#GOD THE LIGHTING GRRRRRR

[peppermintscreaming]

ME AND @secrettalem8 AS THE NUZI PROM PICTURE!! (This is meant in a completely platonic way :p) left is me and right is her!

[charliemwrites]

Woof woof grrrrrr

Content: Dub-Con, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex (reader giving)

The bar is exactly as busy as you’re hoping for when you get there. Quiet and intimate, low lights, a hum of conversation but not overwhelmingly loud. The bar is mostly full but not crowded. As luck would have it, you instantly spot a couple empty stools towards the back.

You glide across the establishment, head held high and shoulders back. Pick a seat and smooth your skirt under you to perch. The bartender comes to you instantly; you pick something sweet and fruity (delighted that it’ll match your outfit.)

It takes up until they slide it across to you — a tab opened with your card — that the insecurity starts to set in. What if no one is interested? What if Soap doesn’t show up?

You sip at your drink and pull out your phone, reading your latest book. If nothing else… at least you’re getting out? God.

“This isn’t your usual scene.”

Oh. Oh this is worse than being ignored all night and going home alone. So much worse. Just barely manage not to curse aloud as you turn to your ex.

“Justin…” you start, realize you don’t know where to go from there. “Hi.”

“It’s been a minute, huh?”

You look him up and down. Designer everything, of course, brands printed all over him. No taste, though, none of it is cohesive. You wouldn’t be caught dead at his side ever again.

“How’s your arm?”

His expression flickers, hand unconsciously going to the spot where Johnny tried to tear it off.

“Fine. Thanks.” He gives you a long look. Unfriendly. “You know people have had dogs put down for less.”

You run your tongue over your teeth, fear and anger twisting up in your stomach like hot lava. How dare he threaten your boy like that?! Wish Johnny was here now to take another chunk out of him.

“Not when people trespass on private property,” you reply coldly, eyes narrowing.

He puts his hands up, laughing awkwardly. “Well, now. I wouldn’t call it — let’s just say we’re even, yeah?”

“For that at least.”

You take another big sip of your drink. Find it empty. Make hopeful eye contact with the bartender and nod for another when they gesture questioningly. There’s a reason you love this bar.

“Right… listen, about that, luv…”

“There you are, bonnie!”

You perk up despite yourself. Says something that the creep who sexually harasses you in public is better company than your ex-fiancé. Something zings through you when you realize Soap is bigger than your Justin (hopefully in every aspect). Taller, wider, more muscular. Better jawline and prettier eyes, too.

“Tucked up back here like this,” Soap mock scolds, shouldering past Justin. You let out a little squeak as he scoops you off your barstool, hand just under your ass for a hold. “Almost didn’t see you, hen.”

“H-Hi,” you say, arms going around his neck automatically. He presses his nose to your collarbone and audibly inhales. You shiver.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he continues, voice dropping lower.

He sets you down on your stool again with a wink, then takes the stool next to yours.

“Oi, do you mind?” Justin snaps, bumped out of the way by Soap’s bulk.

“I do, actually.” The look Soap levels him is sharp, cold. Bloody killer. Instantly reminds you of all the alarm bells that normally play in your head when he’s around. “Don’t like puffed up knobs like you around my girl.”

You bite your tongue on a protest that you’re not his girl. Wouldn’t be particularly helpful right about now. You’ll correct him later.

“Your girl,” Justin scoffs. “She was mine before she was ever — hey!”

Soap’s got his fist in the front of Justin’s shirt, jerking him nearly off his feet. A few heads turn. You feel hot with embarrassment, skin prickling at so many eyes on your little trio of stupidity.

“Woah!” You yelp. “Soap!”

You grab his forearm (remind yourself not to get distracted by the muscles cording it) and lean into his line of sight. The near-murderous glint in his blue eyes softens, though there’s still an unnatural sheen to them. Something that makes the hair on the back of your head stand on end.

“Soap, let him go,” you say, quiet. “I like this bar, don’t get us kicked out… please?”

He hums, instantly drops Justin to cup his hand around the back of your neck, fingers edging into your hair. His palm feels so big and harm, a little rough with callouses. You try not to think about how easy it would be for him to manipulate your head however he wants…

“Like when you say ‘please,’ hen,” Soap purrs.

You swallow, feel your cheeks flushing as you say, “Then… you should sit down and have a drink with me. Please?”

He grins, crooked and a little mean. “Anythin’ fer you.”

He drops into his stool again like a king on his throne. You perch gingerly on your own, waving Justin away like an annoying fly. Don’t even look as he slinks off, too busy staring at Soap. Who’s… busy staring at you. As always.

“You never called,” he drawls after ordering. Whiskey, neat. The bartender sets your new drink in front of you; you start sipping to gather your thoughts and nerve. “Lucky I happened to stop in here, eh? Imagine if I’d walked past…”

You grimace a bit. A fantastic bit of luck, that. Thought you’re still not sure what type of luck.

Definitely not going to admit to him that you didn’t call on purpose, wanting plausible deniability if you did see him. As if trying to get him under your skirt by happenstance is better than calling him to do it.

“Why did you stop in here?” You ask, looking to change the subject.

“Could smell you,” he answers, eyes twinkling.

You wrinkle your nose, kick at his shin. Want to blame it on the alcohol, but you drink red wine most nights of the week. This is just… placebo and desperation.

“You’re so nasty, you know that?” You huff.

He arches his eyebrows, grins wolfishly. “Could show you how nasty I can be,” he offers.

You wrinkle your nose even as your cheeks burn. That’s exactly what you’re hoping for.

“You can’t keep talking to me like that,” you complain.

He snorts in amusement, hooking his fingers beneath your stool and tugging you closer. Until your knees are between both of his, jeans brushing against your thighs.

“Here’s the thing, darlin’,” he murmurs, low and private. “I think you like when I talk to you like that.”

You swallow audibly, hands dropping down to twist nervously in your lap.

“I think it makes your pretty pussy all wet and swollen when I get all mean like this,” he continues. You shake your head; his palm clamps down on your thigh beneath your skirt, thumb sweeping back and forth over the sensitive skin. “Think she’s fuckin’ aching fer me to make good on all my promises. And you can get all shy and sweet here, but I bet all your cunt wants is to be mounted and bred like a bitch in heat.”

And he’s right. Of course he’s fucking right. That goddamn bad guy fantasy and your shallow, needy pussy, and Soap’s stupid fucking everything.

You feel like you’re about to explode when the bartender sets his whiskey down, snapping the tension like a rubber band. Feel dizzy as you lean away, sipping desperately at your own drink in an attempt to cool off. He gives you all over maybe fifteen second before opening that sinful mouth again.

“So how about it, bonnie? Did I hit the mark?”

You feel frustrated tears pricking at your eyes. Blink and look away at your nervous hands.

“I-I don’t even know you,” you mutter. “You could be dangerous.”

“I am dangerous, baby,” he replies, “just not to you.”

You shake your head. “You’re awful.”

“Mm and you want me to do awful things to you.”

You sigh through your nose, that little logical voice blaring again. He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to use you.

(Would that be so bad, if you go in knowing it?)

A tug at your necklace startles you out of your thoughts, his finger hooked beneath the pendant. You lean in with a noise of protest, afraid he’s going to break it. Gasp as your lips brush his.

“Whatever’s goin’ on in that pretty head, let me fuck it out of you.”

You shudder, hand balanced on his thick, muscular thigh. Can feel a twitch near your thumb. Holy shit.

“I’ll be so good to you, princess,” he promises. “Let me be good to you.”

You suck in a breath. Now or never.

Well, if nothing else, maybe you’ll let Johnny eat him if he’s turns out to be a bastard.

“Prove it,” you breathe.

He guides your chin up, eyes blazing with hunger.

“Yeah?” He asks.

You blink, muster up your courage. “You heard me. Or are you back out?”

His expression goes deliciously dark. “Oh, I’ll prove it, lass. You just sit right here and I’ll get us sorted.”

His fingers slip just that last little bit up and start teasing at the lace of your panties. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to sip at your cocktail while he flags down the bartender. His nails scrape lightly across the fabric over your clit as gets your card and throws down enough cash to cover all three drinks.

When he pulls his hand away, you have to bite back a whimper.

“If you don’t get up right now, I’m haulin’ you out of here over my shoulder,” he growls in your ear.

You’re up in an instant, smoothing down your skirt. His hand stays glued to your lower back as he ushers you out to the lot. Sits you down in the passenger seat of a black pickup, barely waits for you to buckle yourself in before peeling out of the lot.

You���re about to tell him your address when you hear the clink of a belt, a zipper. Eyes wide as they drop to his pants, to him fishing a huge, hard cock out of jeans.

“C’mere,” he near snarls.

“Soap, that’s not— mph!”

The head of his cock catches on your teeth, but that only seems to spur him on, hips twitching.

“Gonna ruin that pretty makeup, your pretty hair. Gettin’ all dolled up like that for any fucking wanker to see.”

He twists his fingers in your hair and presses you down, your cheek rubbing against the shaft. He feels huge and unnaturally hot. You press your thighs together as you imagine how it’s going to feel inside of you.

“This isn’t safe,” you complain, mouth open as you gasp against the flushed skin.

He curses, tugs you up so that your lips press against the head, already dripping. Your eyes widen in the darkness, shocked and flattered that you’ve already worked him up this much.

“Not gonnae let anything happen,” he promises, “but you need to convince me not to spank this pretty ass black and blue.”

You squeal as he releases you hair just to deliver a harsh smack to one ass cheek, the sting making you clench up.

“H-hey!”

“You want me to slap that pretty pussy too? Bet I could make you cum just tapping that little clit over and over again. That what you want, slag?”

“N-no!”

“Then show me.”

You seal your mouth around the head, sucking and licking at the precum beading at the tip. Try to brace yourself, nearly gag as he hits a pothole and shoves into your throat. It’s noisy and messy, eyes watering from how thick and deep he is already, not letting you up for more than brief gasps of air.

“Fuck, that’s it baby. Work your tongue just like that…” he groans.

