagination and created false scenarios that superseded reality. As time went on though, Morgen became certain that what he perceived was in fact real.

The unfortunate matter was that Morgen found himself to be the cause of anxiety for his beloved Josele.

Morgen felt certain of it. It was clear in the way Josele clung to him a little tighter when they embraced. In how Josele’s eyes stayed locked with his own recently. Whenever they had to part ways, Morgen stole glances back at his beloved and oftentimes, he took in the sight of Josele’s head bowed or shoulders slumped, as if disappointed. Her whole being seemed to have grown dim as well.

Worse yet, it had taken far too long for Morgen to notice the decline in Josele’s mood. He wasn’t sure when it started but he’d only begun to notice Josele’s melancholy one week ago. And he only recently became sure that he wasn’t imagining it all.

Some boyfriend I’m turning out to be, Morgen scolded himself as he walked to Josele’s room. I’ve failed to comfort her. And since she never brought it up with me, she might not think I would hear her out.

Morgen guessed that it had to do with how many jobs they were assigned to separately. He found the matter unpleasant himself. It wasn’t as though Morgen needed to be with Josele all day, everyday. But it was dispiriting for him and Josele to be in the same squad yet rarely get a chance to work alongside each other. What made it his fault specifically, Morgen thought, was that he must not have been spending enough time with Josele outside of work to make up for it.

Now that he knew there was in fact a problem, Morgen wished to address it.

Morgen knocked on Josele’s door as soon as he reached it.

“Heart, it’s me. May I come in?” Morgen asked.

“Come right on in!” Josele called from inside.

Josele sat at her desk, a sheet of paper and pen set to the side. She looked at Morgen with a loving warmth in her eyes as usual but the smile on her face was weaker.

“Hello, sunrise. What brings you by?” Josele asked.

Saying nothing, Morgen walked up to Josele then knelt by her chair. He took her hands in his and kissed each one.

“Is there something on your mind, dear?” asked Morgen as he looked Josele in the eye. “I’m sorry for not noticing sooner but you’ve been upset lately, haven’t you?”

Josele’s eyes widened for a second before her whole countenance sank in sorrow.

“Yeah, but… I’m just being stupid right now,” Josele mumbled and glanced away. “It’s not—”

“It is important to me if you’re in distress,” Morgen insisted. He smiled at Josele. To show that he cared, that he would be there for her in that moment and in the future. “I’m all ears, my love. So please…”

In a moment of silence, Josele scooted out of her chair to sit on the floor beside Morgen. Their hands never parted as they shifted to sit more comfortably.

“It has to do with you, Morgen, but it’s not like you’re at fault or anything,” Josele whispered. Her eyes looked away from Morgen, gazing elsewhere in the room. However, he could see the tears forming in them. ���I just don’t like it when you leave lately.”

Morgen hummed and nodded, indicating for Josele to continue. He had been on the right track. But it was clear there was more to the story.

“I know we can’t always be together but whenever you have to go, I get… insecure. I know you always do, but a part of me worries that you won’t come back one day.” Josele took a deep breath and was visibly holding back her tears. “It’s not just the fact that you leave. The thing is—”

The door slammed open and Vice Captain Jien stepped in.

“Faust, you’re needed for a mission,” he stated sternly.

“Vice Captain, can’t you call on anyone else?” Morgen held Josele a bit tighter, as if to emphasize that he was preoccupied. “Please?”

“You were summoned specifically,” Jien sternly insisted. “Come with me to the captain’s office for the mission briefing or I’ll have you both penalized for your behavior.” After saying that, Jien went on his way.

Morgen gritted his teeth and frowned at the empty door frame.

The Vice Captain isn’t to blame. But the timing couldn’t be any worse. Morgen breathed deeply to expel his frustration.

Morgen stood and, since he had yet to let go of Josele, pulled her up with him.

“Josele, I’m sorry that we got interrupted like this,” he said as brushed some hair from her face.

“Morgen…” Her voice came out as a whimper.

“As soon as I’m back, we’re going to talk—”

“Please no…” She shook her head.

“I hate it too. Being separated like this—”

“If you go, you’ll…”

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” Morgen moved to hug Josele but paused when she pulled away from him. Oh gods, how his heart ached for Josele. He wished he could stay and comfort her properly but his duties as a Knight called for him. “I’m really sorry, my heart, but for now, I have to say g—”

The next thing Morgen knew, Josele had the collar of Morgen’s tunic balled up in her fists and she glared up at him.

“Don’t you dare say ‘goodbye’!” Josele snapped. “I don’t wanna hear that crap! I hate it! I hate it I hate it I hate it!” Her glare became a frown as she finally shed her tears. “I know what you mean by it, that it’s just ‘goodbye for now.’ But it feels… It feels like you’re saying we won’t see each other again. And it scares me. I know you’d never but I still…”

Josele’s gaze slowly dropped and her voice wavered. However, she didn’t stop talking.

“I can’t stop worrying. That you’ll leave me… That one day you’ll say ‘goodbye’ and mean that it’s the end and I won’t realize it until it’s too late. Please, don’t tell me ‘goodbye,’ Morgen. I know it’s stupid and selfish of me but… I’m your girlfriend, aren’t I? Can’t you at least say ‘I’ll be back’ or ‘see you later’?”

Morgen couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of his beloved Josele as her broken heart poured out to him. The redness in her eyes from her crying. Her trembling shoulders, unable to bear the weight of her heart. Ragged breathing that hurt to even hear.

Everything about her…

Instinctively, Morgen embraced Josele. Whatever comfort his presence could provide, he would give to Josele.

“Josele, I’m sorry,” he whispered. Morgen stroked Josele’s hair while she cried into him. “I’m sorry for ever making you worry.” He turned his head so he could kiss Josele’s temple. “But what you’re feeling is okay.” Ever so gently, Morgen coaxed Josele into turning her head then pressed his lips to her forehead. “I do wish you’d told me sooner but I’m glad I know now.”

Morgen moved to hold Josele’s face and looked her in the eyes. He brushed his thumbs under her eyes to wipe away the last of her tears, smiling at her softly as he did.

“I should’ve been wiser with my words.” Morgen kissed the corner of Josele’s right eye. “And I should’ve noticed your distress sooner.” The corner of her left eye. “But I can’t change the past. So I’ll change the future.” A peck on the nose. “No more ‘goodbye’s.” Her right cheek. “Whenever I leave, I’ll let you know that I have every intention of being back by your side once more.” Finally, her left cheek. “Got that?”

