#I have yet to embrace this level of feral

[fawninthesnow]

Hey! I understand if not cuz you originally wrote the fic as a one-shot but I honestly think attention has the potential to have a part 2 or be a mini-series. Like i’d love to see reader x geta sneaking off or something despite caracalla. I also hope you’re having a wonderful new years and I love your writing 💗

Hiii! You are so sweet! Thank you! So, It was originally supposed to be a mini series but I forgot to finish my planning. I think I'll do 3 parts in total!

𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Part 2

𐙚 Emperor Geta x Fem! Emperor Caracalla x Fem! 𐙚 18+

Summary: As one of Caracalla's concubines, you find yourself in a bind when you grab his brother's attention.

Warnings/contains: fem dom (kinda), sub male, concubines, smoking, alcohol consumption, obsession, idealization, not proof read-- english is not my first language!

Word Count: 1.2k

PART 1

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That night, Caracalla nestled into your warm embrace, his arms wrapped tight around your waist.  Droplets of saliva traced paths down your chest.  His breath, soft as his hair, lulled you into a peaceful exhaustion.  As usual, the emperor's door remained open—a fear of enclosed spaces a constant, and the bedroom air, consequently, cool.  Your nakedness contributed to the chill.

Geta stood in the hallway, just outside the door.  A servant held a torch, casting light on his perplexed face, his arms crossed in a posture of confusion. “Let us go.” He said to the servant, continuing down the hall.

You looked at the boy on your chest and rubbed his hair. Something in you wanted to stay, you knew on a personal level how it hurt him when, yet another person would leave. But simply the idea of Geta was enough to make you feral for sex.

You brushed a kiss against Caracalla's hair, then stepped off the bed.  Wrapping yourself in a robe, you slipped down the hall, a single candle your only light.  Reaching Geta's chambers, you requested passage, and the guards promptly opened the doors.

The emperor smirked, pushing the two women from his bed. “Leave please.” He said rather condescendingly to the women before turning his attention back to you. “Come, come.” He waved you over to him, inviting you into bed. Geta calmed his breathing, attempting to stay composed although a goddess of a woman just entered his bed. “I- I always thought it to be unfair that the most beautiful women go to *him* first.” He said, his hands glued to your flesh. He pulled you onto his hips, resting his back against the bedframe.

“Wait. I need to say…Caracalla may not know about this. I will leave before he wakes.”

“That is fine.” He looked up at you, enjoying the weight of your body on his. “You smell heavenly. Your beauty…I cannot begin to describe. Where are you from?”

“Mauretania.”

“Ahh, I see. I will call you...Lotus.” You blushed as he moved the curls of your hair from your eyes, “Where did he find you?”

“I was shopping for fruits at the bazaar when he came into the city.”

He chuckled, “I…believe you.” He did not. However, he did not want to waste time with you.

Your hands hold onto the sides of his neck, “He is asleep, but he will notice in time that I am gone.” Geta’s eyebrows furrowed as you pulled away from him. “I did not come here tonight to have sex with you.” The man’s nostrils flared in frustration, his arousal only teered off as a result. “I told you I planned to leave before he woke. Now, tomorrow, he plays with his friends in the courtyard, lounging festivities. I will meet you here then.”

“N- no! I want you now. Please? I promise to satisfy you; such a beautiful woman…” He murmured; his mind rather scattered with the thoughts of losing you. You watched as he frantically placed kisses along your breasts and neck. He kissed hard against your skin—

“You are going to leave marks, your highness.”

“That is my point.”

“Think of Caracalla.” You groan and push yourself from him. The man reached for your arm, placing kisses along your smooth skin. “Geta.” He held onto you as you walked towards the door. You sigh, brushing his hair with your fingertips.

“Please, do not leave.”

“I will see you again soon.”

////

The following morning, Geta watched the courtyard, where his brother and friends engaged in a game of golf, their balls soaring across the garden and towards the city.  He noticed you lounging on a sun bed, apart from the other courtesans. You sat propped on one elbow, your toga tightly wrapped around your hips and chest.  The sun kissed your honey-toned skin, highlighting its smooth, supple texture as you relaxed.  You were breathtakingly beautiful, a simple radiance.  Geta wondered if you'd dipped in the lap pool; a subtle sheen suggested that you might have. Your skin looked both wet and luxuriously soft.

However, this wasn’t the plan! To just watch you from afar! No! You were supposed to sneak away by now. Sneak away and come to him! Why were you making him wait?! “Oh, my lotus…” Please do not do this, not in a time of such need!

You knew he was over behind a pillar, his eyes glaring from the copper-colored curtain. The man continued to fume with disgust as his brother made his way to you and sat beneath you. Your fingers in his hair, your hands ran down his neck and to your shoulder, your lips on his face. Every aspect annoyed Geta to a point of…arousal.

You ignored him, neglected your promise to be with him and it make his cock stiff under his garbs.

Eventually, his brother went back to his friends, but you continued to lay there. Your eyes drifted to geta; you always planned to go with him but now wasn’t the time! He looked unlike a sad dog as he rubbed himself under your gaze. From under his clothes, he held his cock with both of his fists.

You sat up, sipping your wine with a detached curiosity.  His private indulgence was undeniably entertaining, a far more engaging spectacle than the usual drunken antics of Caracalla and his companions, flinging objects – seemingly at random – towards the city.

Geta did not want to break eye contact with you for he might lose your attention. He licked his lips with desire in his low sitting eyes. The two of you traded looks, repeatedly until you each broke a sweat. You leaned forward, trying to relax the heat that rose from your core. Your nipples were pert and sensitive, unable to handle the clothing that held onto and rubbed you so gently.

His noises get slightly louder and faster, as his whole body gets more shaken up. His fists are moving faster and faster, and the amount of precum he’s releasing is not slowing down. There wasn’t any shame on his face either, just a look of pure excitement and extreme desire. His entire mind is fixated on the woman in his sights.

You could not see his manhood, only his moving arms and shoulders. Your mind ran wild with the ideas of how he looked; how well his hips grind against yours in bed, and how his soft pink lips would hold onto your breasts. You shut your eyes for a moment and felt the push of his cock inside of you in your imagination.