You lose track of everything but trying not to gag, his threat lingering with each obscene slurp and twist of your tongue. He tastes better than you expected, and the scent of him surrounds you. Musk and pine, something familiar that niggles at your cock-drunk brain. Can’t be bothered to work it out though, not when he’s tugging your hair. Not when he comes to an abrupt stop and you deepthroat him.

He yanks you off with a near-animal growl. You whine, scrambling to brace yourself and panting. Your head feels foggy. Know your panties are soaked through; shocked you’re not dripping down your leg. If you were sitting properly, you’d probably leave a wet mark on the seat.

You moan as his mouth crashes into yours, tongue sweeping inside like he owns it. He licks the taste of himself off your tongue, hands fumbling your seatbelt off, dragging you over the center console to straddle his lap.

You gasp at the sight of his rock hard, angry cock next to your pretty dress, pressed up against your stomach. Show just how deep he’ll be inside your guts.

“Fuck, look’it that,” he groans rutting against your stomach. “Oh you were made to be mine.”

You scream as he scoops you up, stepping out of the truck with you over his shoulder.

“Soap!” You shout. “Soap, put me down, my dog—”

“I’m your fuckin’ dog,” he replies.

“No, seriously, he’s protective—”

He grabs the spare out of its hiding place and shoves the door open. You brace for angry barking and growls, but hear nothing. Soap doesn’t even pause. He just kicks the door shut and storms down the hall to your room, like he knows exactly where he’s going.

He drops you onto the bed, watches your breasts bounce as you settle on the mattress. He strips off int he blink of any eyes while you’re still catching your breath.

“W-wait, wait, my—”

He flips you onto your stomach, hikes your ass up high in the air. You squirm, try to crawl away, but he slaps your ass so hard you see stars. He places his palm flat between your shoulder blades to bin you still.

“S-Soap,” you whine as he shoves your skirt up over your ass, palms a cheek. Spreads you open just to let the flesh jiggle back into place.

“Fuck,” he growls. It sounds off. Sounds deeper, rougher now.

“Just-just slow down…!”

He yanks your panties aside, plunges two thick fingers into you. You squeal, legs kicking uselessly against the mattress.

“Oh, you’re plenty ready,” he says, dark, almost to himself. “All ready to be mated and bred. All mine.”

That finally starts to break the lust-drunk haze. Open your mouth to tell him absolutely not, it’s been way to long and your need to be stretched—

He forces his entire cock into you with one brutal thrust. You scream, cry, try to flatten yourself against the bed but he won’t even let you do that, muttering about “presenting” properly. It hurts but it feels good, know that’s it’s just too much.

“Soap,” you sob, “y-you can’t— you have to… I’m-I’m gonna break.”

“Shhhh, no you’re not,” he soothes, grinding a bit deeper. Your eyes roll back, keening through your teeth. “You were made for me. You’re all for me.”

You shake your head, but he just chuckles.

“Yes, baby, yes. You let me in, you kept me. Now we belong to each other.”

“Soap, w-what are you talking about…?” you manage, fists tight in the sheets. He draws back once and slams into you, hard, mean.

Leans down so he’s rumbling directly in your ear.“‘S Johnny, hen.”

You blink, confused and overwhelmed. “W-what… n-no. No, Johnny is my….”

“Woof.”

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Masterlist

[onesidedradiostatic]

On velvette giving the flags presentation: I headcannon that velvette first realised they seriously needed to have the flags talk asap after Vox was bitching over an interview he had about one of his new shows being nonsense because they kept asking about 'bisexual lighting' and 'pan-coded' scenes and how wierdos were threatening to boycott the show just for him not condoning cookware fetishism. There would be some fast backpedalling and PR management for the VoxTek.

(p.s I love your doodles <3)

(prev post)

GRRRRRR these goddamn QUEERS and their BISEXUAL LIGHTING and PAN-CODED scenes

sorry I blacked out when I saw "bisexual lighting" because it just makes me think about how vox is coloured in bisexual in the poison scene (I'm pretty sure it's intentional too like there was NO reason for him to have ANY purple on him)

but that's funny LMASKDSOGKOSFH yes... "what fucking cookware-coded scenes are they talking about velvette. and what kind of lighting even represents hermaphrodites????" and velvette's like "oh my god I forgot I was with a bunch of fossils" and starts the presentation

(also thanks!! hehe <3)

[stevenssticks]

Now you Fed my brain with thoughts about virgin Kirk or when he didn't have that much of experience and OH GOSH GRRRRRR GOING FERAL PLS FEED ME MORE

OKAY OKAY DAMN (this is the second request i got for this so other anon if you’re out there this is for u too).

i would imagine taking kirk home when he like just started out with metallica. they’re not that big yet, still playing small venues and the after parties are smaller yet. kirk at first was pretty shy i’d imagine so you would just be like “i want that one” and That One in question is sitting in the corner drinking a beer and petting the dog.

like you would get back to your house and absolutely fuck him silly. he’d express to you that he doesn’t really know what he’s doing and somehow that just makes you want him even more.

ohhhh and giving him his first blow job would be a DREAM omg<<333 his head would be thrown back and a hand would be over his mouth to try to stifle his noises but you would grab it and push it down so you can hear him. he would be making the prettiest “auh auh auh” sounds all light and airy cuz he’s barely got any air left in his lungs. and when you DEEPTHROAT or tell him to fuck your face oh my god poor baby looses his shit. he would hold your head gently in both hands to keep you still and thrust up into your mouth with no set rhythm just desperate to cum. he’d be telling you “you feel so good, mouth feels so good.” until he cums down your throat with a little cry.

and when you get to fuck him, i think you would want to ride him first for a bit, getting your fix of seeing him all fucked out under you, mouth open, eyebrows scrunched together and eyes shut tight. you would make him open his eyes to watch you and he’s just awestruck by you moving on top of him. maybe you get tired and want him to take the reigns a bit. he’d flip you two over, getting you chest to chest with his face buried in your neck and would just start fucking you with fervor, like he can’t stop himself. hips slamming into you at no set pace and you would guide one of his hands down to show him how to rub your clit just right…

UGH and praising him telling him how good he feels and how he’s such a good boy would just make him cum so hard. his hips would stutter and roll into you even when he’s finished bc he’s so horny and just can’t calm down..

—

AAAA kirk my bb… sweet boy…

[chickenkupo]

Just My Luck - Chapter 2

Summary: As Wriothesley and Neuvillette continue their sensual activities, more starts to develop about his current situation and steps moving forward. What's this about the claim law? Why is he having to meet with other people? One final return to his land? A single wish?

Wait, he didn't ask for this choker!

Recommendations: Kinda obvious, but I highly suggest reading the first work under this, Just My Luck, for more background and spicy scenes.

Warnings: General audience, some hints of spicier scenes, but this is building up to more *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*. Neuv is possessive as always, and it gets even worse here, so if you're not into that, this isn't for you. Religious tones, cause they're gods and all that. Consent? Pfft, you're happy here, don't worry about it. This has not been beta-read, this is shit from my head that I was like damn, I kinda wanna write that and yall seemed to like the last one so here's the next part. As promised, this will be a Tumblr exclusive for a few days, until I get back from my convention. It will then be posted on AO3, probably late Sunday, so if you follow me on there, if you want you can leave a kudos, comment, random recipe, idgaf, just enjoy it.

Also, this is hilariously long again, and I'm writing this THE NIGHT BEFORE I FREAKING LEAVE FOR MY CONVENTION WHEN I SHOULD BE CON CRUNCHING MORE GRRRRRR MY BRAAAAIN

Enjoy :D

Time was lost upon Wriothesley as him and the hydro god Neuvillette shared many more intimate moments, wrapped up in each other and exploring every inch of their bodies. Hours, days, or even weeks could have passed for all he knew. The moment that he would pass out from pure bliss, he would awaken only to be fucked again by the god, repeatedly, either quick repeated sessions, or long and sensual ones. Regardless, he would be completely lost to his senses either way. The two would only take breaks to either make sure that Wriothesley was well nourished or needed to be freshened up. At first, Wriothesley still held a small sense of apprehension to the situation at hand, but once he started to repeatedly lose himself to pleasure, his body and soul almost seemed to ache and crave more from his newfound god and owner. What was once slight resistance turned into complete acceptance, and Neuvillette was more than willing to indulge.

This morning, however, was much different from the rest. Instead of being woken up by coaxing hands, or a long, draconic-like tongue caressing his body all over, Wriothesley instead awoke, wrapped up in the smooth, silk sheets of their bed, completely alone and without that damned draconic tongue running up and down his body, or his sharp claws tracing his muscles and leaving behind a light red, possessive trail. Instead, his body was well rested, no marks marring his body that he could see, and he knew for a fact that before half of this divine room had been put in a state of disarray with their brutal love making, but upon viewing the room once his eyes focused from his previous state of sleep, he saw that the room was utterly spotless and was in the same condition he found it in, as if nothing had ever happened.

Confused, Wriothesley raised himself to sit up, slowly, wincing as he took his time moving his limbs and settling himself at the edge of the bed. In an odd sense, Wriothesley took comfort in the soreness that he felt all over, it was a sure symbol that he didn’t dream up any of their interactions, blushing as he started to slowly remember certain memories of their coupling, of the moans, growls, begging…

Yeah, he needed to stop there before he had another problem to take care of. Blushing deeper, he realized that he was completely nude and scrambled to grab the soft sheets of the bed and draped it over himself to hide his body. Though at this rate the hydro dragon surely knew his body in detail, probably better than he himself knew it, he didn’t want to run the chances of someone entering and seeing himself in such a state. After taking a moment to mentally prepare himself, he stood up with the sheets draped over and around his body, his muscles protesting lightly at his movements. Since there was still no other presence with him, he decided to review his surroundings, he supposed that it wasn’t every day that a human such as himself would be claimed by a god and brought to their heavenly home, so ought as well to see what this god collected. If the stories he heard as a child were true about dragons, he was sure to see some treasures the likes of which the eyes of man may have never seen before.

