#God this was a baaaad piece

[mercury-prince]

Now, what I want to see from star trek is how aliens represent other aliens in art. Imagine if that ancient Bajoran guy who space-sailed to cardassia came back and told ppl how cardassians look, spawning hundreds of kinda shitty drawings in bestiaries after a long game of telephone where they barely look recognisable (like these: first is a scorpion, second is a panther)

[Image ID: a square medieval illustration of a creature with a human-ish face, a fish-like body, and four limbs sticking out akimbo. it has a sharp tail that is piercing someone's hand. /.End ID]

[Image ID: a deer-shaped creature with a red belly, face, and legs, a blue back, green butt, and beige neck. it has white streaks coming out of its mouth, as if it's exhaling or spitting. a group of rams, sheep and deer look at it, with very confused expressions. /. End ID]

All the pre-warp species that the federation had broken the prime directive with must have some sick paintings of vaguely humanoid creatures standing around in matching outfits.

BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY: do other species have something like the zodiac? Or drawings of the star systems around their planet, using familiar figures to link different stars together? What did they call the foreign planets, before they learned they were called Vulcan or Romulus or Ferenginar? Imagine all the pre-warp star maps in different alien languages and art styles. the ones we have irl say so much about the cultures they were made in.

first pic [Image ID: a photograph of the nebra sky disk, from 1800-1600 BC. It is a turquoise coloured metal disk with a gold circle representing the sun, a crescent moon, and small circles depicting the Pleiadies star cluster. /. End ID]

second pic [Image ID: an annotated diagram of the Mayan Wakah-Chan Tree, a design found on the burial lid of Lord Pacal, from circa 680 AD. It is an illustrated diagram depicting the sun, moon and planets with intricately patterned symbols. /. End ID]

third pic [Image ID: an illustration from The Book of Fixed Stars by Abd al-Rahman al-Sufi, circa 964 ad. it depicts the constellation of Orion, using a black ink drawing of a kneeling figure with the stars drawn as red circles on different parts of the body. Each of the stars are labelled in Arabic. /. End ID]

I could go on forever about how we love to look into the vast unknown to find reflections of ourselves, and how i think star trek is an extension of that urge we've clearly been having since the dawn of time. Its not just the need to study things that will help with our everyday lives (like looking at the harvest moon), its the way we often take a celestial body and make it the symbol of a human characteristic, like how klingons represent honour and vulcans represent logic. what we think about space and what we do to fill in the gaps of the unknown say a lot about how we think in general. and according to trek we think a lot about weird little blokes in weird little outfits so. yh fair enough

i think this is my most research heavy shitpost ever lmao. but please add ur thoughts or take these ideas however u like

[jesusatemysnatch]

“anything? that right?”

old!logan howlett x f!reader

summary: you end up in logan’s shop with an oil leak and can’t afford to pay him

wc: 2.3k (i’m in hell the brain rot is BAAAAD)

authors note: plot is very cliche like ik eat me. while writing this i took a break and got an edit of logan to tulsa jesus freak. yes i’ve lost my sanity. also i don’t know shit about shit with cars so yea

warnings/tags: MDNI. dubcon. unspecified age gap. logan is a little mean?? reader has no description besides hair long enough for logan to grab, wearing short skirt. logan grabs readers face. hair pulling. big dick logan (canon). pussy pronouns. spanking. throat fucking. degrading. tears. dirty talk. pet names. daddy kink. fingering. aggressive sex. unprotected sex (wrap it up). cream pie. orgasm denial.

your type doesn’t frequent this place, the auto shop on the edge of a town that’s seen better days. most of logan’s customers he’s had for years, he’d grown used to the faces that come through the shop, greeting people on a first name basis at this point in his career. like hell did he ever expect you. you, who stood behind him when he’s hunched down, working beneath the hood of a truck. he didn’t hear you coming, the radio on his workbench drowning out the sound of your footsteps. “shit,” he hissed, peeling back from the piece of shit he’d spent his afternoon working away at, white beater stained with oil and god knows what else. he paused abruptly when he finally noticed you, drawing in a slow breath. if he didn’t have enough on his plate, here you are. a pretty, young thing. in the thick of the summer you’re hardly dressed in much at all, a little top and a short skirt. “ain’t hear you come in,” the clear of his throat echoes off the walls as he walked towards his bench, wiping his hands with a greased up towel. “can i do for you?” his teeth clamp down on the toothpick stuck out his mouth, an oral fixation to try and keep his mind off smoking while on the job. it hardly worked for shit, nicotine always in the back of his mind. the radio gradually softens, pair of glasses pulled onto the bridge of his nose. “think i have an oil leak?” you sound unsure of it, logan nods, scribbling it down onto a forum he kept for his records. “bring ‘er in. take a look,” his boots thud quietly across the floor, walking past you to pull open the garage door. the wiring had gone out a couple months ago and he’s yet to get around to fixing it, muscles straining as he pulled the door up an over his head. he watched you pull your car in, sighing as you stepped back out. “well.. ain’t even have to look. engine sounds like shit, definitely a leak. i’ll pop underneath anyway, see f’somethin’s loose or if it’s a crack.” he nodded, wheeling his creeper out from beneath the bench with his foot. he tries not to groan as he sunk to the floor, his body too old for this shit. he pushes himself up underneath the car, brow knit in a tight furrow as he took a look around to access the problem. “oil pan has a crack, s’pretty fuckin’ bad. i can change it out for you, take me an hour.. hour an a half at most.” he nods, sat upright, an elbow propped against his bent knee. your expression flashes with annoyance and he thought to himself that you looked like a fucking brat, but god damn did you wear it so well. he fights back with the corner of his lips that threatens to tug up.

logan gathered up what he needed, not paying you any mind as you’re left with not much other choice but to sit and wait for him to finish on your car. dressed like this he figured you had better places to be, but he didn’t give a fuck. you came to him, and the way he saw it was your choices were limited to accepting the help and learning some patience or ruining your car. he’s good at the work he does, it’s why he has so many loyal customers, why he’s been in business so long. he could’ve given you some grief for the look you gave him when he told you about the wait- and he still might. “she’s good as new.” he nodded, sliding out from beneath the car with your cracked oil pan. his chest is slick with sweat, glistening under the dull lighting. he brushed his dirty hands against the thighs of his jeans as he stood, tossing your old cracked pan into the trash as he approached his work bench again, quickly jotting down the work that he’d done. “s’goin’ to be.. nine hundred fifty three. s’for the replacement, fresh oil and that god damn look you gave me earlier.” he nods, dropping the clipboard onto the desk. “take cash or card.” his arms cross over his broad torso, forehead creasing as his brow sunk in. “this is a joke, right?” you ask, scoffing out a laugh as you look up at him though his expression doesn’t let up, unamused. “do i look like m’makin’ a fuckin’ joke, sweetheart?” his jaw is clamped tight, his tone flat, serious. “you can’t charge me for a look?” “i can charge you whatever the hell i feel like. i had other shit goin’ on.. could’ve made you wait a hell of a lot longer.” you scoff out in disbelief at him, shaking your head. “i don’t have nine hundred dollars.” you finally admit and logan’s head dropped forward, a low chuckle coming from his lips. when you didn’t pull out a card he knew this shit was going happen. he saw right through you. “alright so.. let me get this straight, sweetheart. you came here for me to look at your car knowin’ you didn’t have the god damn money to pay for it? is that right?” he lacks sympathy for you, pretty as you were you had another thing coming if you thought you were going to pull a fast one on him. “i might be old, girl, but i ain’t no fuckin’ fool. i tell you what.. no money, no fuckin’ keys.” his voice is low, your keys dangled around his finger and he shoves them down into his pocket. he walks away from you, too god damn angry to be stood in front of you, having wasted enough time on you already. “please, you don’t understand.. i need my car. i can pay you what i have right now and bring you the rest next week, please.” you beg, coming up behind him where he’s hunched over again beneath the hood of someone else’s vehicle, the same one he’d been working on when you arrived. “ain’t my god damn problem.” he muttered, biceps flexing beneath his tanned skin as he tightened a bolt in place. “i’ll do anything.” you plea again and logan slowly stops what he’s doing, looking down at the truck battery he was working at. he sighed loudly, recomposing himself as he peeled back from the truck, walking towards the garage door. he reached up, muscles flexing across his back as he pulled the door shut, closing off the inside of his shop from the street view.

“anything? that right?” he’s standing before you now, looking down at your shorter frame. “anything.”* you repeat in a whisper. he drew in a slow, deep breath as your palm slid over the front of his dirty jeans, stepping closer into you until you’re tucked between him and the truck. he groans when your squeeze your palm around him through the denim, your lips curling up to a sinisterly sweet smile when you tug at his belt. he grabs your face hard, lips puffed out slightly when he pulled you in for a kiss. it’s sloppy, his tongue lapping across your lips before dipping into your mouth, an anger filled hunger. he’s pissed off, but you’re pretty enough that he’d be willing to accept your throat as some sort of payment. he looks down at you as you pull back from his kiss, sinking to your knees. he appreciates that you had no issue getting to the point. “i reckon you must’ve been thinkin’ about this the entire time, sweetheart.” logan mused as you grabbed his cock out from inside his jeans, moaning at the sight of him. “bet you ain’t ever seen a cock that big huh, girl?” the palm of his hand pets against the back of your head as you stroke him slowly, his shaft filling out your small palm. “hands behind your back.” he nods slowly, gathering your hair into his fist, holding the back of your head with a tight grasp. he taps the weight of his cock against your tongue before he lays his base flat against you, slowly pulling his hips back as your warm tongue licked over the veins that protrude from tightened foreskin. “nice an wide.” he mutters, feeding the head of his cock into your mouth, a grunt parting his lips when he brushed the back of your throat. god damn. “you’re goin’ to sit here and take it like a champ. reckon you ought’a think about havin’ my god damn money next time. stupid girl.” he warned you before his hips draw back and roll forward, pushing the length of his cock down the curve of your throat. it’s lewd, the repeated squelch of your throat as he pushes himself inside again and again. “should’a known you’d be this big of a slut when i saw you. cute little fuckin’ outfit, barely wearin’ anythin’ at all. just knew how to get an old man goin’.” he grunts, unbothered by the tears that have begun to roll over your cheeks. he’s selfish, using your throat to his advantage, balls slapping the underside of your chin. the cute outfit you’d turned up in ruined by your own slop of saliva as it dribbled out the corners of your mouth. “good fuckin’ girl. payin’ off every fuckin’ dollar.” his skin is slick with sweat, head lulling back against his shoulders, blinded by the dull white light above him. your throat is exactly what he needed at the end of a shitty week, and he had no shame in taking out his stress on you, sure you wouldn’t be forgetting him anytime soon.

when he finally lets up you choke out a cough, spit strung between his soaked cock and your mouth, breathing hard as you look up at him with watery eyes. still, you come chasing for more, hands sat on his denim clad thighs as you licked your tongue along his cock, gasping in a breath of air before you took him back into your throat, craving the feeling once more. “fuck’n hell.. look at you. must really need that god damn car, huh?” his fingers move into your hair again, yanking your mouth back off his cock so he could pull you up from the floor. “ain’t that right, princess? you’d do anythin’ for those keys back, huh?” “yes, daddy.” you choke out and what patience logan had left snaps, swiftly turning you around by the hold he has on your hair. he lifts the skirt up over the swell of your ass, palm of his hand roughly swatting against. you. once, twice, three times. your cheeks are stained red as your legs tremble, impatiently waiting for him to give you more. “let me see ‘er.” logan nods, bent over you and he pulled your panties to the side, spreading your cheeks so he had a perfect view of both holes, your pussy slick with your own arousal.