Perhaps it was a selfish request that Josele was asking of Morgen. But a bit of selfishness regarding each other should’ve been permitted, expected even, as a couple. That was what Morgen believed.

So, he’d fulfill Josele’s request.

When Morgen looked at Josele’s face again, she smiled at it. A wobbly, on-the-verge-of-tears smile but a smile nonetheless.

Moving as one, the two wove their hands together. The two leaned in close. Their foreheads touched. Their noses brushed past each other. They drew ever closer…

“You really do have to go,” Josele muttered, remembering Jien’s order earlier. She looked down at their intertwined hands. “Sorry for—mph!”

Morgen silenced Josele with a kiss.

“Don’t apologize.” He kissed her again. “Not for this at least.” And again.

“We’re going to get in trouble,” Josele said with a sigh.

“We’ve faced worse,” Morgen replied, chuckling as he did. Once again, Morgen locked eyes with Josele. “I have to go now but…” Morgen pressed his lips together, considering his next words carefully. “I will return to you. You hear me? I will return to you.”

“And I’ll wait for you.”

Josele’s smile, now filled with relief and confidence, made Morgen’s heart race. He wished to continue holding her and kissing her, no matter the consequences.

But, duty called.

After one last kiss, Morgen parted from Josele. He repeated the words “I will return to you” once more before he stepped out the door.

...

“I will return to you.”

Those words became a sacred vow from Morgen to Josele.

He spoke those words each and every time he left Josele’s side. For anything at all. Even for something as quick and simple as changing his clothes.

“Why those words specifically?” Josele had asked out of the blue one day.

“Because they are what I mean,” Morgen had answered.

“‘See you later’ feels too casual, like something one does in passing,” he explained as he held Josele close that day. “But that’s not my intention. When I say ‘I will return,’ I mean that even when I must leave you, I won’t move in a direction that would take me away permanently. And I include ‘to you’ because I don’t merely want to come back but I want to reunite with you specifically, my heart. You are a person of constancy, like home to me. I say ‘I will return to you’ because that’s what I want to do.”

Morgen wanted to always come back to Josele. And he always would come back. Always.

That was his plan.

Until he no longer could return to her.

[orcboxer]

🧝eldritch-blarst Follow

you're a mage but are you normal about invocations? do you support pacts? can you have a normal conversation with a warlock without bringing up Faust?

🧙 flarning-sphere Follow

nepo baby

🧝 eldritch-blarst Follow

this is exactly what I'm talking about this is the kind of harassment warlocks deal with EVERY DAY. you're not any better just because you went to college

🧝 eldritch-blarst Follow

reblog this version you cowards

🧌 doctor-glump Follow

doctor glump

🧝 eldritch-blarst Follow

typical fighter trying to make a post about a VERY serious issue into a joke

🧑‍🌾 bugbearhugemeat Follow

was anybody gonna tell me op was arrested for sacrificing a satyr in a blood ritual or was I supposed to find that out myself

🧙 flarning-sphere Follow

she WHAT

🧟 gabaghee-gabaghoul Follow

god forbid women do anything

[fanaroff]

Kind of continuation to this comic.

The first thing he opens his eyes to—

———

“Narinder?”

Too loud. Too bright. Too much. Even through closed eyelids and flattened ears. His head pounded behind his eyes. A rhythmic thumping so loud in his ears. A noise he was so unused to. A mortal sound.

Pain was a blinding experience when one was no longer numb to it. The One Who Waits could only huddle in one spot and cling to his own shoulders with claws he couldn’t not yet control enough to retract. He knew where he sat, but he was not going to allow the recognition to settle.

Hurt lanced across his chest, his wrists. He wanted it to stop. This was not how things were supposed to go. He’d planned for so long. How could this have happened?

Narinder chose wrong. He chose wrong. He chose the wrong vessel. His vessel who built him up, built a Temple in his name, raised devotion! His vessel who then tore him down and reduced him to this quivering mess of a new mortal.

How he wished they’d chosen to kill him instead. To have ended his millennia of suffering, not extend it further.

He chose wrong.

The physical hurt now ran in tandem with the emotional. How could they do this to him? When he saw them choose… he thought that maybe things would go right. He would be free and his vessel tucked safely in their own little heaven… but he saw them return the Red Crown to their own head. That damned Lamb!

The one he gave life to! The one he saved!

Betrayed by one he trusted so—

Now he was here. Now he was mortal. How foolish of him.

“…Narinder?” Faust’s voice was gentle, no doubt a front put on for the followers (they should be HIS) that he could hear hanging about in curiosity. (Insects to be squashed! How dare they look upon his visage and see him in this form!)

Narinder knew that if he were to open his eyes, he’d see nothing but hatred in theirs. After all, he ordered his vessel to sacrifice themself. And after all, this was not something his vessel was willing to do. Would such an ask not generate hatred in one unwilling?

Either way, the refusal… the betrayal… has generated hatred within Narinder and when he returned to strength… he would make them pay.

There was no point in putting things off.

Narinder cracked open an eye, blinking rapidly against the blinding light, prepared to see the Lamb standing before him with a weapon in hand. (They’d be foolish not to, what if he chose to attack?)

Instead, the Lamb kneeled before him (why kneel now and not then?), a bowl of water in hand and fake concern across their face. They were still covered in spots of their blood and Narinder’s ichor from their battle, fleece torn in places and wool sticking up in different directions. Yet, they were the victor and looked it. Narinder had no doubt that he looked worse.

He felt worse.

Light from the setting sun lit against Faust, brightening them in almost a halo. It would be beautiful sight… if not for the knowledge he had.

“Betrayer.” Narinder rasped. It came out wrong. He wanted it to be a hiss. A snarl. But it was a wheeze of air at best. His throat hated it. He hated it.

Faust had the gall to shake their head. They opened their mouth to speak, but Narinder beat them to it.

“Betrayer. I never should have chose you. A lamb that defiled my name. My Temple for their own!” He slowly devolved into a rant. A proper tantrum for the ages. Spitting insults that brought gasps of shock from those around them, a few being hands to weapons (garden tools at best), and yet Faust did not react.