He frantically searched your face for your attention once more. He goes silent, and then lets out a soft gasp as he looks at you. He quickly looks back down again, as his entire body is slightly trembling. As he tries to hide his mess of precum from you, he stays silent for now, waiting for you to make a move of some kind.

You glared back at him and rose from your lounging chair. He let out a loud shuddering moan as your hand touched his cheek. His entire body shakes and quivers, and he lets out a loud whimper as his cum sprayed onto her dress right after. His hands are just covering himself, and he is still twitching a bit. Geta lets out another loud whimper, as his body starts to calm down and he finally takes control of himself. You checked for others in the hall. “Come here. I am not done with you.” You whisper and take his hand.

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Out of Europe rn <3

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Wash away the blood on my hands

a/n nothing I can tell you…

summary: honestly just a iv x reader x iii smut. When life throws you to the curb it’s in the embrace of two masked men that you find your salvation.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It still felt almost pathetic to crawl back to them. You liked having power in this. Never being the one to seek them out. Letting them do the groveling. Slither like serpents into your embrace. But tonight, you were too desperate. Too much in need for something to chase the nagging voices away. You had tried it all at this point. Everything that usually worked on setting your mind back on track. But it was pointless tonight.  

So here you were, navigating the dim hotel hallways at almost two a.m. It had started so innocently—the connection between you three. It was almost a given. Whatever happened between Vessel and II while they were writing music was for them and them only. Each of you were more than aware that you would never compare. Would never match that. Never reach the same level of intensity that rushed when they came together. So you never tried. What was the point? That, however, left you there on your own devices when the nights mid-tour got too long and lonely. 

The first time it happened, you three had been lounging in the tour bus. A beer in hand. Laughing about the stupidest shit. In your hazy state, you had let it slip that you hadn’t had an orgasm in months. No matter what you did, nothing could ever tip you over the edge. The look iii and ivy shared had sent a shiver down your back. But it didn’t compare to the feeling of their eyes falling on you. No words were needed. None were shared. And the rest was history. 

Knocking on the door marked with the number given to you, you waited. Hoping that enough heartbeats would pass by for you to change your mind. Turn on your heels and leave. But the door swung open, revealing a shirtless iii with messy hair. Your eyes fell to the peak of the room stretching out behind him. Of iv slowly pulling the white sheets over his naked body. “You’re busy?”, you swallowed thickly. Walk away; you mentally scolded yourself; it’s their time alone; if they wanted you there, they would have said something. Yet a peg of pain still pierced your heart. “Never for you, mouse,"  iii chuckled slightly, hooking a finger beneath your chin. Tilting your face up. The cocky smirk simmered down the moment his eyes landed on your puffy eyes. “What’s wrong?”, and here it was, the class clown turning into a feral guard dong in the blink of an eye. 

You slowly shook your head, “Not tonight."  Reaching out, you squeezed his hand. “Come on,"  he said, pulling at your hand, bringing you into the dim room. “Isn’t it our favorite girl?", iv called from the bed, pulling his boxers back on. “Don’t get dressed on my account," you pointed out. "Unless, of course, you want me to take them off you once again," you mused, shrugging your t-shirt off and tossing it across the room. 

“Nah, we have a rule," iii said, crossing his arms over his chest, “I’m not fucking you when you’re upset about something."  You shot him a warning look, daring him to push your buttons any further. “Have you been crying?”, iv’s fingers trailed up your neck as he stepped closer to you. Those blue eyes crashed into you with so much force that it sent all the air tumbling out of your lungs. “Can we do all this later, after you fuck my brain out?” you pleaded, “I just want to forget for a while." This wasn’t a first. All of you had leaches in your brain. Through the past year, more than a handful of nights were spent plucking each other’s fears and self-doubts with roots deeply embedded in one’s soul. 

“Say less," iv mussed against your ear. He pushed your hair over your shoulder as his lips pressed against your skin. Breathing life back into you. His fingers aimlessly work with the zipper of your skirt, letting it fall to the floor with a thud. You could hear iii whistling from behind you, “No panties, naughty."  His warmth seeped into your back a moment later. “A girl with a mission on her mind. We left you alone for a night, and you already couldn’t take it." His teeth grazed the shell of your ear, causing your eyelids to flutter. 

“I hate you," you muttered, reaching up to pull at the roots of his hair. "Bet,"  he chuckled deeply, his fingers slowly trailing down your lower stomach and between your thighs. Making you let out a sigh of relief. “I can tell from the way you’re dripping onto my fingers, and we haven’t even started," he hummed making iv snort. “What does that say about you, darling, hm?”, iv leaned in, fingers brushing over your breast before he moved to pinch your nipple. 

“I want you,"  you moaned out, grinding back against iii, feeling him slowly getting harder as he bucked his hips against your ass. “It couldn’t be more obvious,"  he grunted against your ear. "Shower,"  you muttered, earning a collective “huh” from both of the boys. “Can we do it in the bathroom?” slowly licking your lips, you watched as both of their pupils dilated. “You little freak," iii huffed, hooking one arm beneath your bum. You only had a chance to let out a shriek as your hands leaned forward to brace against his shoulders. He covered the distance in a total of four steps. 

Your back hit the back wall tiles, and you quickly wrapped your legs around his torso. iii lips crashed into you so fast you didn’t get a chance to take a breath in, and then a stream of water crashed onto the both of you. Drowning out the last echoes in your mind. He was everywhere. Every inch of your body hummed to the feeling of iii squeezing your thighs as he bucked against you. The feeling of his semi-hard dick, still clothed in black boxers, slipping between your folds made you cry into the kiss. 