“you like gettin’ treated like a slut.” he acknowledged, spitting against his fingers before he brings them to your pussy, fingertips swirling your clit before he pressed two long fingers into your core, free hand wrapped around your throat. he stroked his fingers slowly at first but gained speed as your arousal coated him, making it easier for him to plunge his fingers into your tight hole, biceps flexing with each stroke of his fingers, feeling out the warmth of your walls, infatuated with the way your pussy sucks his fingers back in. he grins at the gasp you take in when he replaces his fingers with the head of his cock, pushing yourself up straighter as he sunk himself deep into your pussy. “daddy,” you softly grab at the hand he has around the middle of your throat, moaning as his chest presses up against your back. “you ever been stretched out this good before?” he asks beside your ear, breathing out a quiet laugh when you shake your head no. he grabs your face again, pulling your lips back to his when he fucks into you, hard strokes that press your hips against the grill of the truck, sure to leave you with bruises in days following. he swallows the moans you cry out, roughly driving his hips into yours. he’s unrelenting, giving himself to you hard the way you deserve it, the way you so evidently love it. it’s been a long god damn time since he had pussy this good, and fuck was he obsessed with yours, cursing himself for fixing the troubles your car had given you instead of giving you the run around to keep you coming back for more. hell, with the way you’re fucking yourself back onto his cock you just might anyway. “you’re going to make me cum, daddy,” you choke out, and he grabs at your hips, pulling him deeper into your sopping cunt. “that right? this ain’t even about you, princess. this was for me, remember? who says you’re allowed to cum?” he is brow furrows, getting a rise out of the way you while beneath him, small hands grabbing at the truck. “please, i know it’s not about me but please let me cum, daddy.” you whine, legs trembling beneath you, threatening to cave under your weight. he doesn’t respond, just fucking into your stretched core while you beg him to cum again and again. he ignored you until he spilled first, filling you with thick ropes of his cum, hips flush against yours so you take every drop deep inside. “you want to cum now, sweetheart?” he asked and you nod, rocking your hips back against him as your chase your own high.

needless to say, logan was more than willing to return your keys. and you.. well you might purposefully pop a tire soon.

[roseshewrites]

A GOLDEN PIECE OF YOU~(RadioApple)

*Chapter 3, Second Waltz

Of course Charlie had hung a gigantic WELCOME HOME, DAD sign decorated with rubber duck stickers and rainbows on the stair banisters. She had also tied an unholy amount of balloons on every single balloon-friendly surface she could find in the front lobby, which was surprisingly quite a lot.

Of course, Alastor was standing front and center in front of the group waiting to shout "Welcome!" At him as soon as he walked in. Only the group of misfits that made up the hotel's population all shouted it at random intervals and in varying decibals, Husker coming in last with a deep mutter, and Nifty, who was sitting atop Alastor's shoulders gave a gleeful, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Well, it was the thought that counted.

Of course Alastor said nothing to him whatsoever and only widened his large yellow grin, his red eyes narrowing as he stared Lucifer down.

Charlie cringed and then giggled at the chaos, running to hug him.

"We're all so happy to have you here, dad!"

Minus one.

But, he could put aside a rivalry for now. For Charlie.

"Thanks, babygirl!" He grinned up at her.

Dear gods, she had gotten so tall. So tall and beautiful, and confident.

She certainly did not get any of that from him.

Party chaos ensued.

Alastor was made to play some radio music with a cue from Charlie who cried, "Hit it, DJ!"

("Hit what?")

"Play some music, asshole," Angel Dust supplied helpfully.

"I remember her asking me to supply music to her little party. I don't remember being asked to strike someone named DJ."

"Oh, for fuck's s-"

But the rest of Angel's swear was suddenly drowned out by the loud jazz tunes strumming agressively from the radio demon, who looked like he knew exactly what he was doing.

"DOES THE GUY KNOW ANYTHING ELSE OTHER THAN ELEVATOR WAIT MUSIC-"

The jazz increased in volume till even Angel's shouting was drowned out and Husker was seen in a corner pressing his ears and hissing.

Nifty, unaware of the tension or perhaps feeding upon it, hopped from Alastor's shoulders and proceeded to attempt a messy looking Charelston dance where instead of just holding her arms up, she was also stabbing at the air.

Lucifer sidestepped her quickly before she could impale his ankle, and muttered conspirationally to Charlie, "Is it always like this here?"

His daughter grinned, "Hehe, yeah..pretty much all the time." She scrunched her shoulders sheepishly then said, "But I love it!"

Alastor finally found a reasonable volume for his jazz tunes much to Husker's relief, and twirled Nifty around by her little finger when she asked.

"Spins! Haha!"

"Watch the daggers, darling. They're for the bugs, not my feet, remember?"

"Uppy spins, please. Please, Alastor!"

Nifty was bouncing on her little feet.

"Oh, very well."

The radio demon swooped Nifty up as she demanded, much to her squealing delight, and set the both of them spinning about the room as the jazz music settled into a record crackling waltz.

Oh hell, Lucifer thought. They're so fucking adorable. When had he ever seen Alastor so gentle?

Lucifer caught Charlie grinning at him, and knew she was remembering a time in her childhood when he would do the same thing with her.

"I can't pick you up like that anymore," he said, actually a little bit sad. Maybe just bittersweet. He had missed so much of his little princess' life.

"You can just lift my spirits instead, dad," she laughed.

He chuckled. "That, I can do!"

Nifty pointed out Lucifer from on top of Alastor's neck and when they got closer she cried, "Now go dance with the baaaad boy." She clutched at his ears and giggled.

"I don't know Nifty darling, *is* he a bad boy? Perhaps you should go find out for yourself."

"Hey!" Lucifer said, slightly miffed. "I'll have you know I'm the original bad boy."

"Ooh!" Alastor chuckled, "So touchy. Perhaps a little dance would cheer you up, *King.* "

He was holding out one clawed hand to Lucifer, eyes narrowed at him expectantly.

Nifty clawed her way down Alastor's back and with a little "hup-hup!" Ran off to go stab some bugs, bored with the party.

"Well, I, uhhh.." Lucifer didn't know what to say.

"Oh, no worries, Applesauce, I promised your daughter I'd be on my *best* behavior this evening."

"Well, I suppose one dance wouldn't uhhh...wouldn't hurt," he agreed reluctantly, taking Alastor's hand. "Don't call me that again though."

Alastor swept him seamlessly into the dance. The man was right on time with the music, and led Lucifer around to a perfect pace.

Lucifer fell naturally into the pace too, noting how Alastor had so gracefully taken the lead role. He'd feel irked by that if he wasn't so impressed by how Alastor had a hand on Lucifer's waist, the other lightly holding his hand but yet kept the rest of his body at a respectful distance.

He was being...well, this evening anyway, he was being a perfect gentleman. So far.

"Your footwork is amazing. I like the song, too. Shostakovich."

"Second waltz. You know your music."

Lucifer chuckled, "Kiddo, I invented music."

"HaHa! Don't me call that."

"HaHa! I was created before the garden of Eden was a sparkle in God's eye. You're a kiddo to me," he smirked up at Alastor, whose eyes narrowed and glinted dangerously.

"Ahh yes, that's right. Samael. God's favorite toy. Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?"

"Smooooth," Angel crooned from a corner, whistling at them. Husker not so delicately clocked him on the shoulder. "OW, assfuckinlicker!"

"For your information, KIDDO, it did."

Lucifer spotted his daughter running frantically to try and get Alastor's attention and saw her whisper-shouting "IXNAY. ON THE SAMAEL-HAY."

Vaggie's face palm from this was audible.

"It's Amael-Say, babe. And EVERYONE heard you."

"Shit."

"You know what? That's okay," Lucifer broke free from Alastor's arms, standing back, "You wanna dead name me for no reason, bastard? You got a problem or something?"

"Dad! Dad, I'm - I'm sure he didn't mean it like that, did you Alastor?"

Alastor was very catlike observing his own claws, eyebrows delicately raised, "Really, I was simply making conversation. How was I supposed to know your father was still sensitive about something that happened so long ago?"

"See?" Charlie appealed, "And you're sorry, right? For hurting dad's feelings?"

Alastor just stared at her deadpan grinning, the radio waves about him crackling loudly.

"We'll, uhhh....we'll work on that one."

The party broke shortly after that with Angel dragging Husker off to go to the bar, Alastor bidding everyone a good night and Niffty was... Well, she was doing Nifty things. Where did she even sleep?, Lucifer wondered.

"Thanks for the welcome, Ducky," Lucifer yawned, "But your old dad's beat. Got stuff to unpack before I hit the hay."

Charlie looked at Vaggie then glanced at her dad. She gave her girlfriend a look and said "Go on ahead, I'll be up in a minute."