If he had taken a moment, he would have noticed their eyes darken to sadness and a frown overtaking their features. He would have noticed the hurt. The Crown trying to get his attention that he had chosen the wrong subject for his ire. But he was understandably focused on his own.

“I wish not to see you! I wish not to be here! Kill me, Usurper! End the suffering you drag out further!” Narinder’s voice had torn by the end, quieted by the force he attempted to put behind it and sounding as if he’d been exposed to the smoke of fires for hours.

He’d begged at the end. Begged to be killed and put out of his misery. And again the Lamb ignored this.

When Narinder was done, panting harshly and lying against the ground as his body turned tired, Faust stood from their kneel and turned to a she-rabbit. They placed the bowl of water in her hands.

“Take him to a tent. I feel he would be calmer if I were not in his line of sight. Have someone come to me if he attempts to attack anyone. Make sure he drinks. Make sure he eats. Force him to if you have to, but be careful. He has not eaten in a long while.”

The she-rabbit bowed her head as Faust turned without a second look to Narinder and strode towards the Temple. His temple no longer.

Narinder could only squirm and attempt at clawing, glaring at Faust’s back as he was dragged away with the help of two other followers. Kicking and screeching, he vowed to himself that the Lamb would pay for this.

They all would pay.

— —

Quick Oneshot that may not stay canonical, or it may stay as a companion piece. The image will stay canonical as the first thing Narinder sees upon his indoctrination. For now, it’s a prompt for myself.

I plan to do the main fic series from Faust’s POV, but I wanted to play around with some of Narinder’s thoughts. I don’t know if it worked though, I have a hard time thinking how someone might react in hatred so I hope I got it close enough.

Hope you like it!

[kitkinnie]

rough concepts for my mlp redesigns and rewrite! i might not refine them anymore than the sketches hence why i'm posting them. my rewrite is basically like "what if g4 was closer to how it felt in the earlier seasons and more closely followed lauren faust's original concept art while still doing my own thing" and here is. that thing.

[illym]

The amount of Guilty Gear characters looking for a spouse in any given game is low, but never zero.

Translation assistance: @masked-and-doomed + @solradguy

ID in alt.

Cleaned and original comics below the cut.

Specific assistance:

@.masked-and-doomed: Transcribed what OCR couldn't pick up.

@.solradguy: Rechecked machine translation, offered suitable replacements for Faust's dialogue.

Fair bit of difficulty here. Apparently Faust was speaking like an old man, which is a huge pain to translate, both with machines and manually. Radguy experienced the same thing when translating some GG Anthology comics.

In addition, some of the [ つ ] in my transcription were actually [ っ ] in the comic.

I usually don't share my transcripts down here, but I will today so anyone following at home can compare it to the comic.

(じん)

辰巳 仁

(たし)

気を確かに!!!

P1

ああっつ

P2

･･･こ･･こんな･･･

ぷる　ぷる　ぷる

はっはっは

死にゃしませんよ

(よっこらしょっと

Or

よっこらしよっと)

P3

オレ…嫁さん

探してました

けど…

こんなコト

されたら…

ははら　ははら

はい?

P4

(せきにん)

責任とって!!!

(よめ)

オレの嫁さんにっっ

(たし)

きっ気を確かに!!!

[thedungeonbat]

neurobiology and goethes ‚faust 1‘🎞️

im now burning two candles at a time. what an upgrade :D actually understood biology class the past two lessons and managed to participate which I’m so happy about!! worked in the library again, which consisted mainly of trying to find certain books. multiple ones are out of stock which means we’ll have to look through the archive and hope for the best. I’m already preparing myself to not find the needed books in there. But that’s next weeks problem. Besides, I already planned my tasks for next shift (fixing computers).

Also: thank you so much for 100 followers?! I feel honoured that so many people seem to care about my ramblings and like to watch me struggling my way through my final year of high school. <3 see this as an opportunity to ask anything you’d like to know.

currently working on: studying for my german exam on faust 1 tomorrow

[hayleylovesjessica]

Tumblrinas like to talk about what's canon and what's not, but what about the actual literary canon? Which of the following works of Western literature have you read?

[jolenes-doppelganger]

Pirates Do Pilates- Kinktober Week One

Ilsa Faust x Fem!Reader

MINORS DNI 18+

Summary: A mission gone awry leads to a cramped hideaway in a vent. What could go wrong?

Kinks: Forced proximity, sex in tight spaces, pussy eating, 69, squirting, forced muffling.

Warnings: This is a Kinktober fic and just pure smut. If you read this as a minor, (and I see that you've read it by checking the age in your bio following your like) YOU WILL GET BLOCKED!

A/N: Starting off Kinktober with a bang ;)

Word Count: 2.9k

Reblogs and comments are encouraged and appreciated!

In the cramped, stale air of the vents, Ilsa’s breathing echoed grotesquely, sliding off of the walls in wet puffs. Your breaths were as raspy as hers, lungs burning as you tried to quiet them. Every puff of air traveled down, skittering off the walls and potentially giving away your location. Taking larger, slower breaths was better than trying to force anemic, barely there whisps of air like Ilsa. The risk of being detected for the sound of your breathing was minimal, there was no sense trying to force oneself to be quiet. Ilsa’s breathing got heavier, more painful sounding. You couldn’t blame her, this position sucked. The mission had required sneaking into a russian outpost to steal away a blueprint for the next big weapon of mass destruction. It was boring, basic, and otherwise uninteresting. And it went well. That was until one of your tools had tripped a detection alarm. Who puts lead in a wristwatch anyways? Climbing into the vents was a last ditch effort to stay safe, but you’d both entered it differently.

Your coverage to escape detection was a slab of concrete about six feet wide and three feet tall. Behind it lay your hiding spot. The concrete blocked a section of the air vent, thus making your position undetectable by thermal cameras and metal detectors. Being trapped in a vent together for a mission wasn’t ideal, and it would’ve been bearable. That was if you hadn’t entered the vent like you had. Ilsa had done the sensible thing, climbing into it head first, face down. You’d swung your legs in so that you were on your back. The maneuver was so quick that neither of you noticed the problem until you were trapped in that small space, her knees on either side of your head and her face inches from your crotch. Both of your bodies had to stay behind the block, and this is where the trouble began. Being the senior agent on this mission, Ilsa had the responsibility of teaching you to learn from your mistakes, but in this moment she was the one suffering for them.