“Don’t leave me hanging you two," iv chuckled. You pulled back from iii, watching iv slowly pump his hand up and down his cock as he made his way to you. Where you and iii usually collided like two stars, leaving nothing but ruins in your path, iv weathered the storms you both caused. Like a shore, taking the beating of the waves over and over again. 

iii, slowly let your legs hit the floor once again. Your eyes lingered on him before iv pressed against your back, pulling you against his chest. “iii, why don’t you show your little siren just how much we want her in return?", iv mused. iii didn’t have to be told twice as he slowly sank to his knees in front of you, sending your stomach tumbling down at the sight. That alone made you weak in your knees, so the moment he leaned in, nibbling on your thigh, your whole world tilted. His tongue lapped at your heat mercilessly. A cry that slipped past your lips felt inhuman. iii parted your legs ever so slightly, giving himself more room. “Fuuuck," you mulled, bucking your hips against him even more. “Look at him worshipping you," iv muttered, brushing some of the wet strands of hair away from iii face before sliding his hand up your chest. “Only you get treatment like that, love," he said, slowly nibbling at your shoulder, nudging the tip of his cock between your thighs. "Ivy," you grunted, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. “Gonna cum on iii tongue?”, he touted, “I know you want to, baby."  His hand reached out, clasping your hands beneath your back. Pulling you away from touching iii, the lost contact made you grunt before iii reached up, circling your clit with his fingers before dipping them between your folds. “Oh, god...", you whimpered. That familiar feeling of his fingers beckoning at you from within your walls turned your legs into jelly. “Give her one more," iv mused, his free hand roughly palming your breast. “No, no…”, you shook your head, knowing that would be your undoing. But the devil worked harder and faster. iii grazed his teeth over your bundle of nerves, pumping his fingers in and out of you. And you were done for. The heat in your stomach pooled, as a shuttering cry left your lisps, making legs buck. But iv was quick to keep you upright, pressing firmer into you, pushing your throwing heat even more at the mercy of iii. 

“Good girl," he breathed against you, pulling your head to the side as he kisses your lips. Further sending the dizzy spell into motion. “Got to get creative over here," iii mused, licking his lips, “I call dibs on fucking her tonight." You pulled away from iv, gasping for air as he shoved your body beneath the water for a moment. “Guess you’ll have to blow me, baby." You nod at iv words. Ready to do about anything the two would ask of you.

“I guess I’m getting a king treatment tonight," iv snorted, palming himself a couple of times as he sat down on the built-in ledge, parting his legs. “His dick won’t suck itself, mouse," iii pushed at your shoulder, sending you down onto your knees. You licked your lips, wrapping your hands around his cock, pumping him slowly. Keeping your eyes on him as you slide just the tip between your lips, sucking on it ever so slightly before pulling away with a pop. “Don’t fucking tease," iv grunted, fingers threading through your hair. “Not my problem, you’re so hard," you crocked out, making iii chuckle from behind you. “You little, slut," iv grunted, pulling your head back slightly. “Put your mouth to use before I do it for you," at that you leaned in, sliding your tongue over his length, making a grunt slip past his lips. You swirled your tongue over his tip once more, savoring the salty flavor of pre-cum, before bopping your head down. 

“Good fucking girl," iv moaned, fisting your hair as you hollowed out your cheeks for him, taking him deeper. "Pretty," iii mused, “Let’s see if you can keep that up while I’m fucking you from behind."  He sinked into you with such ease that it should be shameful. Your joined moans fill the steamy room as that drug like pleasure filled your bodies. As you all chased that high. You dug your fingers into iv’s thighs at the feeling of iii stretching you out. Welcoming the slight pain it caused you. 

Your moan vibrated around iv shaft, making him press your head down even further, causing your eyes to water as you gagged around him. “Jesus”, iii grunted from the back of you as his hips found a rapid rhythm. You felt them both twitching within you, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

“You feel like a fucking dream," iv whimpered, using your mouth to chase his pleasure, your drool coating his thighs. You could only hum around him as iii slipped his hand to circle your clit. Feeling your body slowly seizing as your second orgasm bloomed. iii let out a low grunt as he pounded into you, making your vision blank with pleasure. 

“Can I... fuck... can I cum in your mouth?", iv grunted through clenched teeth. You only got to hum before warm ropes of cum painted the back of your throat. And then you all crumpled, one after the other. The feeling of iv twitching in your mouth as you choked on him sent you over the edge. Causing you to clench around iii, who within a couple of thrusts griped your hips with such force as he too let his warmth fill the depths of you. Making you sob as the pleasure consumed you. 

Gasping for air, you pull away from iv, only to let your head slump against his thigh. iii’s hand was already grasping iv’s other leg as he too breathed heavily. “I think I just saw what the afterlife looks like," iv mused, making both of you chuckle lightly. “You good?”, his warm fingers traced your cheeks, making you blink up at him slowly. “Yeah," you crocked out, feeling the burn in the back of your throat. “I never came so hard in my life," iii blew out a breath, “took the air right out of my lungs." You wanted to throw a cocky line, but your brain was as blank as paper. The moment iii pulled out and his body no longer supported yours, you slumped completely, making the two males reach out to steady you with unmatched speed. 

“I think we restarted her system a bit too good,"  iv snorted. “We got you, mouse,"  iii looped an arm around your torso, “None of your demons will get to you when we’re around," hoisting you up on your feet as if you weighed nothing, he pulled the shower head to rinse the cum painting your legs and chest. “Bedtime for you," iii hummed, kissing the side of your head. Hoking an arm beneath your knees, lifting you up. You curled against him, savoring the warmth of his body. “I think we need to order room service”," ivy chirped, tossing a towel onto the bed so iii could dry your hair. “Now you’re speaking my language,"  iii nodded, eyes fixed on your dazed face as you blinked up at the ceiling. “I think we’ve been talking in the same language for quite some time now, mate," iv shrugged before dialing the number. 

[melodic-haze]

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Arlecchino x dom!Reader pt. 2

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Petplay, consensual corruption 🥰, dumbification, impact play (whipping), degradation

☆ — NOTES: Omg first ask hiiii I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THE ORIGINAL ASK WHEN I WAS LIKE 25% DONE GOD HELP ME LMAIOIO SORRY but ABSOLUTELY I DO I'm glad you see my vision

☆ — PARTS: Part 1, Part 2 (you are here), Part 3

Arlecchino my loyal little attack dog my baby 🫶🫶🫶🫶 she can So Easily reverse your roles, retaliate, hurt you in ways you possibly couldn't imagine.......and yet she chooses to stay still as you put the gilded collar on her neck, claiming her as yours to toy with for as long as she lives and breathes

You look upon how far you've come—at first she was out of her depth, the mere thought of surrendering power and control was a foreign (dare I even say daunting, TERRIFYING, though she would NEVER admit to it) concept to her, especially when she could overpower you in an instant. Now though? You can see clearly just how much she has embraced her role beneath you

You lean back languidly and lean on your hands placed on the bed behind you, taking your time in moving as your eyes stay locked onto the tall, pale figure kneeling below you as if praising the diety she was clearly devoted to. Her collar's leash was wrapped around your hand, though you make no move to tug on it—it seems that your little pet seems to be anticipating such a move, though she doesn't dare do anything lest she upsets you. And she doesn't want that, not at all! You deserve absolute perfection, and she is willing to give it to you through body, soul and everything she could possibly surrender to you.