Both Lucifer and Vaggie exchanged looks that seemed like a moment of solidarity.

Because both of them knew Charlie, and they both knew no one was sleeping until SOMETHING had been resolved.

Behind her girlfriend's back Vaggie mouthed Good Luck at Lucifer, who winked in return.

When everyone else had gone to bed, Charlie and Lucifer stepped into a living area on one of the upper floors. Lucifer sighed and collapsed on a nearby sofa, flinging his top hat to the side.

She sat down next to him, looking a bit nervous.

"Okay. What is it? Spit it out, junior."

"I...just wanted to make sure....that Alastor's little comment didn't um...get under your skin too much."

"Oh please! I'm not worried about that jerk."

"You're really all right?"

"Charlie," Lucifer said impatiently, "I know you're worried I'm going to....maybe...fall back into some old habits of mine. You know my problems and that worry is certainly valid, sweetheart, but I haven't had a post-traumatic whatever in ages."

"So you're not gonna..."

"No self isolation," he said firmly, "No episodes. And I'm certainly not gonna let a reminder of my time in Heaven ruin my sleep tonight."

She grinned, her face lighting up like he loved so much.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for moving in with me."

"Of course!" He brightened, "Char, you know what we're gonna DO with this place?"

"No, what!" She was sitting in the edge of her seat now.

"We're gonna take hell by storm with it, Ducky. In a month it'll be so full of patrons we'll need to build."

"Yeah!! And after that?"

"Your dreams are gonna come true. I'll make sure of it."

After promises of going over group plans with her in the morning, they began to part ways but not before his daughter scooped him up in a twirling hug that lifted his feet off the floor.

"I love you Dad!!"

He chuckled when she set him down and he took his hat off and placed it on her head, walking off to his room.

"Love you too, darlin'. Good night."

~

He was walking down one of the hotel's many hallways when a slight burst of conversation came to his attention, punctuated by that distinct radio crackle.

Dammit, he was not in the mood for another encounter with jerkface McRadio.

The two characters rounded the corner though, and he was trapped.

Alastor was being followed around by one of Sir Pentious' remaining Egg Bois, who was bopping along talking Alastor's ears off in a steady stream, Alastor nodding and "Mmhmm"-ing in all the right places, tolerating the Egg's enthusiasm.

"Say, boss, I gotta joke for yah!"

"Sure, Egburt."

"Why did the chicken cross the road?!"

"I don't know, why *did* the chicken cross the road?"

"Because America’s aging infrastructure doesn’t adequately provide footbridges or pedestrian underpasses!!!"

There was almost an audible pause, then Alastor cracked up, a real honest laugh that echoed around the hall.

"Oh my dear Egg, you do have your moments of lucidity, don't you?"

"Whatsat??"

"Never you mind. Now run along, there, I've preparations for tomorrow's broadcast."

 

"Okay!!"

The egg bopped ahead of Alastor, promptly rounding the corner ahead and leaving Lucifer alone...again...with the radio demon.

"So..Egburt, huh?" Lucifer remarked, just to break the silence.

"He answers to just about anything. Egburt, Egghead, The Great Eggsbie. Just don't expect him to understand that reference."

"Right..."

"I suppose I'll see you for your daughter's most recent group excercise itinerary in the coming weeks. It should be...enlightening."

Uh-oh. Charlie hadn't mentioned anything about that to him. Things at the party had been so chaotic, and then he'd gone and ruined things by getting pissy with Alastor, and..

"Yup, sure will," Lucifer aimed for assuming an air that he completely understood what the hell Alastor was talking about, and bid him goodnight; cringing inwardly that he went to tip his hat, then forgot he wasn't currently wearing it, disguised the movement with an awkward head scratch and left to the sound of Alastor chuckling deeply to himself as they both went their separate ways.

Enlightening.

Hooray.

What did Alastor know that he didn't?

[rhiandoesfandom]

My Partner and I with My Chronic Illness

Me: Ughhh my legs hurt so baaaad I just wanna be a doll that can pull off pieces of myself when they hurt then put them back on when they're done hurting.

My partner: Well you can when we merge with the robots.

Me: that brings in so many moral problems

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

Me: It hurtssss

My partner: lemme guess, everything?

Me: No just this one specific spot on my head. Yes everything!

My partner: well sometimes you have a migraine! And it is a specific spot on your head!

Me:.....touché.

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

Me: *whining and throwing my sweater on the ground*

My partner: You good?

Me: no 😭 I'm hot then I'm cold then I'm hot then I'm cold I can't win!!!!!!

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

My partner: *gets up in the middle of the night to go to the restroom* why are you still up it's like 2am?

Me: it feels like my legs and feet are being squeezed into a juice

My partner: ☹️ right, sorry I asked

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

Me: ahhh whyyy gods whyy

My partner: what? What happened?!

Me: I took off my compression garments and my joints feel sprained again 😭

My partner: my poor baby ☹️

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

My partner: *cutting my hair, we're standing* you doing good?

Me: yeah jus...getting a little dizzy.

My partner: 😑 hold on. *Runs and brings me my cane*

Me:....thanks.

My partner: shoulda used it from the start silly.

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

Me: I wanna sleep so bad but I need to eat food.

My partner: Any particular food?

Me: *shrugs* just no beans

My partner: *30 min later comes up with baked chicken and sides, shakes me awake* sweetie dinner 😋

Me: hmm? Ohhh food. Thank you.

[daemon-in-my-head]

The god, the mortal, and the man that was both. Who's side will you pick, poor wretched soul?

Screams in my pillow. I want to write about it so baaaad.

Maybe I should clarify I'm just letting my queue empty itself as I very much focus on writing the greatest pieces of debauchery on the side, apologies for the lack of activity, I dont check here too often. I need to write men misusing several spells for unholy purposes.

[gayberdnird]

Oh she definitely left a piece of nerve behind oh my god this hurts so baaaad

[adamwatchesmovies]

Percy Jackson: Sea of Monsters (2013)

While I didn't enjoy this film, that doesn't mean you won't. No matter what I say, the people involved in this project did it: they actually made a movie. That's something to be applauded. With that established...

The Percy Jackson series got off to a wobbly start but a sequel had every opportunity to expand on what worked and ditch the rest. Now that we’d gotten over all the introductions, we’d be able to dig in properly. Maybe we could explore a more complicated story, get to know the characters better and see them grow the way the heroes in the Harry Potter series did with each subsequent chapter. Unfortunately, your hopes for Percy Jackson: Sea of Monsters are dashed away by Marc Guggenheim's terrible screenplay. By the time it gets to a conclusion that promises “we’ve got even more coming in the third one!” you want to tell it not to bother.

Set some time after the events of the first movie, Percy Jackson (Logan Lerman) is the son of Poseidon, a demi-god who trains at Camp Half-Blood with the sons and daughters of the Greek Pantheon. His best friends are Grover (Brandon T. Jackson), a satyr, and Annabeth (Alexandra Daddario), the daughter of Athena. When the magical tree that protects the camp from attacks begins to die, the trio chooses to defy their elders’ orders and go on a quest to save it. To do so, they must travel to the Sea of Monsters and recover the Golden Fleece. Tagging along is Percy’s newly-discovered half-brother, a cyclops named Tyson (Douglas Smith). While Percy wonders if he’s up to the task or simply a one-quest wonder, the cyclops’ presence worries Annabeth.

The problems are immediately recognizable. Percy worries he’s not the hero of legend because he’s only saved the world once? How can anyone relate to his “woe is me” attitude? Similarly, Annabeth not trusting Tyson just doesn’t feel right. It’s pretty obvious her aversion to the one-eyed dummy stems from some past traumatic experience but the film fails to make us understand why she’s all secretive about it. We see cyclopses act villainous but those are big, adult ones that tower over our heroes. Will Tyson even grow up to be that size? He seems too stupid to pose any threat. She simply comes off as racist.

It begins on the wrong foot and from there, things don’t get much better. We learn of a prophecy. We're told a child of the three elder gods will either save Olympus, or destroy it (what’s the alternative?) while battling with Luke Castellan (Jake Abel), the villainous son of Hermes that served as the antagonist of the previous film. I could’ve sworn he was dead, but sure. Now I know what you’re thinking. Hmm. What a coincidence. Didn't we just meet a new son of Poseidon mere moments ago? I won’t say too much but let's put it this way. This is a baaaad screenplay that makes obvious mistakes. Tyson’s part in this story is one of them.

As our heroes travel outside of Camp Half-Blood, they obviously have to travel inconspicuously among Muggles, which means they have to disguise Tyson using a magic potion… that Annabeth brought along with her for no reason? Their means of travel is a discount-version of the Night Bus from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban and the price of admission is a torrent of horrible jokes the film thinks are really funny. You tolerate them, always reminding yourself of that titular Sea of Monsters. "Once we get there, things will turn around." I’ve got some bad news for you. There aren’t a whole lot of monsters in this movie and when we encounter them, they’re kraken-sized disappointments. Every confrontation between the heroes and the villains feels like a piece of cake. At least the special effects are pretty good but this whole adventure feels like it’s missing something.

Percy Jackson: Sea of Monsters is nothing more than a knockoff of the Harry Potter films. Whether this is the case with the books as well I can’t tell but if it was implied with the last film, it’s cripplingly obvious here. Percy Jackson 2 puts all of its weight on familiar tropes and plot threads like its left leg’s just been chopped off. It can’t even manage to do that right. Numerous plot threads and characters are introduced and given no purpose. This film's intended audience is too smart to fall for such a lacklustre sequel. (February 14, 2020)

[miyukas]

my god this was so cute i have such a soft spot for sion this made me sob so hard

When he was at his weakest, you were his strength. When he felt broken, you pieced him back together again.

WHY WAS THIS SO POETIC AND WHY DID IT GET ME SO BAAAAD this was such a comforting read i wanted. no NEEDED to actually be reader :( yes ill comfort u through sleepless and stressful nights my sweet sioningz ill protect u from all the evils (work) in the world :(

⏾　SLEEPLESS NIGHTS　( 오시온 )

genre hurt/comfort , established relationship , sion x fem!reader   cw sion is stressed & can't sleep , maybe a bit of overworking mentioned , not proofread   wc 875   request anon for sion + waking up from a bad dream for the 3k event   note oof this took a lil while to write and post since i rewrote it like 3 times but it's finally here!!   net @ncity-net @kstrucknet @chrimatanet

Sion was always one to put up a bold front. He was the oldest in his team, the leader, and as such, he had the responsibility of being a rock for everyone else to lean on. The cornerstone: immovable and unshakeable. He loved goofing around, smiling and laughing, mostly at his members, the people he was closest to. It was therapeutic in a way. Seeing them happy made him happy. All the stress he put on himself for them was worth it just to see them smile. 