You could hear her breathing getting worse as she continued holding a plank to avoid touching you. It was professional, and courteous, but she’d been at this for at least fifteen minutes, and the strain was obvious. Wheezes and gasps came more frequently, making it clear just how tired she was. Speaking was deadly in such a noise conducting space which left morse code as your way of communicating.

“D/O/W/N.” you tapped out on her thigh, firm enough for her to feel it through her oppressive leather leggings.

Ilsa didn’t comply. If you had been able to see past her ass, you would’ve watched her vehemently shake her head, determined to push through. There was no pushing through this, she was exhausting herself needlessly. Again you tapped out a command.

“D/O/W/N B/R/E/A/T/H L/O/U/D.”

Ilsa muttered a small curse, a sound made detectable due to the metal of the vents. It didn’t echo as far as it could have, but the both of you tensed as the sound slithered away into the vent. Her abdomen began to tremble, breathing growing louder and more punctuated as she fought a losing battle. Ilsa’s stubbornness would get you both killed, it didn’t take experience to see that. Pressing down on her hips caused the plank to crack, and she slumped atop your body. There was no noise of protest, just slower and more controlled breaths as her tired abs were given rest. She didn’t dare move, and you didn’t either. It was uncomfortable, your view was the dim outline of her ass against metal, but it was temporary. Both of you laid without comment, balanced grotesquely like a yin-yang. Minutes passed without interruption. Heat grew between you, the weight and material of your leather bodysuits conducting and roasting you both in the claustrophobic space. Sweat trickled down your brow, and again you heard her breathing worsen. There was no way to access your own zipper in this position, her body covered yours and the position kept Ilsa’s inaccessible to herself.

“H/O/T C/L/O/T/H/E O/F/F H/E/L/P” Ilsa tapped your thigh, just as you were sure you were going to be boiled alive in your gear.

The heat was mutual, it seemed. Taking in another big breath, Ilsa mustered the strength to lift herself off of your body. Your hand fumbled in between your bodies, groping around depressingly until you found her zipper, pulling the suit open. The angle made it impossible for you to grab your own zipper, so Ilsa intervened, reaching under her body and roving around your chest with her fingers until she found the zipper and yanked down. Desperate rustling ensued as you both tore off the leather, leaving only your loose undershirts. You swore you saw her skin steam, and it clicked just how hot she would have been, trying to maintain a plank in that jumpsuit for as long as she had. It made the endeavor all the more commendable, and the feeling of air on her skin must have been twice as liberating. The vent echoed as Ilsa sighed, slumping atop you again. 

“P/A/N/T/S” she lazily commanded. 

The pants should come off too, you silently agreed. Reaching for the zippers on the sides of her calf was easier, and you were able to completely rid each other of the garments without much maneuvering, except for raising the hips briefly. Again she sighed, resting her head on your thigh as air caressed her sweaty skin. Neither of you gave much of a shit about being in tank tops and underpants around each other, not when you’d both been minutes away from cooking. You’d been in worse straits, but the immediate relief of discomfort made this one memorable.

A peaceful silence filled the vent, and the two of you simply relaxed, waiting for the search to stop. The security below was good, but not good enough to discover, let alone guess where you’d hidden away. The two of you were persevering enough to stay camped out here until they gave up the search and blamed the disappearance of plans on an intern. The facility light below turned off, leaving the vents in total darkness. Lesser agents would’ve scurried away at this moment, but Ilsa knew better. She’d taught you better. The two of you weren’t out of the clear yet. 

Ilsa’s breaths felt more pronounced now, the rise and fall of her chest and the weight of her body on yours felt striking in the darkness of the vent. The more you focused, the more you could feel her breath ghosting over your thighs, sweaty head pressed lazily against the curve of your hip. In any other context this position would’ve been exciting, but this was your senior mission partner, and thus there couldn’t be anything sensual about it. Sure, agents were notorious for hooking up when on long term missions like this one, but never once had Ilsa ever made a move on you. Private lives weren’t on the table for discussion, so you’d always assumed she had a reason to refrain from hooking up. She was pretty, experienced, and probably more than acquainted with living a double life. Physical proximity blended with emotional distance made your relationship all the more befuddling. You’d both caught each other masturbating in the shower on several occasions, but it was never discussed. The door was just closed, and you waited until the other was done before you returned. Agents did what they had to do to stay sane on missions. That included never speaking about what they did to stay sane.

The vents were getting colder now. The heat of her body and metal beneath your back kept you insulated enough to hardly feel the chill. Her breathing grew shallower as she relaxed, making the breaths against your thigh more conspicuous. There was a new smell in the shaft too. Earthy, sharp, even musky. You couldn’t tell if you liked the smell or not, it was just odd and all encompassing. Even if you tilted your head in the attempt to dispel it from your nostrils, you couldn’t. The next several minutes of distraction consisted of trying to guess what it was. The distraction was only so good, and soon your awareness returned to your own sensations.

Ilsa’s breath was ghosting over your inner thighs more regularly as she waited, soft puffs of air curving down, sliding over that intimate flesh just below your panties. Soft, barely there caresses, teasing the tiny hairs, tickling them and drawing your awareness exactly where it definitely should not be. The sensation was driving you up a wall, igniting an inescapable conundrum of conscious feeling in your mind. Not only was it aggravating, your body was responding to it. Toes curling, goosebumps erupting, and worse, a distant throb in your pelvis. As you processed the first sensation of wetness against your panties you knew you were screwed. From front to back, side to side, posterior to anterior, and from the top of your head down to your big toe. Screwed.

Sure, it was pitch black, and there was no way she could see, but fuck, her face was right there. In this twilight where senses were heightened by the lack of other stimulation, there was no way she wouldn’t smell something. The smell from before was getting stronger as your breathing got heavier. It was everywhere now, and as you tilted your head up to figure out where it was coming from, the tip of your nose found its source. Slightly damp, musky, and definitely biological, you realized too late what you had been smelling, and you realized that your breath had tortured Ilsa as much as hers tortured you. 

“Hey-” Ilsa shrieked at the contact, cutting herself off with her hand as the sound echoed down the vents.

Below, the sound of boots was heard hitting the ground in rapid succession, following the echo of the vents right below where you and Ilsa were hiding. Your breathing accelerated, and that too became acutely obvious in the sound-conductive metal shaft. In a moment of panic, a desperate attempt to muffle your breaths, Ilsa pressed herself down, muffling you with exactly what had been the cause of this faux pas. Her pussy.