You continue to eye her as you spread your legs at a leisurely pace, and your lips curl into a smug grin as you see her straighten up in attention like a dog to an offered treat. She was so adorably pathetic like this, waiting for your command as if she isn't a feared woman who can think for herself.. but that's precisely how you want her, so really you weren't complaining in the least.

You let out a little whistle and she immediately looks at you as you speak, "Are you hungry, puppy?"

There was a time when the Harbinger would've furrowed her eyebrows in a lack of understanding at the intent in your words, but now she was nodding eagerly with that pleading look in her eyes; you find yourself lucky, to be the only person who could ever see her in such a deliciously shameful state.

You need only say the word...

"Then eat."

And Arlecchino obeys without hesitation.

She feasts like a woman STARVED, her levels of desperation only achievable by someone so.. feral underneath the surface, but in no way is she selfish!! She takes care of you first and foremost, making sure to move the way you've trained her to move, because she can't have you unsatisfied with her performance!

Unfortunately she IS left wanting more, her pussy practically aching for YOUR attention.........surely touching herself to your taste would be a way of showing her devotion and adoration to you, right? WRONG❗️❗️ She touched herself without your permission, no matter how she tries to justify herself. She was being such a good girl for you too, a shame she had to ruin it by being impatient and disobedient :(((

You yank her off of you with a disappointed click of your tongue, and you hear her whimper at the loss of contact. You couldn't care less though, and it was evident in the way your tone had lacked its doting warmth from before, "Did I ever say you were allowed to touch yourself?"

Arlecchino shook her head, her breath actually laughably shaky, "No, however--"

"Where did your discipline go? Outside, you paint yourself as this composed, calculating 'Father', and yet all of that apparently flies off the window when a comparably weak human being gets you in such an embarrassing state." You pull her in harshly with a glare, two your fingers hooked onto the collar, "You were doing so well, only for you to ruin it all like an untrained mutt."

Then you push her away and let go of her leash, and looks at you desperately, pleadingly, apologetically, "I'm sorry, I won't do it again, I--"

"You always say this."

"I mean it, please let me prove it to you. I'll do anything for you."

A dangerous offer; one she'll be sure to regret.. or maybe not.

"You want to make it up to me?"

She nods.

"Then you know what you should be doing."

And the both of you look at a specific drawer, one with an item that you use to.. set her straight once she gets all brave like this.

"Fetch," you say, and she practically scurries over to grab it—a whip, its colour matching her usual style to truly show that it's meant for her and only her.

Though before she goes back to you, she makes sure to place the handle in between her teeth, like a stick you had thrown. When you take it from her, you relent just a little bit and give her a little pet with a decievingly kind smile, "At least you remember how to fetch. Now, come here and bend over for me, hm?"

You see her glitch and shiver before doing as you ask, and your smile turns borderline cruel as you hear her yelp out in a mix of pain and pleasure when the impact comes.

This is absolutely relevant wait a second but she is absolutely the type to not let out a lot of noises unless she's so fucked out and dumb that whatever mental barrier she has that makes her stay quiet kinda. Disappears. Fast track to this would be inflicting pain on her because by GOD it hurts so good, especially when it's by someone technically inferior to her

It's been mentioned literally more than once but power play between you is SO VERY PROMINENT and why wouldn't it be when she could kill you rn but she chooses to let you hurt her instead??? She TRUSTS you so deeply she lets you do whatever, and it's a great bonus that she actually LOVES it too

You hit her again and again and again, and she lets out these delightful screams and noises. She's verbally sending mixed signals, with her begging for more AND begging for you to stop but in no way does she want the latter. She wants you to PUNISH her as she deserves, and she will absolutely bend over for you and take it all

By the time you're almost done, you can see her trying to hold it in and be obedient for you but she's so so SO very close to the edge from the impact alone, eyes glazed out and drool on the corner of her lips as her body glitches in and out of existence from the lack of stability within her......so to reward her, you tell her that she can finally cum. And she does so at the same time as you strike once more, her back arching and her legs twitching as she screams out and squirts on the bed. Sheets are wet but you could care less as she convulses with that dumb smile on her face

You're not done yet, though. Far from it, in fact, and the both of you know this VERY well once Arlecchino calms down and looks at you with no thoughts behind her eyes, apart from the need to please you and do whatever it is you want her to

Safe to say you don't stop for a LONGGGG time and that you're absolutely sore the day after 😭

[whateverisbeautiful]

Michonne is such an incredible mix of warrior and loving human. How do you think this beautiful character development was conveyed in the storytelling to highlight the nuances of her humanness, while also spotlighting the absolute goddess she embodies?

Love the way you worded this.🥹 Michonne really is the best and an inspiration, especially for those reasons. To answer this question about her character development and the way her humanness and strong goddess-ness were both on display in the story I went season by season from s3-s6 and wrote it all out below ⬇️💗:

Season 3:

In season 3 we’re quickly introduced to the warrior goddess aspect of her with how sharp and capable she is and also her fearlessness to not back down even when confronted by intimidating people. And then that humanness is shown early in her nurturing side toward Andrea and it gets shown even more once she bonds with Carl in Clear where we see more of her personality and that there’s a really kind and refreshingly lighthearted side to her, after previously seeing her be more serious most of the time. Also, her ability to pick up on Rick’s mental state more than anyone else in the group, shows she has this unique level of empathy and can recognize people’s anguish/pain because she’s experienced it firsthand herself. And even with the pain she carries, she still has this admirable poise and compassion for people.