But when he got home to you, the chance to truly decompress from that stress came. And on particularly hard days at work, or a bad week building up, Sion felt close to breaking by the time he got home to you. You seemed to always know exactly what was going on in his head and exactly what he needed to relax. Somehow, you were able to repair him enough so he felt strong again for the next day.

He wondered what he would even do without you. While everyone was relying on him throughout the day, Sion relied on you during the night. Every warm hug, comforting kiss, and soft-spoken word reminded him that you would already be right by his side, through the highs and the lows. Whatever storm clouds blackened his mind; you were right there to fight them off, to bring the sun back again. 

And sometimes, all it took was some rain.

Sion couldn’t sleep well. It was unusual. The man who claimed he could easily sleep for 24 hours straight was now unable to fall into that dreamland, despite how exhausted his body was. He kept drifting in and out of dreams— all of them unpleasant. His schedule had been particularly busy that week, and his workload as the leader was especially challenging. He tried to not let it affect the team, always doing the best he could regardless of his mental or physical state. Professionalism seemed to run through his veins. He wanted to set a good example for the younger boys as well. He couldn’t show how much he was struggling as well. Not in front of them. 

But, in front of you, he was able to be vulnerable. He could tell you all his worries without it affecting team morale. You were a shoulder to lean on— his comfort. He relied on you more than he would like to admit. There were always fun times in your relationship, but nothing was ever perfect. During the harder times, you held each other tighter and got through it as a team. If there was one thing you promised when you first called Sion your boyfriend, was that you wouldn’t leave him to suffer through something alone. 

Sion tossed and turned, mind dizzy from the miserable dreams he was having whenever he managed to force his body to sleep. It was probably 3AM by now, and he knew he had to get up by 6. He needed more sleep.

He hated disturbing you, especially when you looked so comfortable under the blankets, one leg propped up over his under them. But he also knew what you would say if you saw him leave for work tired again. Your skin was warm, and he was aching to hold you closer. So, he swallowed his selflessness and turned over, leaving the blank ceiling from his vision and replacing it with your sleeping face. 

He rubbed your arm gently, waiting for you to stir. And it didn’t take long; you had always been a light sleeper, unlike him. Once you blinked your eyes open enough to adjust your vision, noticing the outline of your boyfriend’s face and how he was awake, you knew something must be wrong. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” you sat up, fully alert by now. Your boyfriend was never awake this late in the night. You were about to reach for the lamp until Sion’s hand stopped you. 

“It’s nothing serious. Just can’t sleep,” he mumbled, voice sleepier than yours despite his obvious lack of it. 

“Can’t sleep? That is serious,” you pointed out, lying back down on the pillow. “Nightmares?” 

“Yeah, I guess. I think I’m just stressed,” your boyfriend admitted, hand rubbing over his eyes. 

“Work has been a lot lately. I’ll help you get to sleep. Come here,” you motioned him closer, and Sion obliged, falling into your arms with ease. You adjusted his messy hair to be out of his face and rubbed his back, hoping to lull him to sleep as quickly as possible. A 7AM workday start certainly didn’t leave much more time. 

“You put too much pressure on yourself, baby,” you reminded him while your fingers traced lines over his face in a soothing manner. He hummed in acknowledgement, agreeing to your statement wordlessly. 

You knew it would take more of you repeating those words for him to truly ease some of that pressure off his back, but you were determined to win the race steadily. In these simple moments, your love for Sion shone the brightest. When he was at his weakest, you were his strength. When he felt broken, you pieced him back together again. And he knew he could always rely on you.

nct wish taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @lexeees,, @nyukyusnz,, @planetkiimchi,,

@haecien,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @hursheys,, @mjupis,,

@lilly-cherry7,, @kpopandbookschild,, @taroddori,, @lexeees,, @voikiraz,,

@xikskrrrs,, @cupidslovearrows

[clusterfuck-dom]

A simple one

Uhhh sniper mask

WIP I

Sub Sniper Mask x Dom Reader

Y’all want this man so BAAAAD.

18+ / NSFW CONTENT.

Reader is gender neutral.

Contains: just slight praising and begging. And a cliffhanger, oh no.

“On your knees,” you firmly instructed him.

The sentence barely left your mouth before you watched him practically collapse to the floor. A loud thud echoed through the room, and part of your mind wondered if there were dark bruises now forming on his knees. But that didn’t matter right now; all that mattered was the shivering masked male now kneeling in front of you, his white dress shirt still buttoned and doing a poor job at covering his bare legs. You bit the inside of your cheek at the sight of his shoulders stuttering with every uneven breath he took.

You honestly never thought you would see this side of him; submissive and obedient, looking up at you as though you were some god. Though you couldn’t see his eyes, you caught sight of the dark shade of pink that peaked out from behind his mask… god, that mask. Your hand gingerly threaded through his dark hair and trailed down to the side of his face. He seemed to know what you were after, because he titled his chin upwards without missing a beat. Taking this as a sign of consent, your fingers gently pried between the mask and his face, finally lifting the piece of porcelain up to slide off his head.

And you were greeted with quite the sight.

Pretty eyes were glazed over and hooded, the steely coloration mixing well with his pure look of desire. His face was flushed with that same dark pink color you saw peaking out from behind his mask; a delectable color that suited him well, might you add. And those lips… though chapped, they looked absolutely desirable with how they were delicately parted. He must’ve recently ran his tongue over them, because there was a thin layer of saliva on his bottom lip.

“What a pretty man,” you commented with total adoration, letting his mask drop behind him so you could let your hand return to the side of his face (the skin was surprisingly soft to the touch… perhaps he takes pride in some sort of skin care routine). A soft but low hum came from his vocal cords as his eyes fluttered shut. Heat poured into the lower region of your abdomen as he leaned into your touch.

Before you knew it, his eyes fluttered open again and connected directly with yours. You could feel how needy he was just from his gaze alone; how he wanted you to run your hands all over his body and fuck him right then, right there. His milky thighs rubbed against each other as you watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down.

“Please,” he pathetically begged, his deep voice shaky from anticipation. “Take me.”

[early20sfailingplenty]

Alright. TMI! When my periods are bad, they are baaaad. Debilitating cramps. Night sweats. Crazypants emotions. And the obvious, Aunt Flooooo. Why do I bring this up? Aside from personalization is honestly, I think Bo thinks his partner is kinda badass for just making it through most months. But when it's bad he's needed, desperately. You know he loves it! He loves they can't get all big and bad for him, they're needy for attention, and he gets to eat all the gross food he wants to because they have cravings. I just feel like all them boys would be great at dealing with it honestly. But I crave Bo. Hehe

Big sis!!!💗So, you know why I offered to write you a personalised blurb (👀), and I'M SO EXCITED TO WRITE THIS FOR YOU!!!! You and Bo always flow so beautifully when I write the both of you and I'm more than happy about diving in once again! Hopefully this piece lives up to the last one I wrote you! And if not, please don't be shy about letting me know and I'll happily write you something else!🌸 I love you lots!

Been working on this for a while but I figured your birthday was the best day to post it!! (Hence my question about timezones...👀 didn't wanna miss the day!!!) Hope you're having a wonderful day (one as lovely as you or I'll square up to the universe!🔪) and some goodness!! You deserve it all and MORE!!!!💖

So, warnings! THIS IS NOT A READER INSERT PIECE; she/they pronouns, "you" and Bug used, talks of periods, blood, pain, taking unprescribed painkillers, strange emotional patterns, Bo is My Brand Of Soft™ (so you KNOW I made myself cry writing it😂), swearing, possessive language ("his Bug"/"your Bo" etc.), canon typical depictions of co-dependency between the beautiful and terrible twins.

Word count: 2, 153 (😳)

Every month, you dreaded the inevitable. Every month, you had to mentally prepare yourself weeks in advance to experience debilitating pain, night sweats, the cravings which changed every time you thought you had it satiated, emotions on such a rollercoaster that you wanted to get off the ride even before you were fully boarded, and the blood... who needed horror films, when you got to deal with a massacre in your underwear every few hours for days on end? God, if it wasn't for the fact that you experienced periods so you were used to it, Bo would wonder how the fuck you were able to stomach the sight of all the blood he and his brothers occasionally came home caked in. Sometimes, he still marvelled at how well you handled yourself when Aunt Flo came to visit... he could never fuckin' do it.

Shit, even if he could, he wouldn't want to. Neither did you, but you dealt with it anyway. A blank stare or a teary eye roll and a, "for fuck's sake" would be your only reaction before you took your stained clothes and sheets to cold water. No matter how well you prepared yourself, you were almost guaranteed to leak and to ruin at least two articles of clothing. You fucking hated it. You were a constant mess throughout, no matter what you did or didn't do to help yourself along the way. You were always able to get the majority of the blood out before you tossed the clothes in the washer to salvage the material from whatever your bare hands couldn't remove, and your intimate knowledge of bodily stains and how to remove them was just one of the many, many things Bo admired and appreciated about you. He had learned so much just from watching you take care of yourself, and he was a quick study. He could take just as good care of you as you could after just a few months of witnessing your periods and what it did to you; before, during and after the bleeding stopped.

So, in fact, could his brothers.

It wasn't unusual to find you curled up in bed or on the sofa for much of the time you were menstruating. Bo had taken to leaving your favourite blanket always slung over the back of the sofa for times like that; sometimes he couldn't - wouldn't - move you from the sofa to the bed for all the pain you were in. Sometimes it was best to leave you where you had found a comfortable position, even if, to the brothers, it looked extremely awkward. Still, when you were found there but stretching hurt you, one of the brothers would throw the blanket over you, adjust any pillows, and make sure that the pad of paper next to the sofa was updated with what medication you had taken to help with the pain - if you took anything - when you had taken it, and how long it took for it to kick in. The living room almost seemed to become an at-home hospital room for the clinical attitude with which Vincent approached taking care of you. If you voiced how unnecessary it was - for, indeed, he was known to be overprotective - then he would simply glare at you through his mask. A clear message to let him take care of you; he was going to, whether you wanted him to or not. It felt like being stabbed with a shard of ice to the heart, so you kept quiet. If Vincent was anyone else, you wouldn't have done, but you had learned to appreciate the... strange ways with which Vincent showed his love and support to other Sinclairs.