All you could process, all you could feel was Ilsa’s panty covered cunt muffling your breaths, bearing her pubic down against your chin, skull pressed against the metal vent. Your nose was covered, and you desperately opened your mouth, breathing through the cloth of her underwear to gather enough air to function. You were muffled, but at what cost? Every single breath taken in was mingled with the smell and the subtle taste of her arousal. Ilsa’s breathing was just as obvious as yours had been a moment earlier and as the bootsteps drew closer, Ilsa, whether out of spite or tortuous ingenuity, buried her face against your pussy. Not a single wisp of sound was heard in the vent, clumsy footsteps and distant shouting erupting as the scouts lost their trail. The two of you lay there, breathing around the other’s fluttering sex. Minutes passed like this, the insufferable torment of the most mild stimulus conceived against both of your aching pussies, leaving the both of you in a purgatory of almost-sensation.

Your senior mission partner, whether out of wisdom or madness, (you couldn’t be sure), was the one who broke the tension. Ilsa’s tongue darted out, tracing the subtle lines of your labia with her tongue through your panties. Slow, delicate patterns, machinations of desire causing a delicious tension to form in your very center. The moan of relief you delivered was muffled by her pussy, but she squeezed your thigh viciously regardless. The message was clear: You had to be quiet. Not a sound, not a gasp or a whimper. The price of deliverance was steep, but there were ways to pay it forward. You were kinder to Ilsa than she was to you, pulling her gusset to the side before you traced her gaping entrance with your tongue. Her smell was inviting, now that you could identify it. The lack of light made the experience purely tactile and olfactory, occasionally audible if you moved your tongue or lips clumsily enough to cause a squelch. 

With every soft lick, Ilsa’s cunt fluttered, winking open and closed, beckoning you further. It was a soft feast of flesh and tongue, your lips delicately tasting her arousal as the two of you descended deeper into madness. (Or bliss).

Ilsa, motivated by your soft stimulation, pulled your panties free of your thighs, leaning down and rolling your clit between her lips and tongue. The hard points of her teeth dug in around the flesh of your clitoris, the nerve brushing against the sides as her tongue rolled it in tantalizingly slow circles. Though she couldn’t speak, deprived of all noise except the rush of air in and out of her nose, her body spoke, begging for more with soft flutters, flirtatious drops of arousal, and most overtly, by the press of her hips down against your face. 

Her hips danced in slow circles, rubbing her clitoris into your mouth as your nose pressed against the wet ridges of her opening, spearing it open and closed with wet plops of air as the rocking continued. Every lick was rewarded, every devout act of passion returned. Her hands dug into your thighs, using the muscle as leverage to push her hips down and face forwards again and again and again. Your arms found purchase around her hips, fingers tracing the dimples of venus that rested just above the curve of her ass. The delicate rocking continued, you both cradling the other as the debauchery continued.

Every cant of her hips made her smell more prominent, her taste more concentrated, the warmth of her flesh more noticeable until you were drowning in it. Your lips latched to her clit, tongue rolling over it in a tender, infinite figure eight. Ilsa followed your example, dragging the both of you closer to a release as she spread your labia open to deliver a firmer suck to your engorged clitoris. The wet sounds that filled the vent weren’t subtle, the threat of discovery still remained ever present, but what mattered to you both was finally, finally getting off. The scouts had left this room anyways, and if they were going to kill you it’d better be after the two of you climaxed. 

The soft rolling of Ilsa’s hips evolved into regular circles as she delighted in the pull of her clit in and out of your mouth as you suckled fervently. She returned the favor with the laps of her tongue, fingers tugging your clitoral hood back entirely. Her breath wooshed over your entrance as she nipped and sucked at your clit, teasing the coil of release higher and tighter until your legs clenched painfully. The action was deceptive, Ilsa orgasming first. She breathed heavily out of her nose as her cunt violently fluttered around your nose. Whatever plans you had to enjoy the moment were ripped away by her desire to share the moment. She took out all of her pleasure on your poor clit, suckling so violently that your body throbbed from your pussy, up to your neck and back down to your toes as your body trembled in a violent attempt to stay quiet. White stars exploded around your eyelids, arousal dribbling out of your hole and urethra as your body felt stimulation through every angle. You kept your mouth against her cunt, muffling yourself lest a single sound escape. 

The moment faded away, leaving the two of you heaving for air, as close as you’d ever been. Neither of you could handle another, remaining limp and breathy as you processed your highs. 

Rest wasn’t available to agents, even post-coital. Ilsa’s watch vibrated, alerting her that an exit had opened up. Scrambling for clothes, the two of you managed to slip on about half of your suits, crawling out of the vents and slipping through the facility as fast as humanly possible. Your legs wobbled, her knee almost gave out. It was a high in itself, escaping with her like this.

←→

Inside the safehouse your high continued. Giggling like school girls and playfully shoving the other out of the way, the post-mission high had never been so dizzying. You were both tearing off your clothes, desperate to be the first into the shower, to wash the sweat and fluids off. She was a mean fighter, dragging you onto the floor by your half-off undershirt, you snagged her ankle so she fell on her front. Even as you achieved victory, the coldest, most heavenly burst of water raining down over your flushed skin, she still wasn’t done fighting. Slipping in the cramped stall, Ilsa manhandled you out of the way, pinning you to the wall as she scrubbed her face under the showerhead.

“Bitch.” you snarked, slapping her ass 

“Yeah, well you squirted on my fucking face.”

The two of you stared at each other in silence, water thrumming against the shower walls as you both processed.

“... Am I supposed to apologize for something you enjoyed?”

You both erupted in giggles again, limbs and suds tangling together as you took turns scrubbing the other clean of your fun. What was October without a budding romance?

Tags: @ilovehotactresses @marvelwomenrule @midnight-lestrange

If you want to be added to my tag list for Kinktober (or generally), please let me know!

[lu-is-not-ok]

hello! I've noticed that you say that there's foreshadowing for Hong lu's distortion in one of the interludes and I just wanted to ask what that is?

In Hell's Chicken, the first Intervallo, there's a scene where Faust explains the process by which a Distortion can form. The following exchange occurs:

Faust continues to infodump about Distortions for a few more lines after this.