As he started to explore bookshelf after bookshelf, he found all sorts of trinkets ranging from golden cased scrolls, to tablets with odd writings of a language long forgotten, to even fragments of broken weapons that seemed as ancient as time itself. Wriothesley was tempted to touch these artifacts, but somehow, he could sense a pulsating energy from all of them, and he wasn’t really in the mood to test what kind of reaction they would have with him if he made any sort of contact. Continuing onward, he observed rows of books in countless different languages, paintings that adorned the walls that depicted scenes, he assumed, were of different events in history, all intricately detailed and almost seemed to weave into each other, as if it were a giant storybook come to life. His eyes widened as he walked up to the last piece of art, gripping the sheets that were hugging his body tightly to his person, heart racing as he tried to process what he was seeing.

The portrait that stood before him was a realistic painting of Neuvillette, perfectly depicted in the same robes Wriothesley saw when he was first ushered to this place, standing in front of a watery throne within a court with a masked audience around him. Neuvillette’s arm extended with his clawed hand grasping a long, beautiful, jeweled chain, embedded with gorgeous glimmering gemstones of black, grey and white, that connected to a choker on the individual that was in front of him. That figure that stood before him was wearing the choker, had very similar black and grey hair, scarred skin and wore robes which matched the colors of the choker, and just as magnificent as the robes that Neuvillette wore. It was undeniable that the person in the portrait was himself, and that struck fear into his very being. His mind couldn’t comprehend what the picture meant, and he didn’t want to stay and find out. All the euphoria that he experienced when having endless sex with Neuvillette before seemed to fade from his mind as panic started to arise. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to do, he had no idea the layout of where he was at now, no telling how many gods were likely just around the corner to capture him and bring him back to the hydro dragon god.

Right as Wriothesley was about to turn around and debate thinking of escape plans, he felt familiar arms wrap around his torso from behind, pressing him against a very familiar, slim but chiseled chest, lips pressed against his neck, delivering light kisses. Wriothesley sighed as he relaxed into the grip, cuddling his head closer to the one assaulting his neck, now with nipping love bites. Previous thoughts eluded him as his body started to readily accept the familiar touches of his god, knowing its home and proper place before his mind did.

“Mm...” the dragon rumbled; lips felt against Wriothesley’s neck in a smirk. The dragon was pleased, Wriothesley’s body already being trained so well to respond to him and know who owned him. The claimed man let out a small moan, a call that was all too familiar with Neuvillette. His claimed wanted more, and only from him. Normally, he would be swift to take the two of them to bed and continue to ravage his body. However, more important matters were at hand. Though, the dragon couldn’t resist, his clawed hands pulling at the fabric that was wrapped around his claimed, lowering it so that more of his toned chest and abs were exposed, of which his hands continued to explore and grope, possessively.

As Neuvillette continued to overstimulate Wriothesley by giving his neck and torso attention, there was a sudden sound of a clasp being locked, and Wriothesley felt an odd sensation around his neck that felt much too still to be the one he was familiar with, as the dragon’s tongue would be massaging it by now and licking up and down, leaving wet, possessive trails behind. No, this, this felt like a collar…a…

“Choker…?” Wriothesley managed to grunt out, trying to break the haze that was in his mind like a fortified fortress.

The arms that were wrapped around him let him loose, a hand still placed on his back for support as the powerful hold that was placed on Wriothesley to keep him distracted was suddenly lifted. The man staggered forward a bit, regaining his senses and control, as his hands immediately reached up to his neck to feel the chained choker that was securely placed, and not moving an inch, no matter how hard he tried to remove it. The force he put on it didn’t even affect the light pressure it gave as a constant reminder that it was there. No, the choker refused to harm him in any way, but it also refused to release him.

Wriothesley looked around the room and noticed a long mirror that was placed on one of the walls, of course elegantly decorated, almost overly so. He quickly ran over and took note of his appearance, hands still tightly grasped around that which was currently binding his neck. As it was in the painting, so it was in person. The same exact collar was dressing the skin of his neck, with a chain leading off that appeared to fade into thin air at about the third or fourth link down, as if it weren’t even fully part of reality.

As if sensing his confusion, Neuvillette gently tightened his hand into a firm grip, and there in his grasp was more of the chain that directly connected to Wriothesley that suddenly took on full physical and solid form with the added tension from the god, tugging ever so slightly on it. Instantly, Wriothesley felt a gentle pull towards Neuvillette, glaring at him. Neither had to exchange words for them both to understand that each knew what this meant, though the claimed did have a remaining question for the god.

“How far? How far are you able to do that from?” Wriothesley asked, trying to growl his words out to give some form of intimidation, but it only came out in a feeble whimper, of which he was embarrassed, but nothing he could do about that now.

Neuvillette, in response, offered him a wide, handsome smile, the light within the room bouncing off his figure, as helping him to gloat about his omnipotence.

“There is no world too far, no heaven too high nor hell too deep, where you won’t be connected to me.”

The look of finality in Neuvillette’s eyes gave Wriothesley the horrific assurance that the hydro dragon god was not lying, could he even lie to Wriothesley? There was no sense of escape from him, and it even felt down in his core that the sooner that he accepted this, the sooner he could live.

Wriothesley turned back to his mirror image, looking at the newly formed bruises on his neck and how they were already beginning to fade. He could only imagine the sorts of changes his body had undergone, having been in the realm of the gods for so long now, and having exchanged bodily fluids with a god, himself. Though, one scarring did remain, the night of the first claiming when Neuvillette bit him, the scars from that bite persisted, never healing, only shown off in emphasis by the choker, as there was a wide circular gap on the exact spot of the bite scars, as if to blatantly show any idiot that dared show interest that Wriothesley was taken, by one the highest level of divinity existing.

There wasn’t much that Wriothesley could ask his god next, but the obvious.

“Well, what do we do now? What else are you going to do to me?” asked Wriothesley, looking at the god in question, his arms closing in on himself to try to make himself smaller, subconsciously.

Neuvillette simply stared at him for a moment, taking in his somewhat ruined form. The sheets were barely hanging onto his claimed now and though the bruises were beginning to fade, their presence was still there. A sense of satisfaction emitted from Neuvillette in the form of a low rumble of approval. There would be no questioning his ownership of Wriothesley now, and if anyone dared, they would be met with the fury of an enraged god, and no one would be there to save them.

After looking over Wriothesley for a little longer, Neuvillette finally decided to answer his question.

“I believe it would be nice for you to get acquainted with other claimed from your homeland of Fontaine. It will do you some good to hear from others in your same, albeit a small bit, different situation. From there, I will grant you one last visit to your old lands, and one final request before you are spirited away back here, to your new home for good, as the claiming law permits. Meeting and conversing with these individuals may help you come to a decision.” Neuvillette stated, not his face not giving way to any emotion, as his gaze was directly on his claimed, observing.

At the mention of having one last visit to his home, Wriothesley’s eyes lit up, only to simmer back down once Neuvillette made it very clear that this is a one and done sort of situation. There will be no going back after the allowance, no returning. His body even felt like it was repulsed by the idea of returning to a world that was so harsh to it, constantly in some sort of pain, suffering or form of anxiety. It craved the warmness of the skies here, the fulfillment that his god would constantly bring him, no worries in the world, only bliss and contentment in this new world that he still barely understood. But his mind, his mind knew that he needed to check in on his adoptive family one last time, the love he had for family fiercely flowed through him.

“Right…when will this meeting take place, then? I doubt presenting myself in my current state would be appropriate.” Wriothesley said rather carelessly, letting his thoughts flow freely.

At the mention of others taking view of his body like this, Neuvillette growled, fiercely, his eyes lighting up in a fit of jealously. No one was to view his claimed like this, ever. This was a treat, a blessing, that Wriothesley could only bestow to him and him alone.

“H-Hey! I said I wouldn’t! Tch-!” Wriothesley cried out in frustration, holding the sheets even more tightly to his body, a blush appearing on his cheeks. The thought of a god wanting him like this and becoming so possessive made him feel embarrassed in a way, but he did delight in it a bit, that he would not deny.

“Do not even fathom such events in your mind, or speak them into existence. You are my claimed, by my right. No one is viewing you like this but me. Do you understand, Wriothesley?” Neuvillette asked, his hand raised and once more held into a tight fist, pulling the chain to give a noticeable tug.

Wriothesley jerked forward a bit, catching himself, as he began to look up and glare at Neuvillette, but simmered down once he saw the fury in the dragon’s eyes. A chill went down his spine, noting that his own existence could be extinguished like a simple afterthought, if Neuvillette so deemed it. Instead, he bowed his head in respect.

“I-I apologize, it won’t happen again, I was out of line for even speaking of that.” Wriothesley admitted, a part of him hating that he was displaying such a level of submission, but at the very core of his soul, he knew that this would be the new normal for him.

“You will be meeting with them this afternoon. I will have my servants come and deliver your clothes. You are to either remain under the sheets in the bed or go to an adjoining room until they are done delivering your garments. From there, they will lead you to where you need to go. I will remove myself from the situation, so that your final request will come more clearly to you without my influence.” Neuvillette stated, but spoke no further after that, waiting for Wriothesley to respond.

“Alright then, I suppose...? How do I address you now, anyway, given our set of circumstances?” Wriothesley asked, in genuine curiosity.

Without a moment of hesitation, Neuvillette offered a simple reply.

 “Husband. You may call me your husband, dear wife.”

•

•

•

Wriothesley couldn’t believe his eyes, once the servants of demigods and lesser gods left him to his own devices, having delivered him to an elegant garden outside of what appeared to be a giant mansion. He spent a decent amount of time wondering about, taking in the sights of fauna that he had never seen the likes of before. Beautiful, blooming flowers, with petals so large they could be mistaken for giant leaves. Normally he’d be having a sneezing fit by now, but as he continued to walk through what felt like constant mazes of twists and turns, his nose never once started to sting or eyes starting to water. This place was perfect, too perfect.