If you questioned his methods of self-expression, he would clam up so fast that you would never again be able to peek over the top of the walls built up so high within him that even Vincent had to stand up on the very tops of his toes to see over the broad edge. He was so much like Bo when it came to his emotional unavailability, among a great deal of other traits, or perhaps Bo was like Vincent in that way. It was hard to tell, even now, for their ways of taking care of you were so similar. They fed off each other, co-dependency fostered, festered, between them from so young a age that there could have been any other path for them but the one they had been on for decades before you had come into their lives.

No Sinclair was easy to read, and that was why love and gratitude hit you as hard as they did when Bo was sweet on you and took care of you. He thought that you were such a badass for being able to get through each month as it came; your periods knocked the absolute six out of you and it was all you could do to keep the space between your thighs and your clothes, bedsheets and anything else you touched clean of blood (it got everywhere), let alone handling your daily responsibilities and duties on top of your cravings, emotional whiplash, and everything else which plagued you as your body went through a mini birth to expel the uterine lining. It was amazing how you were able to function as if you weren't bleeding non-stop, and Bo couldn't help but to shake his head in wonder at you as you, yet again, moaned your way off the sofa to help him with something which he had already told you thrice was handled by him and his brothers. All he wanted was for you to rest, especially when it was so bad that you could only lay down, staring blankly at the television, tears rolling down your face from the pain despite the regular doses of painkillers which Vincent gave you.

"Would ya' quit movin' around? Y're starting to bug me," Bo's minute smile at his pun, just a small upward quirk of those sinful lips, died just as it was big enough for someone else to notice, because you looked rough and he so hated seeing you looking every inch as miserable as you felt. But, still, you were gorgeous, beautiful, and he loved you dearly. "Makin' y'reself hurt more, s'not right, darlin'. Keep still, yeah?"

Bo's hands hovered on either side of you, as if to stop you from getting up, but you were in too much pain to notice. When you needed Bo, you needed him badly, and he would lying if he said that he didn't love this one part of your period. Your need for him and for his comfort only increased, as did your dependency on his brothers to help take care of you, though you could and would take care of yourself; they just liked to support you and you let them because you loved them. If they overstepped, you told them. If they didn't do enough, you would tell them. You were very communicative; you had had to learn to be from too young an age.

You wanted Bo's attention more than anything right now, you needed his touch, his voice, his smile, his eyes, the very particular way he tucked your feet in with the blanket and made his way up your body by tucking you in at both sides at the same time, then making sure you were able to move around if you needed to, his hands delving under the blanket and searching for the heat pad, fingers rubbing at your belly as he did so. You needed Bo and he played into it as much as possible, not just because he needed to be needed by you, but also because he wanted to thank you, in his own way, for showing such vulnerability in front of him. It wasn't easy for you to be strong but it wasn't easy to show the true extent of your pain, either. You loved Vincent and Lester, you did, but you craved Bo.

It was the one craving you could never satiate; the more you had of Bo, the more and more you wanted him. It was a sweet torture, the most delicious burning, and he was aflame right beside you, for a flame shared is a flame doubled. Bo seemed to reward you for loving him by returning that love to you tenfold, especially when Aunt Flo, the callous bitch, was in town. She could give Trudy a run for her money for all the pain she put you through each month.

"Bo ~ " You practically whined as you lifted your arms up to Bo, as if to say, 'pick me up'. "Hurts." Oh, but even that small movement caused you pain and you winced, that frown Bo hated deepening on your face. Immediately, Bo straightened up and grabbed the notepad left on the side table, icy blues scanning the page to see when you last had some painkillers. Two hours ago, he could say with confidence, thanks to Vincent's meticulous and thoughtful record keeping.

"M'sorry, darlin'," Bo sighed, his lips turning down in a genuine look of sympathy, "Can't give ya' anythin' for at least another hour."

You shrugged. It wasn't the pain bothering you. It was the lack of Bo cuddles. "Don't want medicine," You held your arms up again and this time, Bo leant down, down, until he could gingerly wrap his arms around your middle from where you sat on the sofa, his chin resting on the gentle slope of your shoulder, "Want my Bo."

"Your Bo, huh?" The smug tone Bo was trying to achieve was utterly ruined by the more than obvious affectionate expression. He turned his head and pressed a series of kisses to the side of your face; starting at your temple and moving down to the corner of your jaw. "I got'cha, darlin', y'know I ain't gonna' say no. Not when yer' like this."

"Or ever."

Bo nodded in agreement as he eased himself down beside you, lifting an arm up so you could curl right into his side, practically sat on his lap. "Right." A pause and then, "C'mere, love, get in real tight. Make ya' snug as a bug in a rug."

Lester's fond chuckle in response to his brother's penchant for shitty puns (where else did Lester inherit his sense of humour from? The twins had practically raised him) coming from the other room made Bo smile, which in turn made your heart melt and you smiled, too, a sweet reprieve from the constant pain you were in. Seeing you relax into Bo's body made Vincent happy from where he was painting across the other side of the room, and sweet Jonesy, spread out on the kitchen floor, wagged her tail slowly as she took stock of all her humans under one roof together. Mama Vincent was her favourite, though.

You hissed in pain and Bo cooed. The sound was devoid of his usual mockery as his hand slid beneath the blankets, fingertips quickly finding and then brushing against the skin just beneath the waistband of your trousers. Your navel tingled with the ghost of his touch as Bo rubbed small circles into your skin, the pressure just right due to how carefully you had taught him to look after you; Bo loved you just as much as you loved him, and he was eager to learn, wanting to please, needing you just as you needed him.

"Shush, darlin', s'okay," Bo pressed a tender kiss to your forehead and let his lips rest there, as if his kiss could sink into your skin and ease your pain from the inside out. He certainly wanted it to. "Bo's got'cha."

He did. Come hell or high water, Bo would always protect you. And if he couldn't, well, he'd stay right beside you until whatever it was passed, even if that was your body carrying out a very natural and normal function. Especially then, for he so hated seeing you in pain. His Bug.

With that, he turned the television on, put the volume on low, and you fell asleep to the feeling of fingers in your hair, lips at your temple, arms and a blanket around you, the distant sound of a paintbrush over a canvas, the quick sounds of a knife whittling away at a piece of wood, and the quiet thump of Jonesy's tail against the tiled kitchen floor. You found your rest in Bo's embrace and as for Bo, well, his rage was stilled by your presence, but his nerves amplified.

Your birthday was coming up, and he had a ring in his pocket with your name on it. Quite literally; it was a personalised pre-emptive congratulatory touch from Vincent.

You and Bo were practically already married; what was making it official?

[aifsaath]

To understand the white Princess, it’s meant to be watched after the white queen. Your question make sense if you watch the first series. Also the way it’s write is it takes the rumour of history and uses them as fact so yeah defo not historical accurate. Example the Elizabeth and Richard that whole weird thing was a rumour at the time like u said not a fact but it was a rumour hence why it used in this, same with one of the boys in the towers getting away was a rumour at the time but not fact cause everyone can argue they both mostly died in the tower. Basically the series works in a alternate universe in the way the rumours are seen as fact. Hope that makes some sense.

Dear Anon,

believe it or not, I'm well aware of the concept of fabulation. But in order for me to actually enjoy a show that pretends it is about a historical figure while going wild with theories, I need it to have 1) characters whose actions follow a logical path congruent with the world they inhabit (which does not happen; what the hell is that incesty thing with Richard III; if he proclaimed her a bastard, he cannot marry her. if he de-bastardizes her, his whole kingship is illegitimate; if he just said that in order to shag his own niece, then she's a simpleton) (or that fucking Elizabeth Woodville thing whose political decisions are made under the influence of some illicit substance), 2) if the show tries to sell itself as a piece of feminist media it needs to be inhabited with three-dimensional female characters. The only slightly less flat character here is EoY - BARELY. What they did to Margaret Beaufort is a plain character assassination. Elizabeth Woodville is an insufferable moron who can't plan for a dinner let alone a political action with sufficient contingency plans and I stand by it.

What I'm trying to say is that someone should ban Philippa Gregory and the showrunners from ever getting near a typing device. AND THAT IS GOD'S WILL*

*That fucking line is the most infuriating thing they could've done. They didn't write a character. They wrote a Mother-in-Law-From-Hell caricature. Like SUUUURE she'd order her hissy-fits-throwing-son to rape EoY who even isn't his wife yet and they debate that in the middle of a packed hall where EVERYONE can hear them because "let's just show how baaaad we are"

Like what the hell happened. H7&EoY weren't the rare mutually supportive royal otp for an author to get them so wrong. Like

[nautilusopus]

do you have any favorite books?

Coraline by Neil Gaiman is the obvious answer lol. Still my favourite book to this day, obviously hugely influential in my own bullshit. Seriously check it out if you can find a copy, it’s pretty short and absolutely worth your time.

The Devil’s Storybook by Natalie Babbitt and its sequel (The Devil’s Other Storybook) are more of an anthology of short stories starring the Devil, who occupies every role from vague background presence to put-upon protagonist that are funny and thought-provoking and genuinely clever and that pissed enough people off that it was a banned book for a while. “The Imp in the Basket” is the kind of short story I wish more people knew about and wanted to sincerely discuss what actually happened at the end.

ugh i haven’t read a book i actually enjoyed in over ten years at this point uhhhhhh

Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut. I think potentially the only classic I had to read in school that I genuinely liked and actually finished in one sitting on my own time. And I think the first time any themes a book had for me actually clicked and I was able to do any kind of meta analysis of it completely unprompted. Baby’s first literary comprehension. Slaughterhouse-Five is a semi-autobiographical piece set during the bombing of Dresden in WWII, and also some period in the “future” (the 80s lol), and ALSO on an alien planet as the protagonist is abducted and taken to a human zoo. The story is told achronologically, and I feel is hugely influential to my own shit where it skips around, building a narrative almost entirely by juxtaposing specific moments in time against one another. It's surreal and thought-provoking, and if you only ever make yourself read one classic, it should be this one. *

Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert C. O'Brien. Bear in mind this thing has fuck-all to do with the movie, and while in retrospect I now am able to enjoy the Don Bluth movie as its own thing, I remember being fucking furious when they busted out a goddamn magical amulet. It’s a different kind of story, but is more magic realism than outright fantasy, and the titular rats get a lot more backstory, as does the late Mr. Frisby iirc.