It would already be suspicious for Faust to off-handedly use Hong Lu as an example of how a Distortion can occur. It's extra suspicious for Hong Lu to not only respond to the fact he was used as an example, but confirm this as a real possibility and then proceed to completely avoid explaining what he meant by that.

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Bonding memories.

Based off this art piece! Follow my mootie their work is so amazing! Also Aurelia is the name I've given Auron's mom.

Humming to the lyrics of Ghost of you, Auron was putting on his makeup. Getting more frustrated as his eye pencil wasnt working. It also didnt help his hair wasn't fully done yet.

"You look like a raccoon." A small voice was heard, making the older boy groan. Not even looking away from his vanity mirror, Auron heard Faust enter his room.

"Go away!" Snapping back, the red head focused on finishing his eye makeup. Picking up a hand mirror to get a closer look.

"No. I don't need to listen to you." Sticking his tongue out Faust sat on Auron's floor. Watching as his step brother grabbed some mascara he gotten from Trish.

"Ugh, your so fucking annoying." Muttering, Auron blinked as he put the mascara on. Placing a hand mirror down and looked at his bigger mirror.

The blonde young boy gasped offended, glaring at Auron. But paused as he saw how free the red head looked. Not needing to fully be expected to follow everything.

"...If I had makeup I'd actually wear it right." Chiding Faust curled his legs into himself. Suddenly feeling so sad about not being able to express himself.

Hearing the sudden shift in his younger step brothers tone, Auron looked at Faust. Brows furrowed as he looked over the blonde boy.

"Just do whatever, who gives a shit." Shrugging, Auron turned to his mirrors. Putting the finishing touches as the red head placed his glasses on.

"Because father says it's for girls." Parroting what that old fuck always says, Faust scoffed. Annoyed that this emo forgot about how his father is like. This made Auron paused and looked at Faust again.

The red head felt bad, knowing that he was raised with a parent that was more understanding. But sadly since Auron was still finding himself he tried connecting with Faust. In his own special way since hed rather die then be up front with it.

"God. Why are you so lame?" Rolling his eyes, Auron watched as Faust frowned more. But sighing dramatically, the red head turned back taking makeup out again.

"Wanna play with my makeup?" Asking Auron smiled to himself as he saw from over his shoulder how Faust lit up. Opening expensive makeup pallets and brushes the red head turned and gave a smirk.

The blonde boy before him looked like a kid in a candy shop. Looking at the collection that Auron made over the few years. And the questions began as he picked up random makeup things.

The older boy snorted as Faust tried understanding. So, a small lecture began as Aurom began showing the basics. Giggling as Faust looked in the mirror looking like a small raccoon.

"Guess we're both raccoon's huh?" Joking, Auron snorted as Faust threw a nasty glare.

"Don't make me look like you! I want glitter!" Blabbering Faust then grabbed ome of the magazines Aurom had. Showing a glam full face of makeup. "Like this!"

Blinking Auron nodding, tucking this information away. This will be good to use once it was Faust's birthday. So grabbing makeup wipes, the red head got to work.

As both were chatting and enjoying their time together. They didn't know there was two women watching them. Small quiet shutters rang out as Aurelia and Trish giggled watching the two bond.

Blinking again, Faust turned his head and realized he spaced out. Being in the old penthouse always did that to him. Grabbing the old makeup pallets that were Auron's just to keep the memories alive.

The new freshly bluenette sighed, wondering when he changed. Faust misses his older brother, the boy he was. Now that sweet red head is gone and he turned cold.

Wiping a tear Faust huffed and walked out, not wanting to cry in a old penthouse. Anger replaced the nostalgia he felt, Auron shouldn't have changed. Faust loved the boy he was and hated the man he became.

[nemo-in-wonderland]

omg I actually managed to finish this for Halloween, I cannot believe it fml.

But yeah, a while back @gravecleric0900 and I came up with a BG3 VTM!AU for the BG3 canonical characters AND for the our Tavs/OCs and their LI.

and well.

THIS WAS BORN.

Allow me to present Councilor Mephistopheles, member of the Inner Council of Seven, a former Member of the Order of Hermes, and a Methuselah turned by Tremere, not long after Tremere himself turned into a vampire; and Aranea, High Regent of the Vienna Chantry who has been holding it for Mephistopheles from the middle of 1800s until modern days (we do not take in consideration what the SI did in Vienna in 2008, that is not canonical in my own version of this). They have A HUGE BEEF with the Ventrues in Vienna, and Mephisto has a well known rivarly with the Ventrue Methuselah Asmodeus.

Aranea was sired by Mephistopheles sometimes in early 1800s, when Aranea, a German Occultist with the obsession of the myth of Faust and Mephistopheles, found herself following the path of Faust and found, at the crossroad, the Devil awaiting for her.

In this artwork, for what concern the garments, I decided to lean more into modern for Aranea and more into 1800s for Mephisto, for one simple reason: Aranea, in virtue of being the High Regent of the Chantry, is the one that has to spend the most time around people, so she needs to try and blend in, somewhat.

Mephistopheles, instead, is always busy with his experiments and machinations somewhere in the depth of the Chantry, and seldom venture outside, so he prefers to wear the garments he used to wear when he fell in love with Aranea (such sentimental).

They obviously share a blood bond, something that Mephisto insisted upon when Aranea was still a fledgling, but with a small twist: Mephistopheles drank from Aranea, which made her his Regnant and he her Thrall.

Also, do not let their height difference fool you: Aranea is still 183 cm tall, so it's Mephisto that is SUPER TALL LOLOLL.

Well, that is all that I have to share for now <3

I hope you will like this!

--Nemo

[nom-nommmm1]

Hi Oli,

I love your Lords Of Chaos stories so much, so could you write one for me? :)

I was thinking about Pelle x Fem reader, where she's Euronymous sister, and they have to keep their relationship a secret.