It didn’t take long before he came to a more open section of the garden, with silver tables strewn about, plates of pastries, coffees and other fine assortments on small serving platters at each. He expected for such a place to be quite crowded, but instead it appeared that there were only a handful of others, and from their lack of a powerful aura, as well as similar spectacular adornments around their necks, that these must be the claimed that Neuvillette had mentioned earlier. He knew for certain that Neuvillette wouldn’t have let him wonder about and encounter anyone that he wasn’t supposed to.

Wriothesley, nervously, adjusted the tie of his suit, making sure that it hung lazily around his neck. He was never the one to be dressed so fancily, and although he enjoyed the colors of the suit that matched those of the binding choker, he still felt out of place. Simple rags and clothes were fine for him, but there was no way, especially now being a claimed, that he would be allowed to do such a thing anymore. He’d simply have to get used to all the abundant elegance, as much as it currently annoyed him.

“Monsieur! Monsieur! Are you the new claimed from Fontaine? I simply must have a word with you, I have so many questions!” A lively voice giggled at him from a table near where he was standing. Looking over, Wriothesley took note of a young woman with long, lusciously curled blonde hair and the brightest, peppiest blue eyes he had ever seen, and a face with slight makeup that accented everything beautiful about her. A light breeze picked up, as she made a struggling sound, trying to keep her heavily decorated hat atop her head, her gorgeous amber and black coded dress moving in the breeze with her. Though women weren’t his taste, he would be a fool to not admit that she was stunning, with such a kind and playful charm.

A light tugging could be felt around his neck, a clear warning. Wriothesley mentally sighed to himself, growling in his mind that he could appreciate the appearance of someone without it being a threat. The tightness subsided, but slowly. His husband was a rather jealous god, wasn’t he?

“Here! Let me get that for you!” Wriothesley cried out as he reached for it, but the young woman was able to hold the hat back down to her head just in time, swatting away his hand with a simple motion, making sure to not make any physical contact with him.

“Oh, no, it’s fine! I appreciate the gesture for help, though. You’re new here but I’m sure you already know that our gods are rather…peculiar about who is allowed to touch their claimed, and mine is certainly no different. I’m honestly surprised they agreed for us to have such a private, introduction with each other! So, less chance of angering them, the better, you know?” The young woman giggled, with a bright smile. She didn’t seem phased by any of the situation or upset in the slightest. In fact, her eyes started even shining more brightly as she picked up a small macaroon from the serving tray, happily munching on it.

“Ah! Where are my manners?! I apologize, when I see sweets, my mind tends to wander!” The young woman cleans her hands off with a neatly woven napkin. “The name is Navia, Navia Caspar! Leader of the Spina di Rosula!” Navia giggled, with a slight bow of her head.

Wriothesley stared at her, almost in awe and with some slight confusion, as he tried to piece this information together. Navia took notice of this, her smile fading as there was a sense of concern growing within her that was quite evident. After Wriothesley took notice of her change in attitude, he cleared his throat as he took a sip of tea that had suddenly appeared, already poured for him. No doubt something that his husband was probably responsible for, in some sort of way. Especially since it was his favorite flavor, which just enough sugar and milk to soothe his nerves.

As he calmed down a bit, Wriothesley looked up at Navia’s worried eyes, and finally decided to speak on the matter. “Miss…Navia, I apologize. I didn’t mean to bring any sort of worry to you but, I’m going to be honest. I find it hard to believe what you told me, but your name matches and from what I remember hearing through stories as a kid I just…” Wriothesley sighed, as he continued. “The Spina di Rosula, that was an ancient organization, there’s not even that many texts about it, adults told us stories about the group, like they would be watching us from the shadows and if we were bad, they’d take us away. I didn’t think that you all were real…” continues, in awe and a tad bit of regret. It was probably best if he had just kept his mouth shut, but a part of himself felt like she deserved to know what he did.

Navia stared at him, almost in a glare, as if he were trying to offend her with such ridiculous information. But, as he continued to stare and notice that his reaction and words were probably genuine, her frown deepened as a part of her seemed to break out of whatever hold this realm seemed to establish on the claimed individuals.

“W-what do you mean…? Of course, we were real! Royalty of Fontaine hired us for information collection, bodyguard services! Kids didn’t fear us, they wanted to join us!” She yelled out, hands slamming down on the table, the goodies on the serving tray being moved ajar due to the outburst. Wriothesley merely sat back in a shocked expression, not saying another word and making the situation worse than what it was. Though, surprisingly, Navia seemed to gather herself, fixing her dress and hat, and sighing in defeat.

“I apologize for my outburst there. It’s not often that I meet people from my nation and I, I forget that time moves differently here. I truly do not know how much time has passed and I just assumed you might be from my period…” Navia explained, with a small, sad smile.

“Ah, no, it’s completely my fault and I apologize. I shouldn’t have just blurted all of that out like that, and I’m completely lost when it comes to the passage of time here. Do you have any idea how it works?” Wriothesley asked, hoping to step away from the sensitive topic, while also trying to get enough information out of her to come to some logical conclusion.

“No, I wish I did. Every time a new claimed comes, they’re from all different time periods, or even worlds. It’s been extremely difficult to try to keep up from and when we were. I’m sorry, I wish I could offer more help!” Navia stated, pure disappointment playing through her voice.

“No, no, don’t apologize.” Wriothesley stated, trying to wave off her statement, but taking note of the information, or lack thereof, that she provided. “Sorry, I came to this…place, with little to no information on how any of this works so I’m just trying to piece it together.”

“Ah! Well, that makes two of us! But sometimes you can’t help but just come to terms with it, you know? You were claimed, same as I, and well, this is our current world and maybe giving it all up for someone else to figure out for us isn’t so bad…” Navia began to trail off.

As she was about to continue their conversation, three other individuals started to walk forward towards their table, one more so rushing towards them than the other two.

“Ah, hello friends, welcome! What a magnificent day, wouldn’t you agree?” A young male’s voice rang out, as he took to taking the seat between Wriothesley and Navia, twisting a top hat in his hands, before tossing it into the air and catching it was ease, doing a little chuckle as he did so, obviously loving to show off.

“Really, brother? Must you be so insufferable as of late? The moment you hear of a new claimed from Fontaine, you absolutely go off the deep end…” Another voice of a young woman popped up, taking another seat closer to Navia, noticeably different from the rest as a pair of cat ears were poking out of her head, and a thin cat tail swooshing behind her in annoyance, her simple dress swaying in the slight breeze as well. A third, smaller, figure took the last seat between the two of them, in a simple suit and hat, keeping his head down, blushing lightly. “Brother…” the smallest one warned, while keeping rather reserved.

“Well, dear sister, it’s not every day that Monsieur Neuvillette takes an interest in anyone…in fact, I think this is the first time! Imagine that! The stoic judge, finally laying the law of claim down on someone. You truly must be extraordinary, Wriothesley!” The young man cheered, a devilish smirk plastered on his face, earning a gaze from his sister across the table.

“Lyney! You act like you’re so casual about the Iudex, show some respect!” She hisses, literally hisses at him.

“Wait, how do you know my name?” Wriothesley finally manages to speak up, looking at the trio. Navia stares at them as well, though a small fraction of a smile gives way that she knows more to the situation than he does.

“Well, duh! That’s our job! Father makes sure that we have information on just about everyone as soon as possible.” Lyney shrugs, as he leans back in his seat, looking at Wriothesley almost as if what he asked could have been taken as a joke.

“Wait, father…do you mean your god is like a father figure towards you three?” Wriothesley pressed, eager to learn more.

“Mn, that is correct. Not every claimed is under the same circumstances. For you and Navia, your gods chose you as spouses, or mates, and developed a strong relationship through that route of a bond. However, our father took pity on us, as we grew up on the streets of Fontaine as orphans, doing little magic shows or other various street performances to survive. Father kept attending our shows, and we managed to pique their interests. Wasn’t long after that when Father evoked the law of claim, and after appearing in court to Neuvillette, was approved not one, but three claims. It was a rare case, but Father is well, our father now, and strives to teach us about the world and give us the lives we never had, which we should be forever thankful for, right, brothers?” The young lady addressed the other two, having explained all of this to Wriothesley in a rather strict, and yet almost bored voice.

“Y-yes, Lynette…” The smallest boy stuttered out, still choosing to keep his head low, eyes refusing to meet anyone else’s. The boy might shatter if that managed to happen, giving how reclusive he seemed.

“Ah, my dear sister Lynette has such a way with words, doesn’t she?” Lyney states, almost in a dreamful manner, his performance personality surely shining through his every action, it seemed. “Now, let’s get to know you a little more, Wriothesley, plus I’m curious to know how Fontaine is doing here of late. I can only imagine a considerable amount of time has passed since we were claimed.” Lyney says, urging Wriothesley to share his story and any information he may have.

Wriothesley cleared his throat, after taking some more sips of the most delicious tea he’s ever had and tells them every bit of information that they requested of him, and more so. He tells them about the hardships he faced as an orphan with his abusive, adoptive family, how he strove to protect his adoptive brothers and sisters, and what lengths he went through to ensure their well beings. He continues, now adding in the information oh so graciously provided by Neuvillette, where the god had placed such a curse on him to ruin his luck, forcing him towards hardships to help build himself towards deserving a claim from him.

Navia frowns halfway through his story, giving him soft looks of pity, while the other three engage in further conversation.

“Ah, the mighty Iudex works in mysterious ways. A little tough in my opinion, but who am I to judge? Certainly not me towards the actual judge, that’s for sure!” Lyney chuckles, while his sister groans at his obvious attempt at a joke.

“W-Wriothesley…? Are you ready for one last back trip back…soon…?” The small, young boy managed to barely whisper out, but all of them were attentive enough to pay attention and listen, not urging him to speak louder or bring further attention to him. Navia and Wriothesley safely assumed that they were all lucky that he managed to speak at all, especially bringing up a question by himself without any pressuring.

“Is, is this normal? For people like us, I mean?” Wriothesley asked, looking at all of them around the table. All eyes were on him, with a sweet, understanding tone and yet, there was still a hint of sadness and awareness about something that he was dying to figure out.