The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Kate DiCamillo. God that book fucked me up. It is about a snotty porcelain toy rabbit that gets dropped overboard a ship into the ocean one day, and the various owners he has over the years as he changes hands, and the impacts they have on him, and it makes me fucking cry every time and is to date the only book to ever do so so fairly warned be ye. Fucking shit I wish I could dish out gut-punches half as good as that book could.

The His Dark Materials trilogy by Phillip Pullman, which in and of itself is an angry rebuttal against everything the Chronicles of Narnia has to say, as well as Christianity in general. You’ve probably seen shit floating around about the HBO series, which I have not watched. Lyra is a horrible gremlin child running wild around a parallel universe Oxford until she accidentally stumbles onto a conspiracy that goes all the way to the Church which unofficially runs the government and eventually starts an interdimensional war against God. The first two books I think are better than the last one, which really drags in spots (and in a twist of irony had Lyra’s sexual awakening censored from the North American release which like... come on man). Absolutely worth checking out though, especially if you’re an angry pedant like I am.

Tales from the House of Bunnicula, by James Howe. Honestly the entire "Bunnicula Expanded Universe"(???) is great, but in particular I'm mentioning this sub-series because I think it actually kind of taught me to write. The framing device used is that they're being written by Howe's pet dog and sent in to him to publish by proxy. On top of having just a lot of good storytelling tips for beginners (how to create a plot! how to create character motivations! how to write female characters like actual people!), they're also fun little satire pieces of various kinds of genre fiction. Like, the third book is a riff on Harry Potter and making fun of all of JKR's worst writing tendencies, like her compulsion to phonetically write out everyone's fucking accent.

these days i'm just too picky to enjoy books anymore idfk. you have no idea how fucking disheartening it was growing up with actual taste (snooty snooty snoot) and watching everyone go nuts over stuff like divergent and eragon and maximum ride and fuckmothering twilight and shit. like, yeah misogyny absolutely played into why people shat on it because teenage girls aren't allowed to like anything, but lest we forget they were still shitty books guys. that never stopped being true or anything. and you were a social pariah if you didn't like them and that sucked. and then a couple ostensibly good series, like harry potter and artemis fowl and hunger games just dropped the fucking ball for one reason or another as they went on and never picked it back up. i think the mid 2000s almost singlehandedly just killed any real enthusiasm i had for reading altogether (this is not even getting into the fact a lot of really fucking bad "grown-up" novels came out around that period too. whole era was a baaaad time for books). so here i am writing, i guess, because i've decided you fuckers can't be trusted to make anything good yourselves. if you want something done right...

(*I like to think if Cloud wrote a book he’d write something like Slaughterhouse-Five. I think at one point I was even working on a fic along those lines -- a fictional story vaguely based off the burning of Nibelheim and the fall of Shinra that was written, in-universe, by Cloud several years later. Abandoned it just because of how fucking complicated it would be to do. Might come back to it one day.)

[magiefish]

hhhhhhhhhh guess who drew all the batim characters in prep for the comic they’re making!

yeah so it took like 4 days to draw all these guys, and it was actually pretty fun figuring out colours and designs and stuff!

(also, update on the Reveries Twisted comic, I have a plan for the first chapter but i have like, 7 tests next week and I haven’t started drawing it yet so it’s definitely not going to be coming out anytime soon sdfgsdfsj but i am still working on it!)

anyway, i felt like writing little descriptions for every character, so feel free to read these below the ‘keep reading’ line if you feel like it! My ask box is also always open, so if u have any questions feel free to ask

Bertrum Piedmont-he/him, gay/ace

-Started working as a mechanic at about 15 and worked his way up from there -Everyone in the studio @ him: why are u british -His big ego often gets in the way of things, but at his core he's a good person (doing bad shit but ultimately having good intentions is common among these guys shdgfs) -Wlw & mlm solidarity w/ Lacie, who is his most trusted confidant and friend -Actually treats his employees well, even when they do basically nothing all day, so he does a lot of work himself most of the time Linda Stein-she/her, straight as a ruler -Parents immigrated from Spain -She's very catholic and very into 'traditional family values' and that sort of stuff -She is sweet, but her strict morals and black and white ethics often make her do unintentional harm -She is also pretty oblivious to most things Jack Fain-he/him & they/them, pan/ace, OCD -Mother immigrated from China to France, and then he moved to America, it's confusing -Can play the violin really well, but is terrible at composing his own pieces -Peak friend material -Short and round and soft with a love of a good espresso -Kind and quiet but ultimately ineffective and happy to watch from the sidelines Daniel 'Buddy' Lewek-he/him, aro/ace, autistic, jewish -He is curious and observant, but very very naive -He finds it hard to pick up on social cues, and tends to daydream a lot -Never really had a father figure, and unfortunately kind of half sees Joey as one (baaaad choice), but his mother is great -Loves drawing and tends to chew on pens (and most objects really) -Too young Susie Campbell-she/her, demi -Her parents were Russian and she picked up their accent, but taught herself how to cover it up. She is now excellent at voice acting. -Has a birthmark most theatres turned her away for. But luckily voice acting gave her another chance at performance, and the music department really does not care about it. -Her dad was a butcher, so she now knows a concerning amount about how to cut up and dissect meat. -She gets easily attached to things emotionally, and has a whole pile of random bits and bops she keeps on her person because she can't throw them away. -Naive, but smart enough to know how to read and deceive people if needed. Ms Abigail Lambert-she/her, lesbian -A very gifted artist, who is quite frustrated with the business aspect of animation. -Picked up quite a few things about engineering from Lacie. -Stern, but kind. Motherly, if she likes you and you squint hard enough. -Used to fighting for things. -Giving her food is a pretty good way to get her to like you. Being an artist, she forgets to eat at the correct times a lot, so a meals always appreciated. Norman Polk-he/him, gay, albino -Knows how to fix things, knows how to fight, knows how to hide -General cool uncle vibes -He watches people a lot, and gives off some creepy vibes, but he does genuinely care about people -Knows something is up and is determined to find out what (even if he dies trying) -Fought in WW1, then worked at a cinema for a bit. Emma Lamont-she/her, heteroflexible -Keep dancing even when everything goes wrong -Bit of a 'i'm better than these fools' mentality going on -But she's pretty chill, and willing to act when needed -Basically every woman in the studio knows her on the basis that she chills in the girls bathroom. -Hates Joey, but knows those who stir up a bit too much trouble usually 'resign' Sammy Lawrence-he/him, (vocal-romantic) bi/ace, ADD -His dad sucked, so he ran away. He's also the reason he's largely abandoned his faith, but he still holds hope that there is some kind of god out there. -He and Jack are basically brothers, they've known each other for a long time. -He can compose music in his head, but can play basically every instrument. -Tall and thin and sharp with a love of black coffee. -He's actually pretty chill and nice, but the conditions of the studio (workload, noises, dreams) have left him quick to snap and a stressed out mess. -He's pretty oblivious to his own feelings and spends basically all his time thinking about music, so he usually only realises that he has a crush on someone if he hears them singing (hence the vocal-romantic joke) Johnny Hart-he/him (she/her), gay (trans), heart condition -A nervous wreck who avoids everything and everyone -Trans but doesn't realise it, he thinks this level of discomfort has something to do with his heart condition or something like that. -Speaking of which, if he gets genuinely terrified or panicked he could have a heart attack. -Hence why he's a recluse who remains in the organ room and interacts w/ literally no one. -Except Dot and Buddy (who forgets he exists and who he also has a crush on). Wally Franks-he/him, pan -Friends with literally everyone who isn't one of the older folks (and thomas) -Honorary member of the music department because he can play a harmonica and vibes with everyone there. -Tries to put a positive spin on everything, often beyond the point of reason -A mischevous, mildly selfish prankster with a heart of gold -Gossip pals with Susie and Norman The Violinist-she/her, nobody knows -Has literally never expressed an emotion ever -Seems to know things are going to happen before they happen -Just generally pretty weird -She isn't friends with Dot, they're both just vaguely interested in what the others doing -She looks a lot like Allison, but the two have never spoken and nobody knows if they're sisters Thomas Connor-they/them, gynephilia -He is just. So tired. -An actual mechanical genius who gets his work used for the wrong purposes. -Is very of the 'when you're on a path stick to it' mentality -Cold and hard exterior that vertually no one except Allison has ever managed to get through. -He can and will beat you up. Henry Stein-he/him, gay, vitiligo -Nice and hardworking. -Doesn't have many emotions other than to draw. -He's in fucking narnia he's so deep in the closest. -Feels emotions, but buries them deep down and doesn't express them too clearly. -Has difficulty setting healthy boundaries with people and represses himself far too much. Joey Drew-he/him, homoromantic/pansexual, bipolar disorder, alcohol and cigarette addictions -Chaotic, feral, short little man who lies to everyone -Charismatic as hell, but also a terrible friend and person in general -He doesn't blink enough, does not know the meaning of personal space, and hasn't aged for about 4 years, which are all very bad signs. -Doesn't understand how to run a business but does so anyway. Doesn't understand how to interact with people but does so anyway. Doesn't understand how to create life but does so anyway- -He isn't pure evil, he just gets into very bad mindsets and makes poor decisions that lead him down the wrongest way to go. -Does some self evaluation and goes 'maybe this wasn't the right way chief :/' just a bit too late Audrey Dempsey-she/her, lesbian, Borderline Personality Disorder -Feral conspiracy theorist -May or may not be related to multiple studio members -Everyone's called her crazy for years and made her feel like a burden, and she is hellbent on proving everyone wrong -Quite socially awkward, and rather sarcastic with a dark sense of humour -Works for Archgate Allison Pendle-she/her & they/them, androphilic/ace -Is forever lost in a vintage clothing store -Most people say she seems nice, but everyone just kind of subconciously registers that there is something up with her -Knows a lot about the supernatural -The person closest to Joey, which doesn't necessarily mean they're friends -Nobody has ever seen the right side of her face Dot Acciaci-she/her, pan -Her parents are Italian, and she speaks a little herself, usually using it to encrypt her private notes -Mischevious & curious, but ultimately kind -She will find out your secrets, and is very good at reading people -Great storyteller -Struggles with loneliness a lot Dr Eleanor Hackenbush-she/her, aro/ace -Science knows no bounds -Doesn't care what your motivation is, as long as you give her some cash and some experiments -Filled with nothing but utter spite Ms Reina Rodriguez-they/them, demi -Tired of everything -Although she puts up a calm exterior, Rodriguez is very attached to the studio and views it as her 'new family', having a terrible relationship with her old one -Her family drama connects to the fact they're very catholic, but she nobody knows what this drama is other than Joey Tessa Arch-she/her, straight -An absolute bitch -Trusts her husband far too much -Not very smart, but compensates for this for being good looking and rich Shawn Flynn-he/him (intersex), pan -Jovial, but gets angry quickly -Willing to do 'wrong' things if it helps someone else out, kind of like Robin Hood or something -His mother taught him how to sew and he helped her make clothes when he was younger -Found it hard to get a job because he's Irish, so despite being tired of all the bullshit of JDS, he is reluctant to look elsewhere -Friends with Lacie and Grant because they appreciate his humour Lacie Benton-She/her, lesbian, trans -Tougher than the toughies -wlw & mlm solidarity w/ Bertrum, who she views as one of the only genuinely smart people in JDS and who she has worked for for basically all of her life -Feels like something is up, but doesn't notice much if it doesn't connect to her work -Has automatophobia -Friend with Shawn and Grant because she respects their dedication to their work Grant Cohen-He/him, bi, depression, jewish -Absolute madlad at maths -Acts like he doesn't care what you think, cares far too much about what you think -Everyone wants him to just get therapy already -Doesn't have many friends, but has a weird 'we're both horribly overworked' kinship with Sammy, so they usually just chill and smoke together -Friends with Shawn and Lacie because they're actually mentally stable and he needs some rocks Nathan Arch-He/him, straight -You should hate him -You should hate him a lot -Super rich and doesn't pay his workers enough -Silver tongued -Basically a spider. Creates webs of manipulation and lies, sees a lot, and knows plenty about waiting for his prey to come to him.