Xoxo and also I just saw that you write for some niche fandoms I really love, I can't wait for more stories to come

DIRTY LITTLE SECRET - PELLE/DEAD

Masterlist + taglist

AHHH HI ANON!! I’m so happy you like my stories! You’ll never know how much it means to me 🫶 also I’ve had ‘dirty little secret’ by The All-American Rejects stuck in my head FOR A WEEK truly amazing timing anon. But anyways, I look forward to see you request other fandoms soon. Also I didn’t know if you wanted to make this a smut or fluff so I’m gonna do fluff bc I’ve been in such a fluffy mood lol, request another if you’d like smut and I’ll gladly do it ❤️

Content warning !!: sweet!pelle x fem!reader, fluff?? There’s a suggestive part butt they don’t actually do it, kissing, hair pulling

The doorbell rings as the tussling of keys can be heard from Euronymous’ hands. “I got it!” I shout, opening the door to see Pelle standing there awkwardly. “Hey Pelle! You’re just in time, we’re all about to head to the movies” I say looking at the blonde haired boy, his cheeks turning a slight pink tone. “Oh yea uhm..Euro texted me” he says avoiding my gaze. He shuffles away from the doorway, letting Euronymous and I out. We all proceed to get into Euros car. “So are Faust and the guys meeting us there?” Pelle asks after a few minutes of nothing but the sound of the radio.

“Yeah, they’re just gonna be a minute since traffic’s pretty bad on their side” Euronymous says, putting his foot to the gas as the light turns green. Pelle nods, staring out the window, looking around at all the passing cars. I look at Pelle, he looks..tired? “You alright?” I ask. The blonde looks at me, seeming somewhat surprised by me breaking the silence. “Yea I’m fine y/n” he says looking back out the window to avoid the conversation.

The car pulls into the movie theater parking lot, we all get out walking up to the register. “Hello, what movie are we seeing today folks?” The cashier asks politely. “Three tickets for this movie please” Euronymous says, placing the money on the counter,pointing to a movie. “Of course, the concessions are inside” the cashier says handing us our tickets. Euronymous nods in acknowledgment, holding the door open for Pelle and I.

Walking up to the concessions counter Euro turns to us. “What do you guys want?” He asks pulling out a 20 dollar bill. “Popcorn and a slurpy?” I ask. “Sure sis, what about you Pelle?” He asks turning to the blonde. “Oh- I’m fine with whatever,” he says quickly, almost taken out of a trance. “Alright, you guys can sit down while I pay for this stuff” Euronymous says, pointing to the tables next to the bathrooms.

I nod walking over to the table, Pelle following close behind. We sit down. I look at Pelle, taking in his features as he refuses to look at me. “What’s wrong?” I ask putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Nothing y/n” he says moving out of my touch. Euronymous comes back with a handful of snacks. “Come help me get the rest guys” we all grab our own snacks and drinks. “Sorry you guys are going to have to share popcorn, I was two bucks short to get another” Euro said as we walked down to our designated auditorium. “It’s fine Euro” I say as we take our seats.

The theaters lights dim as music from the projector plays, the movie is finally starting after what feels like an hour of previews. I go to reach for the bag of popcorn accidentally putting my hand on Pelles, immediately pulling away. “Sorry” I say quickly before turning back to the movie. The movie continues on, the main character jumping out into the frame of the projector screen.

The audience chuckles as they say a joke as a criminal swings at them. I take a sip of my slurpy taking a brief glance at Pelle. I look away as I see his eyes look over to me. I lean to Euronymous, whispering in his ear. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, I’ll be back” he nods as I get up from my seat, walking down the dimly lit movie theater stairs.

I walk into the bathroom, splashing water in my face, starting to sob into my hands. After a few minutes I hear slight knocking on the bathroom wall, a figure slowly coming into my line of vision. The figure comes closer to me, rubbing my back. “I’m sorry we have to do this” the figure says. “What..?” I ask looking up, at first confused but soon my confusion is clarified as I see Pelle, still there rubbing my back.

Pelle frowns, wiping my tears away. “I can’t stand to see you cry, but you know why we have to keep this a secret, right?” He asks coming closer to me. I nod looking into Pelles warm brown eyes. “I know, Euro won’t allow it” I reply sniffling. Pelles frown grows and he wraps his arms around me, putting his head in my neck giving me a small kiss.

“Just wait a little longer, we can convince him” Pelle says brushing my hair out of my face. I nod again looking at him glumly. “Hey it’s okay, I promise” he says smiling, waiting for me to smile back but I don’t. Pelle then puts me into a kiss, my eyes widen in shock but I kiss him back passionately. I wrap my arms around Pelles neck. Pelle kisses me harder, putting his hands on my waist, picking me up. “Pelle!” I yelp feeling his hands on my ass, lifting me up.

Pelle places me on the bathroom counter, pushing me against the mirror as his lips attack mine. “I missed this” he mumbles into my lips, coating them with our saliva. I giggle pulling onto Pelles hair. He moans in my mouth, biting my lip and touching up on my body. He’s about to undo his pants before we hear a voice of a staff member. “Get out of there before I call your mamas!!” The staff member screams banging her mop on the floor. Pelle and I bolt out of the bathroom making out to our movie auditorium. “Remember, keep this between us” Pelle says before opening the door for me.

“Of course” I say walking in. “Alright, I’m gonna wait out here for a few minutes so they don’t think anything” he says giving me a quick kiss before shutting the door, smiling.

SORRY FOR THE DELAY BBS IVE BEEN SUPER BUSY N THERES BEEN A BUNCH OF DRAMA W MY FRIENDS BUT IMMA TRY TO UPLOAD

Alt acc: @nom-nommmmworkspace

Taglist

╰┈➤@mxqlss @roseroseluvrr @bkaulitzz @adellaonly @m3tal-chick

[coochiequeens]

I don't like conservative "news" media like fox and this site but no one else is talking about how surrogacy gives pedos access to kids.

The fertility industry is handing designer babies over to men with zero vetting or scrutiny of their mental fitness or criminal history.

By KATY FAUST

Surrogacy is risky for children. Not just the risk of a primal wound via intentional birth mother separation. Not just the risk of identity struggles if their genetic mother is purchased from a catalog. Not just the risk of mother-hunger if they are raised in a home absent maternal love. 

Surrogacy puts children at risk for the worst kinds of abuse. 

That became glaringly obvious last month when YouTubers Shane Dawson and partner Ryan Adams announced the birth of twin boys. Dawson’s long history of sexualizing children is well-known and well-documented. Evie magazine detailed concerning incidents including Dawson pretending to masturbate while watching 11-year-old Willow Smith’s music video, referring to a 6-year-old fan as “kind of sexy,” justifying pedophilia as a mere “fetish,” typing “naked baby” in a child pornography search and remarking that the returns were “sexy,” and proclaiming, “I would rape all of you” when viewing a series of photos featuring young girls wearing his merchandise.