“Surprisingly, yes, unless the claimed really made their god mad, or earned some sort of divine punishment. After making the claim official with the placing of a collar, necklace, or some sort of other way of marking around the neck, the claimed is usually granted one last visit to their homeland, and one wish while on that visit. Of course, it can’t be anything that would lead to a breaking of the bond, and if you tried to grant yourself distance with the wish from them, don’t bother. It’ll be a complete waste of time for the two of you. It’s already far too late to try to escape, consider this as one last mercy before your new life officially begins.” Lyney takes it upon himself to explain, the rest of them nodding in agreeance.

“Well, I suppose it’s no harm in telling.” Navia speaks up, as she continues. “For my wish, I wanted both of my bodyguards to have Clorinde’s protection while I was away, for as long as they lived. They both served me well in my mortal life, protected me and practically raised me since my parents died when I was still rather young. I spent one last day with them together, before I came home here. I do hope they had the best of lives, they deserved it and so much more…” Navia whispered her last statement, patting her eyes with her elegant napkin, but not in sadness. A wide smile and blush played on her face, clearly remembering the two of them fondly.

“Wait, so you weren’t able to look over them and watch them live their lives out?” Wriothesley asked, anxiety starting to brew within his soul. Everyone know that a claimed was taken out of their regular realm and into one of the divine, but it never fully registered in his mind what that meant, especially since this was the current scenario that he was facing.

Navia simply shook her head before she replied.

“No, our gods like to separate us from our old life, that way we won’t remember the pains and anguishes of the past. I can understand it, to a degree, but I do hate not being able to see what happened to those I care about. It’s part of the curse of the claimed, I suppose you can call it. We’re granted all this greatness, but we must give up our old lives for this new one.”

Wriothesley remained silent as the rest of them started to converse with themselves, about different subjects now, of times now in their new life that they shared, if they had seen that one old god fall down the stairs or see that snooty looking one get what they deserved at the end of the day. He wanted to listen in so badly, but his mind was riddled with questions, as the answers he received only made his drive for knowledge about all of this so much stronger.

It wasn’t until he lifted his head and saw how all of them were getting together, like one small little family.

Family.

They loved and had each other to rely on, to keep them company, to love and to teach each other. His heart ached as he thought for a moment that such an option for him didn’t exist now. Sure, he wasn’t into women, but that never stopped his want of having a family for himself one day, somehow. Sure, he could have a friend family through this Fontaine group, but a part of him wanted something more personal, his own to take care of, a hidden desire he had always had as a regular mortal.

He wanted his own family, would Neuvillette want one with him?

[thesovietonion77]

favorite quotes from my older sister this month

"he's acting too top-y, START ACTING LIKE THE BOTTOM COCK SLUT YOU ARE-"

"Making out under a security desk? We've had ON some, but under? Wow, decency, rare"

"Thats from me, teaching a non-existent audience how to moan in british"

"They're being very consensual towards each other! That's great, we love consent here!"

"Okay this is getting....redundative. Redundant."

"STOP WITH THE BACK AND FORTH-"

"ooh, fervor, i love fervor, it's my favorite word! No, no, it isn't. I think my favorite word is Pafawafalacancake."

"Poison, ya feedin me poison! I'm starting to get tired of fucking death threats from fans of Davis and reed and meg and kat-"

"Oh well, let's go shove a pancake up his bum or smth- 😊"

"Heavy distortion! Oooeoeooeoeoeeoeoeoeooeoeoaaahhh-"

"Pov: asmr diet dr pepper drinking sounds!"

"Pov: asmr heavy distortion diet dr pepper drinking sounds!"

"QUACK-"

"Don't you dare knock over that green ibanez!"

"HELP ME, THE KEYBOARD FELL ON ME!...AND THE CURTAIN ROD!...ALONG WITH IT, THE CURTAINS!"

"awh, but putting up greenhouses is so hard 😣"

"I cannot do the sexy dorito mans voice for the life of me, and you can? I'm like...4-...no, 3 years older than you!?"

"I'll torment you day and night, want me to stop? Give me your staaaa- *voice crack* FUUUUCKKK-"

"Or should i say....MY star, ahuhuhu~ 💅💅✨✨"

"Wow, look how sexy and on-model this drawing of vaggie is, look how....canon her jawline is"

"How do i write lyrics for 'no girl's toy' but the 'boy' in question is actually a girl and the 'girl' in question is actually a boy"

"GOD DAMN, SUN X MOON ON MY TUMBLR FEED-"

"ya....ya...she be fuckin on my toy til i cory....ya, she be breeding on mah mount til i mae.....ya, she be jiggin' on mah saw til i baby-"

"*terrible muscle man impression* YOU- YOU KNOW WHO ELSE LIKES LUMINI??! MY MOM, STARLAAAA-"

"man, YuB needs to rap to the songs in hazbin hotel and helluva boss"

"I CAN'T FIND THE DEPRESSED CLOWN EDM MUSIC- NOOOOOOOO"

"*over one of her drawings of Senoris*Daddy? Sorry, daddy? Sorry, da-"

"Ooh, butterfly twinks getting in a fight- his wings should be bigger, damn it."

"Vannamelon be hornin over jax tadc for real-"

"Hell's been better since he SHIT-"

"Oh, fuck mr. Puzzles, oh i HATE HIM AAAHHHH GRRRRRR WHY IS HE SO HOT-"

"Oh, i don't do international shipping, i'm afraid. Afraid of what? Don't be scared, dear...mhmhmhmm...~"

"CaseOh? Spin around"

"silly billy is now my favorite fnf song. OH WAIT, ITS NOT, BECAUSE TRINITY IS MY FAVORITE FNF SON- OH WAIT, OMNIPRESENT IS MY FAVORITE FNF-"

"Turn off lights when you're done with them, you bitch"

most of these were things she said while on her phone, or they were directed at me. Or both. 🤷‍♀️

[silena-styles]

The click of claws on a roof, dust falls down. The alpha wolf is coming, he’s here and he’s near.

Dust swirls, shining gold under the dim candle light. Something else shines, it shines amber in the window, standing out starkly against the inky sky.

Amber eyes. He’s watching you.

grrrrrr..

Welp thank the gods I'm already dead

[oleandy]

The click of claws on a roof, dust falls down. The alpha wolf is coming, he’s here and he’s near.

Dust swirls, shining gold under the dim candle light. Something else shines, it shines amber in the window, standing out starkly against the inky sky.

Amber eyes. He’s watching you.

grrrrrr..

oh my god i remember seeing other ppl get this but it finally showed up in my askbox. evil wolf time rawr

[pesterloglog]

Dave Strider, Karkat Vantas, Rose Lalonde, Jade Harley, Kanaya Maryam, Terezi Pyrope

Act 6, page 6224-6226

DAVE: so

DAVE: has anyone figured out how were actually gonna stop this meteor

DAVE: or was three years not enough time to solve that problem

KARKAT: NO, WE HAVEN'T.

KARKAT: OH MY GOD.

KARKAT: WE'RE STILL TRAVELING AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT, AND WE ONLY SEEM TO BE PICKING UP STEAM!

DAVE: i dont think thats possible dude

DAVE: in fact im not sure we were ever traveling at light speed

DAVE: i think maybe theres been some bogus science in circulation that we been chumped into gettin behind

KARKAT: WHAT?

DAVE: just saying

KARKAT: NO.

KARKAT: *I'M* JUST SAYING.

KARKAT: WE CAME ALL THIS WAY, AND WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!!!

KARKAT: I DON'T BELIEVE THIS.

KARKAT: HOW COULD WE NOT HAVE THOUGHT THIS THROUGH BETTER!

KARKAT: IT'S LIKE THE RECKONING V 2.0. OR 3.0. OR WAIT, MAYBE 4.0 IF WE'RE COUNTING THE BEFORUS SESS... UGH, FUCK THIS SENTENCE I'M SAYING.

KARKAT: HOW COULD IT ALL BOIL DOWN TO *YET ANOTHER* METEOR HURTLING TOWARD SKAIA SERVING AS THE HARBINGER OF OUR IMMINENT DEMISE?

KARKAT: EXCEPT THIS TIME WE'RE *RIDING* THE FUCKING HARBINGER.

KARKAT: WHICH IS IRONIC WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT IT! WE WERE BROUGHT INTO THIS LIFE RIDING A METEOR. MAKES SENSE THAT'S HOW WE'LL ALL GO OUT! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

DAVE: man pull it together

DAVE: this thing has to have some escape pods or something

KARKAT: WHERE! I NEVER SAW ANY!

KARKAT: MAYBE THEY WERE BEING STORED IN THE HYPER GRAVITY CHAMBER!

ROSE: We have a hypher gravitoy chambHIC. Ber?

DAVE: or i guess maybe we could

DAVE: just sort of

DAVE: hop up

DAVE: and

DAVE: like...

DAVE: fly away?

KARKAT: WHY YOU ABHORRENT COLUMN OF SMARMY FILTH. YOU ALWAYS DID KNOW HOW TO RUB SALT IN THE WOUND.

KARKAT: WHAT ABOUT THOSE OF US WHO CAN'T FLY! YOU *KNOW* I CAN'T FLY, AND YOU *KNOW* IT'S A SORE SUBJECT FOR ME!

DAVE: i swear to god

DAVE: this meteor needs one of those baby on board things on the back

DAVE: but like a grub instead of baby for max fidelity to the gag because TROLLZ

DAVE: i know you cant fly dude obviously i would just carry you or something

KARKAT: I'D RATHER FUCKING DIE!!!!!!

ROSE: Don'ot worry guy,s

ROSE: I've vave a fealing evvvvvery thinks gogna work out. ;)

DAVE: rose shut the fuck up

BARK

DAVE: dude did you just bark

KARKAT: WHAT? NO I DIDN'T BARK.

KARKAT: I THOUGHT THAT WAS YOU.

DAVE: why would i bark

KARKAT: WELL WHY THE FUCK WOULD I BARK???

DAVE: because youre having a mental breakdown

KARKAT: WHY DON'T YOU HAVE A MENTAL GO FUCK YOURSELF?