[variantia]

@lovedefiant​ said : //Another funny note: in a few futureverse, Lo has twins named Iuka "Kira" Snow and Kanoa "Hakai" Snow, and they also both go by they/them. So like... imagine trying to corral all four at parties.

BELLUM.   rip in fuckin pieces Lo

Asriel running up to her like “THEY DID SOMETHING BAAAAD!!!!”

“OH MY GOD WHO DID WHAT USE NAMES NOT PRONOUNS CHILD!!!!!”

[rosabell14]

Okay okay I think this post is too mean to my man Percy and I need to say my piece.

I've said it before and I'll say it again a big problem in the fandom is that they are always looking at Watsonian explanations instead of looking at the Doylist factors in the narrative.

What people need to remember is that Percy and Nico's relationship doesn't exist in a vacuum but is rather part of a bigger problem that haunts Percy and Nico.

I don't think we can deny that Percy just feels different in HoO than his PJO counterpart. Things like his sense of humor, maturity and intelligence just don't track. Now the thing with Percy here is that Rick needs to justify his existence in the narrative. Percy needs an arc. So what's the arc that Rick decides on For Percy?

Percy needs to be a better friend.

Now this alone irks me because one of Percy's main attributes in the original series was that he WAS a good friend. Especially to outcasts. Percy always noticed outcasts and defended them even if it affected him negatively and caused him to get bullied.

Nico is one of those outcasts. From the moment Nico runs from camp, Percy tries to protect him out of his guilt for Bianca and his need to protect this kid even though Percy is in no way actually responsible for Bianca's death. I cannot overstate this. Percy takes on the great prophecy to protect Nico. Even though he absolutely didn't want it. He took it so Nico wouldn't have to carry that weight. He looked for Nico for months before botl. He was so affected but what he saw about Nico in botl that he shattered his own fountain and stared at it the whole night. When he thought that Nico was close he RAN back to the labyrinth to find him he does it again at the end of the battle when Nico passes out in exhaustion. In the last Olympian, he carries Nico throughout the underworld because he doesn't want to leave him to die even though he's mad at him for what happened with Hade.

For god's sake, defending Nico was what made Hera so pissed at Annabeth and Percy to begin with!

At the end of the book he asks for Hades to have a throne and cabin at camp half-blood he uses Nico as a specific example to why Hades and his children deserve recognition.

So what the hell happened in HoO?

As I've said Percy needs an arc and in this scenario I think it's best if we go backwards from the culmination of Percy's arc which is in Tartarus where he realizes what a baaaad friend he has been and he uses three examples: Nico, Calypso and Bob.

The problem here is that for this narrative to work we need to do mental backflips. Oh yes the gods have broken Their oath in regards to Calypso without getting any consequences for it and somehow we're blaming Percy for it. Bob? Why should Percy have visited Bob? Last time they've met, Iapetus tried to kill him and his friends and only stopped because his memories were erased. Are we forgetting that Percy can't just waltz into the underworld whenever he likes?

And Nico? Well yes for this narrative of "Percy is a bad friend to Nico to work" we need to go out of our way to twist Nico and Percy's relationship into something that it isn't. We need to forget how much worrying about Nico practically defined Percy's life path so much so it literally led to him becoming the hero of Olympus. Percy's entire character needs to be warped from someone who always stood up for outcasts into "popular hero dude who can't see how the outcasts around him are suffering"

But it's not just about Percy's arc. Nico's arc is also important. Because what Riordan does to Nico is basically repeat his arc in HoO. At the end of pjo it's highly implied that Nico has finally found acceptance. It's his and his father's entire arc. But in HoO? Oh actually Nico being accepted only lasted two weeks also his cabin is shit and was designed by other people who apparently think Hades is a vampire (even though pjo specified that Nico was designing his own cabin). Nico needs to be completely isolated for his New(old) arc to work. He needs to be friendless so that we can feel the effects of Jason and Reyna all the more. Which results in his and Percy's relationship to be inconsistent. Even in HoO, Percy and Nico's relationship just keeps swinging. Sometimes Percy is silent about Nico's safety when he absolutely should not have been, and sometimes he's so worried about Nico that his heart is jumping out of his chest. Riordan can't stay consistent to save his own life.

In fact even Nico's narrative is inconsistent. We go from people constantly thinking Nico is creepy(what the fuck happened to frank and Nico? They were fine with each other in SoM). But then we also need to create a narrative where Nico is the one who's wrong and an unreliable narrator who thinks he's isolated when it fact he's been creating his own isolation. We need this so Nico's love interest can come in and knock sense into Nico's silly little head.

Actually the really sad thing about the Seven seriously considering leaving Nico to die is that if Nico found out he probably wouldn't even get mad at them, he'd just be like "Yeah that makes sense" because he's so used to people not trusting him that even though it would hurt he'd just accept it as normal.

On the bright side I think Jason especially (Hazel too but she was against leaving him so she's not actually part of this) would be very upset about Nico not being furious at him for suggesting they leave him to die and I feel like that could be a really fun fic. Give me Jason going "Nico please you are my best friend, you should be screaming at me right now, please love yourself just a little bit."

[wetalkinboutbooks]

Reaper of Souls by Rena Barron

Summary: After so many years yearning for the gift of magic, Arrah has the one thing she’s always wanted—at a terrible price. Now the last surviving witchdoctor, she’s been left to pick up the shattered pieces of a family that betrayed her, a kingdom in shambles, and long-buried secrets about who she is. 

Desperate not to repeat her mother’s mistakes, Arrah must return to the tribal lands to search for help from the remnants of her parents’ people. But the Demon King’s shadow looms closer than she thinks. And as Arrah struggles to unravel her connection to him, defeating him begins to seem more and more impossible—if it’s something she can bring herself to do at all.

Set in a richly imagined world inspired by spine-tingling tales of voodoo and folk magic, Kingdom of Souls was lauded as “masterful” by the School Library Journal in a starred review. This explosively epic sequel will have readers racing to the can’t-miss conclusion. (Taken from Goodreads)

Our Ratings:  

 → Geena:  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌗

 → Kae: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Overall: A messy sequel to an amazing series, we get to see the after effects of the fall out of Arrah vs. Efiya from KOS… and when we tell you it is MESS!!!

~Spoiler-Full Review Below~

The Good: 

→ Arrah and Dimma

Geena: One of my favourite things about Reaper was the sprinkle of Dimma’s POVs throughout the story. We got an insight into Dimma’s life before she was Arrah, and how her relationship with the other Orisha and Daho developed. It also really helped build up the suspense near the end and set up plot twists that clocked us near the end. Dimma aside, let’s talk about Arrah. Rena Barron said brooding boys are out, brooding girls are IN! And you know what, we love to read it. The story starts off with Arrah trying to save Sukkar after she snapped all his bones while trying to save him, and she does save him :) Or so she thinks but that’s besides the point. Over the length of the book we follow Arrah’s inner turmoil of suddenly having the power of 10 tribal chieftains and being insecure about whether or not she even deserves it.

I loved Arrah, even when she was holding herself up to a terribly high bar and beating herself up about everything she did. Arrah helped bring her Auntie back from the dead and was like “Damn I suck :/” and thought shattering a girl’s glass (who was flirting with Rudjek) put her on the same level as her mom and Efiya. I was sitting there like NO GIRL YOU’RE PERFECT, YOU, YOUR MISSING TOOTH AND YOUR PETTY NATURE!! 

Kae: YAAAAAAAAAS! Geena summed Arrah and Dimma up perfectly. 