Season 4:

In season 4, Michonne’s innate warrior is demonstrated through her determination to find and kill the Governor especially. But what I really love is that in season 4 we get some of the most compelling explorations of Michonne’s humanness throughout - from her holding Judith and crying, trying to return to her lone wolf ways after the prison but mustering up the strength to instead find the two who have most become family to her, being haunted by her past while vulnerably talking to Mike about how she misses him, strengthening her bond with Carl and Rick during their travels, and opening up about Andre for the first time with someone. We definitely see Michonne grow and heal a lot this season as a human being, and she even falls in love even if she doesn’t realize that’s what happened yet. 

Season 5:

In season 5, Michonne is pivotal to the group’s survival. It’s her push and insight that lead them both to head to Washington and to arrive at Alexandria. And her willingness to speak up and stand firm in her opinions even with Season 5 Rick who was at his most feral and on edge, was huge as she was able to reach him in a way that only she could. The warrior in her has Deanna instantly recognizing that she too should be put in charge of keeping the community safe alongside Rick. And then her humanness is depicted in both her desire for a home (especially in one of my fav episodes 5.09) and her internal restlessness when she finds one. A lot is weighing on her once they’re behind the walls of ASZ and we get glimpses of that with her being unable to sleep, standing alone at the party, and then when she goes to find Sasha and starts shooting the walkers and having flashbacks. Like many characters that season she’s wrestling with who she used to be and who she’s become. Rick and Michonne also have some of their most vulnerable pre-canon conversations in season 5, where we nicely get to see both of their humanity on display. 

Season 6: In season 6, we get one of the best developments in Michonne’s humanity as she finally embraces the true love she found. And it’s a journey to embrace it, with the universe having to send her several signs that it’s okay to acknowledge she’s fallen in love with Rick - like that dying Alexandrian telling her his love story which mirrored her own and Deanna urgently telling Michonne to figure out what she wants for her own life on her deathbed. She’s been so focused on what she gives and does to others, that this season was encouraging her to know it’s time to also let herself be loved as fully as she loves. Her humanity is also on display in her compassion for those Aleandrians in 6.03. And even once in her outwardly in-love era post-canon, she’s still the warrior goddess she’s always been because she’s still as active as ever in handling business and taking down threats with warning pops and more. 

Her humanity and inner warrior really are harmoniously hand in hand in seasons 7 through 10 as well, and especially in TOWL which includes my favorite depiction of Michonne. I could say so much about Michonne in those seasons and TOWL but I know this post is already long lol. So I'll just conclude saying I really do adore the way Michonne is a character who has such inspiring fight and capabilities in her as well as such endearing humanness and vulnerability. A goddess of a human being through and through. 👑👌🏽 Thank you for asking this, anon, and giving me another reason to rave about one of my absolute favorite characters. 🥰

[morningstargirl666]

I was like realizing, that your power scaling is so much better than the show’s.

Like Klaus feels like as powerful as The Niklaus Mikaelson should be in your fic, especially after curse break. So thank you!

It literally always bothered me that he spent 1000+ years trying to break a curse and then like didn’t do much with his new abilities.

Same!

Initially, there was so much anticipation and mystique around the fact Klaus was a hybrid; both werewolf and vampire. He couldn't be killed, and even Elijah couldn't stop him in a fair fight. He had to use Elena's death and the lifting of the curse, along with Bonnie's magic, to even have a shot at him. And then that curse is broken, and we see those fangs drop, we expect those stakes to be raised even higher---

---but they don't.

They fall instead.

Suddenly, Klaus isn't the only hybrid. He can sire more like him now. And he doesn't embrace his werewolf side at all---compelling Stefan to turn his humanity off; using the sirebond to control his hybrids; never turning into the wolf (we don't even see him turn during the first intial transformation!)... It's like he never broke the curse. Like he never became a hybrid at all---everything he does, every abilty he weaponises, is from his vampire side, not the werewolf one. There's no exploration into what it would be like for him to adapt to becoming something new and unseen by civilisation, no frustrating adjustment period---remember, he's the first of his kind. Everything is a first for him, much like it was for him and his siblings, when they first became vampires. And there's no exploration into how he was different from his siblings even before he broke the curse---he's part werewolf. Esther may have supressed his strength, his fangs and the ability to transform, but I doubt magic could change biology. Blood is everything in the TVDU, and Klaus', especially, is emphasised time and time again to be special.

But power level wise? He's no different than his siblings.

And this, my friends, is where my villain origin story begins, I swear to god these showwriters----

[muffled screeching]

So yeah. I make Klaus completely whipped for one Caroline Forbes, and vulnerable in moments that need that emotional weight, but make no doubt here, I do not make him weak.

I do not de-claw our favourite Original siblings either, and they stay as feral and unhinged as any family that had become toxically co-dependent for the last 1000 years. You'll see this made more apparent in chapters soon coming up, were I remind the Mystic Falls gang (and our dear Caroline), how very small they are in the shadows of their sires. And Klaus' power especially, is hightlighted further when you get to see him in Tyler's body---how very vunerable he becomes in such a weaker meatsuit, not yet aged by the sands of time, nor born of a more powerful werewolf bloodline. Of course, he's also not like Lycaon and Sam---he can't control his werewolf side yet, and that's made apparent too.

But that's the beauty of storytelling. A character can change from point A to point B. And by the end of this fic, I fully intend for Klaus to live up to his name as The Original Hybrid, Niklaus Mikaelson, scourge of the supernatural world.

Why else, do you think this fic is called The Big Bad Wolf?

[anneofthethousandays]

The Horrors of Sacrificial Love: a Reimagining of Shauna Shipman

A disclaimer before I jump into this long-ass essay: I love Shauna Shipman, I love that she’s in her villain era, and I have absolutely no problems with the main story beats of season 3. I do, however, have MANY problems with the how’s and why’s of those story beats, particularly where Shauna’s character arc is concerned.

So this is my re-imagining of how, imo, Shauna *should* have become our final Antler Queen, without compromising any of the depravity we now know she's capable of, and how s3 could have truly capitalized on the idea of these ritualistic murders as a perversion of all-consuming love.