KARKAT: OR! OR WAIT! THEN USE YOUR ALLEGED "TIME POWERS" TO MAKE A COPY OF YOURSELF AND TURN THIS AUDACIOUS PHANTASY INTO A SENSUAL REALITY!

DAVE: nah

BARK

KARKAT: THERE IT WAS AGAIN!

KARKAT: THE BARK HAPPENED AGAIN!

DAVE: wasnt me

KARKAT: WHO THE FUCK IS BARKING.

DAVE: kanaya did you bark

DAVE: you fuckin with us maryam

KANAYA: (hisssss...)

KARKAT: TEREZI, WAS IT YOU???

TEREZI: (grrrrrr...)

KARKAT: WHAT IS IT? WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?

DAVE: maybe the mayor barked

DAVE: mayor was that you

DAVE: haha i bet it was

DAVE: god i love the mayor hes so full of surprises

[enburn-a]

@pruinesce​  said:     tucks a flower in his hair….. 🥺

𝘂𝗻𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗱,     always accepting!

time’s  unyielding  momentum  suddenly  halts  to  a  crashing  stop.     silence  is  encountered  as  the  flower’s  stem  slides  between  the  strands  of  his  hair,     accompanied  with  a  second  or  two  taken  to  secure  its  position.     …     never  has  he  been  good  with  them,     yoriichi  has  never  been  good  with  his  words  before.     difficult  to  interpret  and  understand;     meanings  either  left  mysterious  and  vague  or  nothing  was  said  in  their  place.     even  now  they  remain  lost  on  him,     or  rather,     there  is  nothing  for  him  to  say.     (     though  he’s  sure  any  other  person  could  easily  find  the  words.     something,     anything.     )     he  would  not  blame  her  if  she  grew  tired  of  it:     the  way  his  silence  is  the  only  response  he  can  offer  most  times,     the  way  he  could  not  share  her  smiles  and  laughs  with  matching  ardor.     fuyumi,     does  it  make  you  feel  alone?     this  disconnection  i  have  brought  along  with  me.     …     the  thoughts  that  circulate  in  his  periods  of  deep  thought  weigh  extremely  heavy.     he  wishes  it  was  all  easier.     and  maybe,     despite  every  feeling  of  guilt  and  helplessness  he’s  ever  felt,     it’s  just  how  things  are  meant  to  be.     but  he  is  still  just  a  human.

a  little  kindness  is  all  he  wants,     some  understanding.     but  these  are  things  he  cannot  possibly  ask  for.     intangible.     unspeakable.     inaccessible.

it’s  uncharacteristic  of  this  enigmatic  swordsman  to  grab  at  her  hand  just  before  it  leaves  his  space.    his  eyes  have  already  retreated  its  gaze  to  the  safety  of  the  nothing  that  laid  down  below.     a  sort  of  saddened  expression,     if  stared  into.     a  sort  of  silent  pleading,     if  stared  into  even  longer.     because,     for  just  this  one  instance,     he  cannot  bear  to  stand  another  separation.     so  instead,     for  the  first  time  in  his  life  when  confronted  with  it,     he  holds  on,     holding  the  cusp  of  her  palm  against  him.     (     stay,     he  would  think  to  himself,     just  for  a  second.     )     he  has  bore  witness  to  the  tenderness  of  a  touch  like  this  before,     so  long  ago.     the  memory  of  his  late  lover  uta’s  caress.     the  reminiscence  of  his  mother’s  gentle  stroke  as  he  clung  to  her  side.     foreign  in  its  invasion,     but  unrelentless  all  the  same;     how  forceful  it  was  to  push  him  to  identify  the  ache  in  his  chest,     make  him  acknowledge  that  yes,  yes     —     he  is  alone,     and  he  is  wounded.     he  has  been  so  for  a  very,     very  long  time.

just  once     ...    just  this  one  gentle  touch.     it’s  selfish,     he  knows  this  very  well,     and  unbecoming  of  him:     but  please,     just  this  one  time,     indulge  him.     his  head  bows  and  hides  away  his  features  from  the  presence  of  her  eyes,     bangs  casting  shadows  that  help  him  in  hiding.     no,     he  cannot  possibly  bring  himself  to  look  at  her  now.     slight  turns  and  tilts  of  his  head  fall  perfectly  aligned  with  the  slow  nestle  of  her  palm  and  fingers  under  the  gentle  guide  of  his  own  hand.     a  story  of  hidden  desperation  is  told  when  accompanied  along  with  these  actions,     one  just  barely  readable.     the  acknowledgement,     the  acceptance     —     then,     at  what  can  only  be  presumed  as  the  closing  act;     his  head  turns,     as  if  some  final  revelation  has  been  understood  once  more.     as  if  he  is  now  facing  himself  away  from  the  outlet  of  this  forbidden  longing.

the  hold  he  keeps  on  her  hand  then  releases  without  a  single  utterance  or  beat  of  hesitation.     whether  this  has  been  enough  or  not  means  nothing,     nothing  at  all.     this  has  always  been  his  burden  to  bear  alone.     ❝     thank  you,     fuyumi-san.     ❞     finally,     he  speaks  at  last.     any  indication  to  a  current  emotion  is  as  indiscernible  as  ever,     as  it  always  was  and  has  been.     he  stands  himself  on  his  feet  and  turns  away,     the  black  and  red  tresses  of  his  ponytail  undulating  until  they  settle  on  the  space  of  his  back.     all  the  while  his  face  does  not  once  reveal  itself  to  her  amidst  any  of  it.     

no     ...     he  cannot  possibly  bring  himself  to  look  at  her  now.     ❝     i’ll  be  on  my  way.     ❞

[giantkillerjack]

Yo the writing in this movie is weak as shit

Like, the animation looks good and there are some fun segments, but why is the writing so fucking WEAK???

This is fuckin' embarrassing.

41 years since Miyazaki's Castle of Cagliostro established Lupin could be likeable, and you have somehow made a movie in which Lupin threatens a girl with sexual assault and then also there is a sympathetic Nazi character?????

And! AND! what is this shit?? What is this utter laziness??? EXPLAIN TO ME HOW THIS NOTHING-ASS PLAIN WHITE BREAD CHARACTER DESIGN IS NOT JUST ANNA FROM FROZEN??? EXPLAIN IT TO ME.

And she's next to the Lupin characters, who are so dynamic and alive! She looks like an unfinished 3D model base this is nothing.

And, more importantly, will someone please explain to me why this horrendously-written character is present for the climax instead of anyone in the Lupin gang???

Like, let me be absolutely fucking clear: All this girl actually does in the movie is nearly cause a second Holocaust. Literally, her actions are the thing that allows the Third Reich to nearly regain power. That is the only thing she actually succeeds in. She fails at every other thing she tries to do!

And I don't care that she feels bad about it! I don't care that she did it accidentally! The fact is, this is literally the only impact the writers gave her in the story! The only explicitly Jewish character that survives the movie! They just! Didn't catch the optics on that, I guess! They don't give her something heroic to do later in the film that has any tangible weight to it, either! The old Nazi character does that! They just plum forgot about Laetitia I guess! Too bad she takes up 60% of the screentime in this film!

I mean, this movie starts with a Nazi shooting a Jewish man in the head, and then that Nazi raises that man's granddaughter as his own in order to trick her into doing Nazi shit for him. In the first scene he interacts with her in a parental capacity, it is clear that she fears being beaten by his metal cane. That Nazi then goes on to be framed in a sympathetic and undeniably warm light by the film. He actually does more for the good guys than Laetitia does! His death is given way more weight than the Jewish character he kills at the beginning.

Gods, this is shit. This is so fucking disrespectful.

I mean, if Laetitia was a golden retriever, the plot would have changed literally not at all.

In fact, it would have absolutely been an improvement because then her actions, characterization, and relationships with the other characters would have made sense. She would have been way more likeable too!

GENTLEMEN, If your female character could easily be replaced by a lamp, a prized possession, or a Pomeranian, then you have fucked up.

"Arf! Arf arf! Grrrrrr!!!", "MANGY DOG!!"

And Laetitia is, no mistaking, the main character of this film. THIS film. You know? The film called Lupin that is supposed to be about Lupin except it's actually about the world's most generic girl reacting to Lupin??

And all this focus on Laetitia comes at the expense of time with the Lupin gang!

Fujiko has like 4 lines!

Goemon has like, 6!

No one in this movie has a character arc, WITH THE EXCEPTION OF THE LITERAL ABUSIVE-PARENT NAZI CHARACTER.

OOPSY DAISY.