But I would like to add how much I love Arrah and how selfless she is. She’s always thinking about her friends and their safety, the safety of the tribal people, and of course the kingdom. She’s a worry woman, but for all the right reasons. And she also cares about herself; so much even that like Geena said, she beats herself up for the smallest of things. She’s so worried about being evil like her mother and her sister, that she calculates every single move that she makes, debating if it’s really worth it to use strong magic or not. 

As for Dimma, I loved her POV’S. She is a complex character who has been demonized since book 1. We were taught to believe, through the POV of some of the Gods, that Dimma was a horrible Goddess who wrought nothing but chaos. They erased her name from history, LITERALLY. And Dimma became known as the Unnamed Orisha. While reading her POV, we learn that Dimma was quite selfless, much like Arrah (since they are technically the same person). Dimma was full of love and loved even harder. She went out of her way to give Daho immortality as well as his people, because she loved them so much. She defied the rules of the universe for her love, and it only came to bite her in the ass in the end. Like her siblings told her, “A God’s love is a dangerous thing.” And it was, but not exactly for the reasons one might think.

Geena:  Kae’s summary of Dimma and Arrah is AMAZING, you know my ability to connect dots when reading is kinda shit so reading Kae’s summary gave me realization…  Arrah tries so hard to separate herself from Dimma, because she refuses to believe that a part of her is in love with Daho because she herself is in love with Rudjek… but it’s like girl… you have travelled to the ends of the earth to fight and bring back the people you love (the tribespeople) just like Dimma searched the ends of the universe for immortality to give to Daho. It’d be much easier to reconcile your feelings if you just accepted that ��Okay, I may have been Dimma but now I am Arrah”

Also another thing I love about Arrah is how she had…. For a time… three dudes in love with her… or at least what she thought was three dudes. Real hot girl shit. 

→ Rudjek and Daho

Geena: You know the character archetype that’s like a snarky boy who knows he’s hot shit and acts accordingly, but when it comes to the person he’s in love with he’s just a bowl of mush. That’s Rudjek, and only Rudjek can pull it off. In KOS, he was slated to be the next vizier because of his father, in Reaper he’s known as a prince because his dad snaked his way into becoming the monarch. So, now he’s the snarky prince…. And the only snarky prince with rights! His POVs were actually so fun to read, like following the politics of the Kingdom and him dealing with his new craven powers…. Which also had him being able to smell pheromones when people were doing the dirty around him 😭

I really liked that Rena gave him a POV, because now we get to see how he develops given the fact that him and Arrah are dangerous to one another, because he saps her magic with a single touch and could kill her. The whole time Arrah is stressing like “Damn, what if he doesn’t like me anymore because we can’t touch” meanwhile Rudjek is like “I’ll fight the Gods if I have to, to keep her by my side” and it’s like 🥺Also, who let a teenager be in control of a whole army… I thought the vizier was a sly and smart man but I digress… Another thing I liked about Rudjek in this book was that he didn’t shy away from uncomfortable conversations with Arrah, regarding the fact that he confused Efiya for Arrah when they did the unspeakable in the clearing in KOS. Like, that was very mature of them and I’m glad they could deal with that misunderstanding… But… hands down… my favourite scene… During the climax of the book Rudjek gets a demon soul shoved down his body, and immediately assumes it’s the demon king…. And his only command to his friends is to not let him near Arrah😭😭😭 I was like PEAK ROMANCE, SOFTEST SHIT, SACRIFICIAL LOVER!!!!! 

Kae: SO GEENA SUMMED UP RUDJEK SO DAMN WELL. LIKE DUDE OMG? Correct. He is perfect. I really don’t have much to add but I just genuinely loved him as a character. He is caring for both Arrah and his friends. He is also one of the few male characters I’ve read that actively tries to go against their father. Most dudes in books are like “Fine puhpa, I shall do your evil bidding.” But Rudjek is like “Sike bitch, I’ll let you think that but I’m doing what I WAAAANT!” 

But okay, let’s talk about Daho. So first off, I love him??? Am I a villain sympathizer now? Tbh, I don’t really see him as a villain. Man’s didn’t commit a genocide or try to scheme Arrah out of her pants. AND HE VERY MUCH HAD THE CHANCE TO and he was like “nah.” And I appreciate that. Because there are a few certain villainous men who I shan’t name, that be on that scant shit. And Daho is just like… genuinely trying to avenge his wife’s death (Dimma) and try to get Arrah to remember that she is Dimma. 

YES, I know he got Arti to bring him back. BUUUUUT, he didn’t tell her to kill a bunch of kids and shit to do it. Arti did all that evil shit on her own and Daho was like “look, i don’t condone that shit. But it’s over and I’m sorry it happened but I can’t change it.” And I’m like… okay, mood. I get it. Daho is sweet and caring. He looked out for Arrah in *redacted’s* body because we didn’t know *redacted* was dead the whole time. And even then, Daho was still like “My bad… But he wasn’t using his body??? So I took it???” Why let it go to waste, amiright? 

Geena: STOOOOP FOR REAL HE WAS LIKE “It was empty, I didn’t think you’d mind” 

Kae: LMAOOO OKAY BUT DEADASS. And like, idk man. He just seriously isn’t a bad person. He was trapped because after the God’s killed Dimma, he was like “BET IMMA JUST KILL THEM” and they lowkey were shook so they trapped his ass in a box for a millenia or whatever. He wasn’t even out to kill all humanity or anything. The God’s were just being some haters and now he’s suddenly the bad guy. Anyway, we stan Daho in this house. 

Geena: Daho is how you write a sympathetic villain. He owns up to his own mistakes even while his demons run free terrorizing people. Kae said it best that he just wants justice for his wife and unfortunately history is written by the victors so the Orisha painted him out to be a bad guy… My dude was just chugging that respecting my wife juice and they killed her… and he also thinks they killed his son… Guess me and Kae are just villain sympathizers now 

The Bad:   

→ The Ending 

Kae: Okay, let’s get it. And I also just want to clarify that when we say “the bad”, we don’t mean we hate it. This is just something that was like “oh fuck, this is BAAAAD! THINGS ARE ABOUT TO GO DOOOWN.” 

But like, good Lord. The ending? That shit was crazy. First of all, we find out that *redacted* aka, SUKKAR. OUR SWEET, PLAYFUL, SARCASTIC SUKKAR. IS DEAD. HE HAS BEEN DEAD THIS WHOLE TIME!? Excuse me while I *SCREEEEEEEEEEEAM*. Like, what an unforeseen twist. This mf kicked the bucket back in KOS when Arrah tried to save him. Turns out… She maybe… Totally… possibly… Absolutely killed my guy on accident. He dead-dead. And this is how we find out that Daho took over his body, once Sukkar’s spirit ascended. It was a really sad reveal and my heart kind of hurt reading it. I straight up wasn’t expecting that to happen. THEEEEEN. GOTDAMN EFIYA. IS BROUGHT BACK. 

Geena: No joke, the ending of Reaper was just one sucker punch followed by another… At first you think Tyrek (the prince from KOS who joins Arrah and her crew on a journey to save the tribespeople) is the demon king, then you think it’s Rudjek because he’s getting possessed, and then you learn it’s Sukkar… The final punch to the gut was Daho bringing back Efiya because his close general asked for her… because she’s his daughter. We were like, DAHO ARE YOU SERIOUS YOU SAW THE DAMAGE SHE DID TO THE HUMANS!!! Like Efiya may have grown quickly in a few months but her brain isn’t fully developed, like that girl is UNHINGED!!! I thought we were done with the Efiya chapter but here we are, and I’m scared to see what role she’ll play in the final instalment of the series. I guess this is the case of bringing back an old villain that can work out really well…  I trusted Rena with the messy Arrah/Daho/Rudjek love triangle, so I trust her with this too 

The Ugly:  

→ Tyrek 

Geena: Remember how I said Rudjek is the only valid snarky prince… Yea, Tyrek can CHOKE!! In KOS he sides with Efiya and she wreaks havoc in the Kingdom, and in Reaper he’s brought to his knees. Rudjek’s dad wants to execute him for his crimes, but Arrah sympathizes with him because she knows how Efiya’s mind control worked. As you read, you get a sense of “Okay, maybe he isn’t bad, he’s helping Arrah and them” but then you get to the climax and you’re like okay nvm this boy was insane… Imagine travelling to a whole other dimension and making deals with demons, because you’re in a fucked up sort of romance with a half-demon girl. He managed to lie to Arrah that he was being controlled by Efiyah, when he was really with Efiya the whole way…. Even when she told him to murder his whole family… this man was vile!! He’s also one of our first fake outs, when he pretends to be the demon king I was kinda disappointed… I was like no this ruins the messy love triangle I’ve been waiting for! But it was just a fake out, Tyrek was just trying to scare Arrah into freeing Efiya, whose soul was in the demon dagger that Arrah used to kill her in KOS. Overall, 1/10 for this man… the 1 point is for when he figured out “Sukkar” had a crush on Arrah before Arrah even knew.  

Conclusion 

Kae: So, I don't have much to add to Tyrek’s snake ass. He really was ugly in the end. I’m glad he’s dead. 

But to conclude, this was such an amazing, refreshing read. Reaper of Souls was a wonderful sequel to Kingdom of Souls. Rena writes so beautifully and she didn’t hesitate to have us readers shaking in our boots. Getting more background information on Dimma, the Gods, and their old ass war, was really fun and insightful! IT added to the story in a way I hadn’t even thought about until I was consuming it all! 

Arrah and Rudjek are perfect angels and I can’t wait to see where book three leads them. I also want to give a shout out to Essnai and Majka for being such good friends to Arrah and Rudjek. Same to Kira and the Cravens. This is a really close knit group of friends who will go to the ends of the Earth (and literally new dimensions) for each other. THAT’S LOVE, BITCH. And we LOVE to see it. 

Geena: For real! Rena Barron set up such an amazing cast of characters, and she really emphasizes the power of friendship in her series and it’s one of my favourite things to read. With Reaper, from the very start, she sets up the story in such a way you’re literally screaming by the end… I think it requires a special kind of skill to be able to set up a story so well that while you do make predictions about what’s going to happen, it still shocks you when you realize you’re right. Cannot wait to see the absolute mess that will be the final book, with Rudjek/Arrah vs. Daho… and the drama it will bring now that the Orishas realize that Arrah is Dimma’s reincarnation.