S1 of Yellowjackets introduced a lot of heavy, complex themes: religion, fanaticism, love and loyalty, and how those exact same themes play out in the context of The Wilderness vs. Teen Girlhood. We were set up for an exploration of mob mentality vs. group survivalism by showing us some largely ordinary girls committing grotesque acts of violence because the wilderness demanded it. But because a god is nothing without anyone to worship them, the girls and the wilderness are inextricably intertwined regardless of whether there's an actual supernatural entity or if it's all group psychosis/scientifically explainable. Yet for all of the violence we've seen, most of it was actually rooted in love: Misty cutting off Ben's mangled leg, Lottie allowing Shauna to beat her to a pulp, even the girls watching Javi drown because nobody wanted Natalie to die. I think s1 planted the seeds for this by immediately linking Jackie's heart necklace to both the hunt and to protection in the pilot episode ("Here. Now nothing can hurt you."), and solidified the idea when Shauna tearfully placed it on Nat in s2. What the girls are doing is horrible and indefensible. But it was done for the good of their teammates, friends, romantic partners. On a very surface level, the necklace is shorthand for "We love you, we're sorry, we will never forget that your ‘sacrifice’ kept us alive."

Now, all of that being said, what does this have to do with Shauna's character trajectory in s3, and how do we reconcile the monster she becomes with everything I outlined up above? The answer is that the story should have leaned into Shauna's grief for her son, and the girls' subsequent worship of the baby as part of The Wilderness.

It felt like the story was starting to head in this direction at the top of s3. While planning the solstice ceremony, Lottie instructed the girls to create a special headdress for Shauna “as the child’s mother,” which Shauna aggressively rejected. She’s visibly livid that her baby is being named during the ceremony. She goes as far as to dig up her baby just to give him a secret, dignified burial in private, away from the girls’ prying eyes, and when Melissa follows her, Shauna puts a knife to her throat. No matter what she does, the group clings to her baby in a perverse mourning ritual that Shauna neither consented to or was consulted for. Much like Akilah’s clearly metaphorical vision of Ben as their bridge home, Shauna’s post-birth fever dream of the group cannibalizing her son was a metaphor for their eventual consumption of his very being (as opposed to the Jackie aftermath, in which Shauna managed to keep them from consuming her memory, if not her body, by refusing to let them take Jackie’s clothes). To the team, this is Their Child. Apart from Lottie’s attempt to “crown” Shauna as his mother, Shauna was a complete afterthought in their collective grief.

Suppose, instead, that the writers continued to show us how Lottie lead regular ceremonies deifying their dead and The Wilderness. This is where Shauna’s rage begins to come to a head - but rather than becoming the feral attack dog we see in canon, she instead embraces this ritualistic role of The Mother that the team is insisting she accept - she’s already desperate to be a leader, and this is yet another form of leadership in the eyes of the cult. Shauna would absolutely justify her increasingly unhinged behavior as a last-ditch effort to protect her son: “You all want to metaphorically cannibalize my child by claiming him as your own? Fine. But you will do it through ME, his MOTHER. You will not separate us. You will not discard me. And I’m going to lead us in hunting our friends and lovers until you, too, understand the agony of watching the world devour the person you love most.”

We can also reimagine Shauna’s ascension to Antler Queen as less of a dictatorial power grab and more of a natural consequence for Natalie defying the group’s wishes concerning Ben. During the trial, Taissa verbalizing the reality of Ben’s abandonment of Shauna (and by extension Their Child) finalized his transformation into their own Judas. Of course Shauna would be livid that Natalie granted Ben a merciful death behind their backs - not only did she disrespect the group’s wishes, but she disrespected the memory of Shauna’s son by denying him the justice that Shauna, his mother, felt they were both owed. Sentencing Natalie to become the new butcher isn’t a final twist of the knife so much as Shauna dragging Nat with her into the pain of seeing someone she loves (Jackie, Javi, the baby, and now Ben) being physically and ritualistically dehumanized. Cue the girls finally turning on Natalie and accepting Shauna as their new leader, brutality and all.

(This could also add a fascinating layer to Shauna’s actions in the Pit Girl Hunt. She’d be furious that Van was playing god, so to speak. Shauna had no control over whether Jackie or her son lived, but Van, once the most fervent of believers, thinks herself above the chaos of the Wilderness and wants to rig the cards? As far as Shauna is concerned, this is akin to spitting on her child’s grave. Of course the Antler Queen, the very personification of the savage hunger of the Wilderness, is going to insert herself and deny Van the power over life and death.)

Which, of course, brings us back to Jackie’s necklace as a final symbol of love from the team to their intended victim. The victim sustains the others physically and spiritually - her “sacrifice” is indicative of how much love and respect the team has for her (or for him, in Ben’s case). It’s brutal and horrifying, but so is the intensity of the love these girls have for each other, platonic or otherwise: JackieShauna, TaiVan, MistyNat, LottieLee, even the Martinez brothers (Travis had so much trouble expressing his love for Javi, but he also went to extreme and grotesque lengths to care for him). The deeper meaning of the necklace, however, comes in the form of Shauna commanding them to “never forget this” during the Pit Girl Feast: the implicit threat here is that nobody should forget that this meat was once their friend Mari. Consume Mari’s body, but do not, under any circumstances, consume her essence. The necklace is a final farewell to their victim, and a visual warning to the group against dehumanizing her into yet another deity for the cult without acknowledging the weight of her loss (“Here. Now nothing can hurt you”).

Not only is this SO much more in keeping with the original themes and thesis of the show re: the power of groupthink and the ferocity of girlhood, but it also serves as another facet of the story’s fascination with the perversion of love in the face of societal expectations. Shauna couldn’t comprehend, much less indulge in, her love for Jackie due to the heteronormativity of post-AIDS 90s America, so she took the next best thing in sleeping with Jeff. Shauna couldn’t properly love, nevermind mourn, her baby because he was immediately appropriated by Lottie’s cult, so she does the next best thing and accepts their fetishized worship on the condition of loyalty. In her final effort to shield her son from being devoured, Shauna becomes the Wilderness’s demented version of Mother Mary, the Queen of Heaven (“I love the saints, they’re all so tragic”).