In one show, he instructed a 12-year-old to eat a “cocktail weenie” with the recognition that child molesters comprise a significant portion of his audience. Dawson and Adam have another 10 embryos in frozen storage should they decide they want a few more children around the house.

We hope no harm comes to the boys to whom Dawson and Adams have been granted (via surrogacy contract) parental rights. But other surrogate-born children were not so fortunate.

Contrary to what you may think, surrogacy isn’t just about helping infertile couples have babies. When we look at how surrogacy is actually practiced and promoted, we see surrogacy isn’t about babies, it’s about on-demand, designer babies shipped worldwide. And sometimes, those babies are shipped directly to child abusers.

We don’t know the raw numbers because, unlike organ donation, the medical wing of #BigFertility requires no tracking or follow-up of those who avail themselves of their services. (Apparently, there’s more concern about the survival of a kidney than a child.) And unlike adoption, which heavily vets and screens prospective parents and monitors the child post-placement, surrogate-born children are not known to social workers and often disappear across international borders.

Even when safeguards are in place, predators often go to great lengths to acquire children to abuse. In 2022, the country was horrified by the story of a suburban pedophile ring set up by two married men who raped and pimped out their adopted sons. 

That children created by a fertility industry with no mechanism (and no desire) to scrutinize intended parents for things like mental fitness, criminal records, or predatory history end up in the homes of dangerous adults should surprise no one.

Absent any kind of record-keeping or follow-up on these children, those of us who reject surrogacy on the grounds that it violates the rights of children, must piece together the risks when stories of child victimization emerge. 

These 5 Pedophiles Mail-Ordered Babies

Psychiatrist Jo Erik Brøyn held a high position in Norwegian social services responsible for child protection and was involved in several high-profile cases of child removal. He also acquired two boys through an Indian surrogate. In 2018, police discovered 20 years’ worth of child pornography in his possession — more than 20,000 images and 4,000 hours of videos — depicting child sexual abuse including “boys masturbating each other, fixed/sexualized violence against children, anal sex by men with boys or oral sex of children (including toddlers) on grown men.” He was sentenced to less than two years in prison. Some sources report that the boys have been returned to his care.

An unnamed German pedophile hired a Russian surrogate for €60,000 who birthed the baby in Greece. He then flew the child back to Germany. In 2020, a regional court found him guilty of child abuse and producing and possessing child pornography. His child was a subject of 16 of those cases between the ages of 2 and 3, and the defendant was in possession of 175,000 images of child pornography. He was sentenced to five years in prison. The child was removed from his custody. 

In 2013, Mark Newton and Peter Truong were convicted of subjecting their surrogate-born son to “the worst [pedophile] rings … if not the worst ring I’ve ever heard of,” according to one investigator. After paying a Russian surrogate $8,000 to carry the child, the pair began to violate the boy as a newborn.

“The abuse began just days after his birth and over six years the couple traveled the world, offering him up for sex with at least eight men, recording the abuse and uploading the footage to an international syndicate known as the Boy Lovers Network.” Police believe the pair created the boy through surrogacy “for the sole purpose of exploitation.” The child was removed from their custody, and the men are serving decades-long sentences.

During the height of the Indian surrogacy boom, it was revealed that an Israeli sex offender had procured a little girl via surrogacy. Had #BigFertility had any kind of vetting in place or required fingerprinting or simply character references, it would likely have been discovered that the man had spent 18 months in jail for sexually abusing young children under his supervision. The discovery shocked authorities in both India and Israel, but because they couldn’t prove that abuse had yet taken place, there was no ground to remove the girl from his custody. It did however validate India’s decision to ban single men and gay couples, who composed 30-50 percent of intended parents, from the Indian surrogacy market.

In 2014, intended parents Wendy and David Farnell commissioned twin surrogate children in Thailand, then a global hotspot for surrogacy. The little girl, Pipah, was healthy, but the little boy, Gammy, had serious medical issues as well as Down Syndrome. A scandal erupted when the couple took the little girl back to Australia but abandoned Gammy to be raised by the Thai surrogate.

It was then discovered that David had been jailed in the late 1990s for sexually molesting two girls under the age of 10, and was charged, convicted, and sentenced again in 1998 on six counts of indecently dealing with a child under the age of 13. When his criminal record was revealed and investigated, a judge determined there was “a low risk of harm if Pipah stays in that home,” and she remained in the care of Wendy and David until his death in 2020. The “Baby Gammy” case was one of several scandals that prompted the Thai government to ban commercial surrogacy altogether. 

Many of the above cases are older, the results of contracts that were drawn up when surrogacy was less common. Since then, the surrogacy industry has grown exponentially with a projected 1,000 percent increase by 2032. In addition, there are entire organizations devoted to delivering custom-ordered babies to men, none of which will have to submit to background checks or fingerprinting. So expect more cases of surrogate-born child exploitation in the coming years. 

Whether or not the child ends up abused, whether it’s paid or altruistic, whether it’s traditional or gestational, and regardless of the intended parent’s household composition, surrogacy always violates the rights of the child. It is not a problem that can be solved through regulation. The only way to protect children is to ban surrogacy worldwide.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

What would the m6 bring to show and tell? Could be as adults or as kids :)

The Arcana Mini-HCs: What M6 bring to show and tell

Julian: leeches, obviously, and then he'd want to demonstrate how well they work on himself. might faint because his poor habits make him borderline anemic at times

Asra: terrorizes the class by bringing glitter powder, ostensibly to make their water magic easier to follow but really to leave an artistic rendition of Faust on the ceiling

Nadia: one of the gadgets she's invented - more specifically, one of the puzzles she built for Chandra. oh, and Chandra, so they both get a chance to show off a little bit

Muriel: didn't want to come and be Perceived, so he brought one of his tapestries to hide behind while he's holding it up. ends up giving an impromptu cultural history lesson

Portia: she brings Pepi, but she wanted Pepi to behave so she made cat biscuits, which led to making people biscuits, which led to making jam - she's balancing five baskets

Lucio: his dogs! and his arm! and his sword - too violent? okay yeah he'll put it away. he didn't bring anything else (he forgot what today was) but he can tell lots of stories!