Anyway, the main value of this movie is that Jigen is so so so so hot. But damn. I do think he could've still been hot in a non-shitty film. 🤔🤔🤔

[bylertruther]

hi!! hope you’re having a good day :) what are some things you’d like to see or expect to see in season 5? 🥰

hello! i hope you're having a good day, too! :D

the list of things that i want is excessive and the list of things that i will genuinely allow myself to truly sit down and expect when i go to press play on s5 is nonexistent. so... !! i'll go for a happy medium, which is... (drum roll, please) 🥁🥁🥁 henry and will interactions.

i am trembling like a damn chihuahua at just the thought of it. not only because they're foils, because this show begins with them, because there's a reason the upside down is a version of hawkins "stuck in time" on the day will went missing and henry knows it, or because the third time that will fights back will surely be the charm, but... because it's just so fucking juicy.

because this is the man that's been after him this whole time. because jamie and noah are acting powerhouses that'll overwhelm me before their scenes together even start. because it's monster vs human, man vs boy, past vs future, despair vs hope, hate vs love, dark vs light, predator vs prey, big bad vs underdog.

because once again will is going to have to look evil in its face and fight for his life. because once again i will have the absolute pleasure of watching characters go batshit because of how much they love him and want to save him. because there's so much going on in will's mind right now after everything and henry is in there with him. because henry is fighting a war against the world, killing, and seething, and planning, and infecting this town with his cruelty, and will has to feel all of it with him through their connection. because SOMETHING is going to have to sever that connection eventually and it's GOING to be something Big and Dramatic because it's been years and somehow after everything, even after removing the particles from his body, he's still connected and he was before the mind flayer ever even came into the equation. because something happened that we're not entirely aware of to make it so.

because henry is evil, manipulative, and exact. because will is good, kind, and pure of heart. because henry is going to try anything to take him back and will is never going to go willingly. because henry wants to kill everyone but him and god fucking dammit I WANNA KNOW WHY!!! (SCREAMED WHILE GRABBING HENRY'S VINES N PULLING ON THEM LIKE A MONKEY WOULD THE BARS OF HIS ENCLOSURE) LET ME IN YOU DIRTY OLD BITCH I WANT TO KNOW WHAT YOU KNOW I WANT TO SEE WHAT YOU'VE SEEN I WANT TO KNOW WHAT IT IS WILL DID THAT MADE YOU WANT TO SPARE HIM I WANT TO KNOW WHAT HE DID THAT MADE YOU WANT TO KILL ELEVEN WHO IS UNDOUBTEDLY STRONGER THAN YOU AND KEEP HIM INSTEAD I WANT TO KNOW WHAT MAKES HIM SPECIAL WHEN HE'S SUPPOSEDLY JUST A REGULAR HUMAN IN EVERYONE'S EYES WHAT IS IT WHY IS HE THE CHOSEN ONE WHY HIM AND WHY YOU GRRRRRR LET ME IN YOU SICK BASTARD GIVE ME THE GODDAMN LORE OR I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD—

[kavehpilled]

ok so mori is fine as hell,,,, like i know he kills people but who cares he's got hawk moth's voice actor in the dub that i am forced to watch for the sake of my attention span

atshushi is a sweet little precious baby boy who could also wreck my shit and my life i am kissing him KUNIKIDA IS SO JIHJGFDFSFG ENOUGH SAID IM BARKING WAGGING MY TAIL LIKE A DOG WOOF WOOF GRRRRRR MWAH MWAH CALL ME A DAZAI KINNIE THE WAY I WANNA JUST HGFDSGHJKLJHGFDDFGHJK

dazai is so fucking funny omg like hes best friend material im gonna have to steal his man but other than that i love him

chuuya is,,, not what i was expecting?? he's a bastard but in a different font than the bastard i was expecting. i thought he was gonna be like janus from sanders sides and he WAS NOT and idk how i feel about him

kyouka is wonderful i dont understand why she was going to be put to death

okay mori has a kickass design but when u get to s2/3 youll understand why hjs personality is a major turnoff 💀💀 i love his outfit tho ughhhhdhdhhd

I LVOE ATSUSHI SO MCUHAHAJSGDJDH

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHDHDHDB DEAR GKD CUPID KH MY GOD. TBH THO SAME I AM MORPJIGN INTO A DOG SO J CAN BARK FOR HIM

god hes jhst like me i love dazai. also, since id assume you're starting s2 soon, youll start to understand why he acts the way he does. hes a genuine man and hes super sweet but he acts differently around dazai (it also makes more sense if you read the 15 light novel, stormbringer, and watch dead apple but yk that takes a lot of time and if ur okah wkth spoilers id be happy to tell u abojt them 👁👁)

OH KYOUKAS OKAY DW WE LOVE KYOUKA SOOMXBFHHF MUCH K LLVE HER SHES NOT GONNA DIE DW

[lubdubsworld]

SECOND CHAPTER DONE!

And oh my GOD! So much happening that I don’t even know where to begin!!

Shyn when I tell you I’m already tearing up. Because Jungkook has some of the most FMALGLALFSL in laws, I don’t even have a WORD to describe how manipulative their grief is... they’re CHOKING Jungkook with the reminder of his dead wife and pushing for money and donations and so purposely targeted towards her likes and loves that Jungkook CANT even begin to forget, as one does with time, because he’s constantly being reminded by them. So YES Heejin. I applaud her for standing up to them and for snapping because Jungkook DESERVES to heal without being stifled by the reminder of Soo Ah, he deserves to try and heal and move on but their own grief is warped in the sense they can’t imagine their daughter’s husband moving on ever. He HAS to be stuck in a time loop for her. So I loved Heejin for saying that and I loved how she snapped at Jungkook. There was so much crackling anger and pain and rage in their conversation and how he’s just reminding her that she’s an intruder on his grief (low blow) and she’s telling him that LIFE GOES ON. Death is an inevitability; she understands how painful it is but he has GOT to live for his daughter, Mina is the reminder AND remainder of his dead wife and for her sake at least he needs to stop drowning in his grief, he needs to live for his daughter at the very least.

And the PAIN! Cos the whole “I bought your body” card is GRRRRRR! And when the in laws go Heejin TELLS him, the drunk excuse isn’t going to work because he’s aroused and wanting her even without being inebriated. He can’t HIDE behind the mask of alcohol and pretend he’s mistaking her for Soo Ah. And that if he IS aroused then own it. Stop being a coward for it. It’s so PAINFUL because their bodies give away the attraction but there’s so many emotional storms and tempests they’ve got to even try make their way through and GAHHH! I LOVE THE ANGST SO MUCH SHYN 😫🤧😭

Yugyeom I feel MAY have a role later in the fic, let’s hope by then Jungkook has thawed into a more human figure and he steps up. The PAIN of when she went to get him for Mina and he just SNAPPED. Because she wasn’t intruding on his grief, she wasn’t trying to be there, but he misunderstood and CRACK broken rib. She’s just... HEEJIN 😭😭 she’s doing so much and yet she’s not even considered by anyone as his wife but if she’s gotta make the damn claim then she’ll MAKE IT!! 😤

That moment of humanity when he actually realised what he’d done, he got Yoongi (AREN’T WE ALL ETERNALLY WEAK FOR THE MAN 😫) to check up on her. Namjoon about to storm towards Yugyeom to confront him- ALSO GOOD ALPHA 🤧 and I can’t wait to see if Jungkook actually does go to Tae for therapy. We all just want you to HEAL JK 🥺

I love love love it! I’m dying and already pulling out tissues and GAHHHHH! I just know it’s gonna be a long road of pain to get to their end.

Also!! The fact Jungkook tells her she can say no for the sex, that he’ll back off— PROGRESS! We don’t ignore or take the small things for granted here 🤧 and I’m rooting them on!

Ahhhhhhhhhh how to answer this ask without spoiling anything....

Can I just say I love you deeply and I'm loving this chance to relive all the emotions with you🥺🥺🥺🥺💋💋💋💞💞💞💞💞 after a particularly shitty day you have been a ray of light 😘😘😘

[poetesswords]

“Don’t be awake after midnight honey ! “

Says the would be bride’s mom to the bride.

“OK, Mamma”,says the Bride.

But how could she sleep when she is still awake inside.

She thinks , “Tomorrow is the day I dreamed of always.

I am getting married to the love of my life.

Should I sleep or dream of tomorrow ?

From when I’ll be called a wife .

Change from Miss to Mrs, Oh! I cannot wait.

But it’s just a matter of few hours.

All the things that are mine today ,

Tomorrow will become ours.

This will be a new chapter of my life,

A new beginning.

But right now,

How do I stop my thoughts from running ?”

Grrrrrrrr Grrrrrrrrr ……..

“What’s this sound Mamma ? Mamma.. “.

The girl goes down to see what’s happening.

Everywhere there are loud noises and shrieks.

The girl stands still in shock with the sight of what is coming.

There are troops of militants with guns in their hands.

“Stop all the preparations”, says one militant.

They stand there guarding the place ,

Blocking the entrance and all the dreams within an instant.

The sight makes the girl and her mom completely shattered.

The shock makes their senses hardly be gathered.

Not only the wedding but the lives are also at stake.

The girl again slips into thoughts with a lightning pace.

“You want a thing which is completely wrong.

And you also do it in a wrong way .

But I have emotions too and what's my fault?

Please let us live and be away.

You sacrifice yours or take others life .

And may not even care for it.

Remember Life is not a game to play with,

And fear as you must repay for what you commit.

For us, Life is an amalgamation of our dreams and aims.

For which we worked and lived for years.

When at last our dreams were about to become real,

Your selfishness and greed became the reason for our fears.”

,

,

At another Place there’s a boy.

Who put his goals very high.

Worked for years, days and nights .

Wrote his exams with faith in lights

At last his dreams are about to become true.

Tomorrow are his results and his aspirations flew.

For tomorrow is his day,

The day he’s waiting for,

Working for ages.

And believes to achieve it for sure.

Grrrrr………Grrrrrr…..

The noises of guns reverberates in the sky,

And the same situation the boy faces.

God knows whether tomorrow will come,

To make the boy win in the life’s important races.

For some this may be a game or a play,

But for some a day may be a dream.

May the boy's future,

Get a ray from the Supreme.

,

,

At another place there lives a mother-to-be,

Carrying her own life in her,

She talks with him every second,

Could feel his heartbeat in her whenever,

Wishing and Dreaming to feel his touch,

To nurse and caress,

To Love and sing a Lullaby for him.

She could never care less.

The baby is her another world,

She imagines his presence with her,

And gets carried away with thoughts of old age,

She prays for his well-being and health altogether.

Grrrrrrrr……Grrrrrrrrrrrrr……..

Again the same thing this lady faces,

With horrifying terror she starts weeping.

The thought that she may not see him,

Not feel or care him is heartbreaking.

,

,

For them Life and death is a Simple Play,

For some it’s everything and a nature’s way.

- 2021, Rachana Agarwal (All rights reserved).

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-09-15

This caught me laaaate at night gosh I’m tired but I’m gonna get it outta the way so it won’t stick in my craw!  Already saw the first page, so it’s time for:

> CHAPTER 13. The Funeral

Church with chess symbols at the peaks and a Prospit/Derse or Hope/Rage split color theme on the stained glass windows.

JANE: Dearly beloved...

> (==>)

Trolls, humans, and papparazzi.  Oh, hm, this church is RATHER carapacian isn’t it?  Between the chess and the continuing Prospit-Derse themes, like how this corresponds to how they align in the incipisphere top-left to bottom-right if I recall:

(Minus the outlying orbs to the left and right for symmetry.)