This also brings us back to Yellowjackets’ meditations on religious fanaticism and the perversion of sacrificial love, not to mention a fabulous deconstruction of motherhood as this pure and gentle thing. Shauna’s reclamation of power in this scenario is a complete inversion of Catholicism’s Virgin Mary, who gave birth to a son free of original sin knowing that he would ultimately die for the salvation of the world. Shauna’s son was conceived in many layers of sin, and was posthumously deified by the masses as a justification for their savagery. So of course she becomes the final, most vicious Antler Queen of all. She is a mother defending her child from being totally consumed in the only way she can (“It’s you and me against the whole world, kid”). She is the embodiment of The Wilderness’s demand that the girls understand the weight of their loves and losses. And if upholding these roles means means slaughtering the girls one by one so that they, too, can comprehend all-consuming grief, then so be it.

To wrap up, I want to reiterate that I am SO here for Shauna’s downward spiral into a monstrous, villainous Antler Queen. The bones of this descent are all there, but repositioning it as Shauna reconciling her ferocious anger with that of The Wilderness, and finding a way for that anger to coexist with Lottie’s cult, would have made her transformation so much more satisfying, and ultimately a richer, more delicious exploration of how Yellowjackets conflates extreme horror and extreme devotion.

[wolfertinger]

both salem and wis are crashing out holy shit. honestly this is the final nail in the coffin and they had it coming. they’re such absolutely disgusting and vile people who project their own pathetic misery onto others. and i know they’re reading this as they write bible verse level paragraphs about how the critics are racist transphobes or some shit. and i know you’re reading this now, so let me throw in my two cents for you again:

salem, you’re horrible, you’re the racist transphobe here, you think that ���letting boobs hang out” cures dysphoria in transmen as well as telling them they should “embrace femininity”. you fetishize transfems/transwomen by always labeling them as “predators” and i don’t give a single blue FUCK that it’s adjacent to furries or some other lame excuse you have. all you see them as is sexual objects, a walking penis with boobs. the way you draw hitomi now is basically just pushing her towards a transphobic stereotype. you fetishize egyptian culture along with asian culture (and people of asian descent in general) and treat it like it’s a glitzy costume on characters, or just something else absolutely abhorrent. you’re a huge fucking liar about “wanting to support rape victims” when you protect a rapist, lied about being raped, lied about having a fucking MISCARRIAGE, and you goon to corrective rape. you excused someone drawing SNUFF PORN OF A 12 YEAR OLD, and constantly hang around MAPs/pedos, zoos, etc. you drawing feral pokemon and saying how much you wanna fuck them is also disgusting. you paint yourself as this “kinky freak” when all you’ve shown is that all you draw penis in vagina sex. you say you have dark kinks you don’t wanna share yet you hang out with those fucking freaks. you tried helping a 15 year old get away with drawing porn when you went under the puppychan name, and you STILL INTERACT WITH MINORS. and you say your art is getting better when it’s regressing again, your art is mid, it’s bland and it has no substance or value. it sucks.

final point about you salem, nobody is attacking you because you’re black and trans, but because of everything listed above. it’s not always about race, you fucking moron.

wis, you are disgusting, an absolute vile human being. you claim to not believe in nazi ideology anymore yet you STILL have behaviors and traits of someone who does. you called a disabled latino person “your dog under your shoe”, called them a faker, a groomer, AND a rapist when you defend their SELF-ADMITTED RAPIST. you try to use mental gymnastics to be racist towards sawyer (what the fuck even is the point of bending over backwards about if they’re germanic american). you misuse AAVE because you think you get the pass because you have a black boyfriend and you’re so close to saying the n word or a slur towards sawyer. you DEADNAMED sawyer too, you are an absolute joke, wis. you are vile, you’re constant rants just showed your true colors even more. you really need to back the fuck up and stop making stupid fucking decisions, same thing with salem.

both of you need to log off and never come back, even after you’ve reflected on your actions. nobody wants you here anyways.

.

[11queensupreme11]

First of all: Long Live the Queen! Hope you're doing great, your stories are a real delicacy... I first discovered your Tsunami fic when I was in my jjk era, but your Arsenic Blues woke up my inner pjo fan. So eager to see how this all unfold.

But for now, time for the Rankings!

My personnal RoR favorites based on the manga only:

1) Shiva--> Not in the harem, but I had to place him somehow. Was searching for a Shiva fic in the first place. Love the himbo energy. At least it's good to see he's one of the "sane" one in your story.

2) Anubis--> Same, feral himbo doggo energy, can we ask for more?

3) Beelzebub--> Noo don't unalive yourself Bb love u so pretty haha🥺

4) Hadès--> All Hail to the King, here for the BigBro energy

5) Poseidon--> Mytho/Pjo fan here, of course he's one of my favorite gods, but I'm not a fan of his RoR portrayal. He's pretty tho.

6) Apollon--> Too effeminate for my taste, I was rooting for Leonidas anyway.

7) Loki--> U ugly ass, stinky ass, nasty ass bi***

Now, the interesting part, the Ranking based on [Arsenic Blues], as for now, until chapter 31:

1) Beelie Bestie 🤗! It seems you will soon give us reasons to hate him, but for now he's my personal favorite. Hope he will overcome his current difficulties. Fun fact: I tried to translate "Beelie" in my language, tried to find an equivalent nickname, I found "Bébou" (pronounced beeboo, another way to say "baby"). That’s so cute!

2) Loki--> I know it's unlikely but... is this bad that I really want him to take Percy's virginity 😳? Your writing is soooo good, it made me root for him of all people. Everyone loves a good outsider, and since he doesn't want to kill Percy anymore, he climbs up the ranking.

3) Anubis--> Favorite from the manga, I was sooo happy to see that u included the doggo. Didn't appear yet, but I have really high hopes for him. Beware the Allmighty Knot!

4) Poseidon--> This is a dark fic, I understand the appeal, the taboo of the incestual relationship, but since he's already her father, her family, the one who has authority over her, I think he has an unfair advantage compared to the others. This is the reason he's kinda low ranked, but I really loved the relationship he built with our best girl. Embrace Fatherhood (but not too much😰)

5) Hadès--> Same here, too much authority over her, doesn't have the appeal of the gradually evolving relationship. Creepy old  uncle, hope your non-existent liver bursts. For now, he's the one who had the most "action" with Percy, so it seems unlikely that he will have her virginity as well.