That twisted pattern is interesting, and not quite a spirograph.  Is that gonna be important later?  If we’re going to get some sort of class chart later in the comic, it’d be easy for them to hint at the chart’s graphical structure subtly by dropping it places like here.

JANE: Ladies... JANE: Gentlemen... JANE: News outlets... JANE: And other valued members of the Human Nation State.

Technically true, but still odd to hear--  ...oh right, I forgot this was asshole dictator-wannabe Jane, too.

I read an interesting twitter thread recently about the intense psychological distinction between wanting to BE the best, and wanting to be TREATED like you’re the best.  Epilogues/HS^2 Jane is kind of written as a case study on the pitfalls of leaning on the latter instead of the former.

> (==>)

They brought Yiffy WITH them-!?  --Oh right.  The hostage exchange was supposed to happen here wasn’t it.

Yiffy definitely looks like a Harley-Lalonde daughter in this shot.

JANE: Gamzee Makara, High Court Jester, exalted saint of the purple veil, has left us to traverse that grand, gay carnival in the sky, where, I am told by various members of the clownly cloth, he will spend the rest of history, honking in grand tribute to the Mirthful Messiah.

SINGULAR???

Weird.  Is it because Alt!Callie “won” here?

Or is Jane just forgetting because she’s culturally used to monotheism (ironically) and is insensitive.

JANE: And my first memory of our Purple Prince, was his robust codpiece--

Wow.

> (==>)

JANE: --As he offered me his friendly support, along with the sacred blood of his brethren, the holy sacrament--

He STILL killed trolls??! (EDIT: No, a friend points out that she's talking about when she met him first in Act 6 and he tried selling bottles of troll blood to her. EDIT2: -which may be another inconsistency, since Vriska supposedly overwrote that post-retcon.)

> (==>)

It takes Jake a few seconds of puzzled eye contact before he catches exactly what it is Yiffany is tossing down. In his defense, he is distracted by his wife’s speech, which is doing the emotional equivalent of wringing him out like a wet towel, before using that towel to slap the sweaty buttocks of a large, odorous man. Even if he knows everything she’s saying is a load of horsefeathers, it does nothing for his composure to hear her heap praise on that smelly, homewrecking clown.

Bad things about Gamzee deserve to be said here, yes.

Jake wonders what she’ll say about him, at his own funeral.

Now those are some uncomfortable thoughts.

He narrows his eyes in Yiffany’s direction. She’s a lovely girl, really. He wishes he could have gotten to know her under better circumstances. He’d known she existed, of course--Jane had complained about her often enough--but they’d never had much chance to get acquainted. He rather believes her and Tavvy would have been fast friends.

Then again, perhaps it’s better that she never had much of a chance to get to know his family.

He lets go of the leash.

Yep, there’s a plan to set in motion that he’s probably already discussed with her privately.  Gotta unite this four-kid team after all.

> (==>)

Wait, are you ATTACKING?!?  --Of course you’re attacking.  You would even if the plan was something different, wouldn’t you.

JANE: And I know that at times like these it is easy to want to give in. JANE: To throw in the towel, and turn our faces away from the light of democracy and moral fortitude that we, the citizens of the human kingdom, are blessed with from birth. JANE: God knows I’ve had my own faith tested in the last few weeks.

Jesus Christ, what has she turned the place into, a fucking theocracy?

She sounds like the leader of some screwed-up, fundamentalist country!  Like the United States!

*rimshot*

JANE: As many of you know, I did not grow up with the same privileges that all of you enjoy.

Jesus.

JANE: I was born on proto-Earth, that half-finished dystopia mangled by the ravages of foolish leadership and endless war.

Jesus, she really IS a self-evident takedown of hypocritical entitled political figures.  With the bonuses having Jasprose explicitly ADDRESS said entitlement to make things even clearer cut.

JANE: And as for Gamzee, well, his upbringing was even worse. JANE: He was born to a violent and uncaring home, a lonely child with few natural gifts.

...Some natural gifts and status.

> (==>)

She’s just, shaking with fury here isn’t she?  And about to perform an impressive corpse-lob.

JANE: It would be simple to let this disgusting, vile, SHAMEFUL act of spiteful revenge turn us away from the blinding light of the sword of justice that hangs over us all--

This sentence seems suspicious so I’m quoting it to refer to later if I need to, but is probably just platitudes.

> (==>)

JANE: Poised

> (==>)

JANE: Trembling

Okay maybe the sword’s a dick, but what exactly is Yiffany doing??  I’m finding it difficult as usual to tell between some of these image transitions.

> (==>)

JANE: Ready to burst forth--

Bad PR to shock-collar a kid mid press junket.  (Very dicks description.)

> (==>)

Click.  (Did they swap the shock function with Jane’s necklace somehow, that’d be fun.)

JANE: I want to give up, at times. I understand your pain.

While shocking a kid?  GREAT PR.

> (==>)

JANE: I sympathize with your pain.

Wow, those horrified audience members.  She REALLY can’t even see herself anymore can she?  Not even hear herself.  And they’re making sure this is pointed out to EVERYONE watching.  They described this as in large part a PR campaign to defeat her, didn’t they?

> (==>)

Great furious businesswoman-villain look, that art.

JANE: But when that pain! Becomes too hard! To endure! JANE: Remember poor, lifeless Gamzee! Who suffered pain far worse than any of us could ever fathom! JANE: THE PAIN OF BETRAYAL!

Click click click.  This is a fun sequence.

> (==>)

DIRK: Dude, didn’t you lower the voltage on that shock collar? DIRK: Little Red isn’t looking so hot. JAKE: Yes of course i did but the damn doohickys got the kick of a donkey! JAKE: I couldnt remove it completely shed know i was the one who did it! DIRK: Well, if that supervillain cuntwaffle doesn’t stop, she’s going to kill her. Not really the best at hostage management, is she.

Decent plan.  (And of course Dirk would pull out the word cunt.)  When’s the cavalry coming?

> (==>)

JANE: But we cannot allow his memory to be in vain! JANE: For Gamzee Makara taught us that even the most loathsome degenerate can take their place in society. JANE: All they need is the right redemption arc - !

Trying to hammer home some of the Epilogue’s trolly-critical themes a little less bleakly, I take it.

I kind of like the violent vibration in ALL of these gifs in a row.  It makes the scene seem small, slow, teeth-clenching but still full of steady action, emphasizing the importance of the relatively small events from panel to panel while giving them the sense with the animation of them being [i]drawn out[/i] and tortuous instead of just “occurring”.  It feels that way to me, anyway.

> (==>)

If he got up alive here, that’d be hilarious.  (Presumably he’s been treated and done-up like a normal funeral body, not “dormant” and undecaying like a dead god-tier.)

> (==>)

CORPSE PUNT w/ CLEATS

> (==>)

That face is just.  I love that face.

> (==>)

SHE MAD

JANE: Young lady, I am just about at the end of my rope with you. JANE: Throw all the dog bowls you want at the walls of my warship. JANE: But don’t you dare act up in front of a JANE: Live JANE: Fucking JANE: Newsfeed! YIFFY: Grrrrrr

What did you expect to happen?  Do you expect to shout her down from this, Jane?

JANE: After everything I’ve done for you--paying for your education, helping your parents cover up your existence from the world! JANE: Just imagine what Rose and Jade would say if they could see you now, even dissidents can have a little decorum! JANE: Get down from there at once! YIFFY: Grrrrrr

But this is GAMZEE.  --I guess it’s seriously disrespectful to his followers, though.  Still.  If you wanted civility from her, a shock collar, leash, and food bowl wasn’t the way to go about it.

JANE: Don’t you threaten me, young lady. Not today! YIFFY: GRRRRRRRRR

What is your PLAN even, Jane?  You’ve completely disregarded her.

JANE: There’s nowhere for you to go. My agents are swarming this church. Be reasonable, Yiffany. JANE: Ugh. JANE: Disgusting name. JANE: But that’s hardly your fault. You were always just a footnote. Your parents’ little prank. JANE: Honestly, that’s why I helped them all those years ago! I do love a good jape. JANE: But let’s be serious. JANE: You don’t matter. If you did, they would have come for you already.

Can all the press hear her being such an asshole?

Okay, stereotypically, their arrival should be the next couple panels:

> (==>)

Jake, do something useful like hoping harder.

> (==>)

And she knocks the remote away.  Excellent.

And she does. Seemingly at the end of her tolerance for insults toward her name, social status, and heritage, Yiffy performs an impressive backflip off the podium and down onto the church floor. One that, if it hadn’t been happening amidst a sea of other newsworthy events, would surely have ended up on someone’s instagram story within thirty seconds. She gives Gamzee’s corpse one last parting kick: a hard, proper kick that proves those cleats aren’t just for fashion. Although they are certainly also for fashion.

Good, good.

He vanishes into the seething crowd, and we are confident that we will never have to deal with this asshole ever again.

God damnit.

> (==>)

Jake watches this from a safe distance, poised on the edge of intervening to pull Yiffy out of there. But in the end he doesn’t have to. Instead he watches in admiration as she tears the place to utter shreds. An echoing sympathy swells inside of him as she rends apart the funeral flowers and punts Gamzee into the shrieking congregation. Here is a girl who felt the cold, indecent hand of fate wrapping around her, and instead of submitting to it and slowly sublimating down into morasse of boiled doormat, she slapped it away from her with a lively oh, no thank you.

All at once, Jake feels immense affection for his granddaughter. He hopes the two of them can make up for lost time.

Lessons belatedly learned, but learned nonetheless.

> (==>)

JANE: Enough of this. JANE: Seize her!

Kind of Red Queen of you.  (Are those stained glass windows in back of the frame about to burst?)

> (==>)

Yep.

The stained glass window shatters inward, obliterated to stardust. The war is knocking.

Even attacking a disgusting faith’s church is pretty bad form, though.

Tired and busy, seeya next upd8.  <3