6) Apollon--> Well, at least he's funny 😅. I'm sorry, but based on his pathetic simpy behavior, I have to give him the stamp of the "Whiny Little Bitch" of this story. Don't worry tho, there always have to be one in a fic, and he's not as bad as his Tsunami counterpart (Yuuta you nasty motherfucker I had faith in you-).

7) The Seventh--> Seeing the results of the poll, it seems I'm one of the only weirdos who voted for Ahura Mazda. Raa would be awesome too, but I have to say I was disturbed when I first saw that angry buff dude in the spin-off. For me, Raa was still that muscle mommy from the webtoon/manhwa Ennead (read Ennead. Ennead is good for your health). I just want the 7th to not be Cu Chulainn. I know I would still love it if you include him (cause ur writing is golden) but that's just a preference of mine.

I hope I'm understood. That's a big ass message, my thoughts are all over the place and my home country is known for having a shit level in english.

If you're interested I could do the same kind of ranking for Tsunami/Bloodflood. Have a great day, Peace!

A SHIVA LOVER OMG HIIIII

the anime did him sooooo good, he's so hot there, i'm glad they didn't fuck him up like LOOK AT HIM

the bonus chapter for chapter 91 is about shiva AND IM SO PISSED IT HASN'T BEEN TRANSLATED YET, I WANNA READ IT SO BAD I DON'T EVEN CARE IF ITS SUPER SHORT 😭😭

also, YES PLEASE you're free to give me your own bloodflood/tsunami rankings too!!!

[tempestgnostic]

The Werewolf: Archetype and Identity

Someday I’ll make a list of my alterhuman and otherhearted identities, but I’m not sure when that will be. For now, I’ll just talk about the the most prominent one: The Werewolf. I capitalize the name for both its significance and the fact that it’s an archetypal identity, so to speak. (I also use he/him throughout this essay, simply because I’m speaking of The Werewolf in relation to myself, and as myself.) I’m not a specific werewolf in any sense, and I’m not drawn from just one piece of folklore, or even one broad interpretation. It’s much bigger than that. Of course, explaining all the finer details would require an essay, and time is at a premium nowadays. Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, and tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief. Pay no attention to the appropriately-timed readmore.

Let’s look at an example of what I mean: the eponymous baron in Bisclavret is a specific werewolf, but he’s also one of many depictions of The Werewolf as a somewhat noble being who is wronged by others—in this case, his wife—as a consequence of his true nature. This “noble beast” interpretation can be contrasted with folk tales of feral werewolves who threaten villagers and fear neither torch nor blade. Werewolves aren’t solely monsters meant to inspire empathy or fear, however. They can also serve specific literary functions, often as symbols of broader concepts and experiences. The werewolf story can be used as a metaphor for a young person coming-of-age, a challenging tale of tangling with the darker aspects of human nature, or even as an exploration of queer identity and the liminal spaces we occupy. These are certainly not unique to werewolves, and the latter is especially common among other creatures embraced by the horror genre.

Each broad interpretation of The Werewolf feels to me like a part of my identity on some level. I’m the werewolf who feels guilty for the harm he’s done, who tries to resist his feral urges, but I’m also the one who embraces that side and indulges in it. I’m the werewolf who was born this way, the one who was blessed (or cursed) by some spirit or deity, but also the one who was bitten or scratched—forever changed out of cruelty, indifference, or even a dark perversion of love. The only bits of werewolf folklore I won’t engage with on some level are those from practices and cultures that are closed for me. They’re not mine to claim on any level—certainly not in any way that would be respectful.

Like so many in our community, my connection to The Werewolf is intricately intertwined with almost all other aspects of my identity. I’m genderqueer, yet I strictly use he/him pronouns. I have a beard—a thick one, at that—and a flat chest, yet I also identify myself as butch and sapphic. It’s been uniquely gender-affirming for me to have partners who identify as lesbians—to be fully seen and understood as butch. It would feel incredibly uncomfortable and even dysphoric for me to be with a straight woman. Even within queer spaces, at times I feel either gravely misunderstood or utterly invisible. I am, on some level, expected to conform, and my refusal to do so marks me at best as ‘confused,’ and at worst as a threat.

I embrace the androgyny in my voice and mannerisms, and I easily—often unintentionally—slip into different social presentations depending on who’s around me. (I’m also autistic, to no one’s surprise.) Code-switching comes naturally to me, likely as a result of having to cobble together adequate social skills over the course of a decade, but also as a matter of safety as a queer person who’s only ever lived in red states. The Werewolf is a liminal creature, existing in several different worlds at once and moving through them with varying levels of ability. I am no different—charming and quick to make friends when I know the social landscape, and terribly awkward and clumsy when I don’t.

In the interest of keeping this even remotely readable in one sitting, I’ll wrap this up here. The Werewolf can be a charismatic yet dangerous lover, a pitiful and wretched thing, a creature just beyond the veil of understanding, or even a kindred spirit. I am and have been all of these things, both in my external life and my mind’s inner world. I experience phantom and mental shifts, and I see myself in so many depictions of werewolves in media. This part of my identity plays a vital role for me in kink—though I’ll save the details for a properly 18+ post—in my relationship dynamics, in my pagan spirituality, and many other parts of my life. It fits neatly over my gender expression like a second skin and provides a backdrop for my social presence. I am The Werewolf As Archetype: a being representing liminality, transformation, and embracing authenticity—at any cost. It is a vital part of me, without which I would cease to be.

[mightyflamethrower]

One of the more bizarre aspects of living in today's world is that liberals have nearly infinite power to shape the information landscape, yet they still manage to often present themselves as totally cringe.

It's the same phenomenon you see in woke Hollywood, especially Disney these days. The people who create the Truman Show we live in have nearly infinite power to present their goals as attractive, but they still often fail spectacularly. 

It's no secret why this is true: the world they want to create is inherently disgusting, even when they slap a coat of paint on the image. They use nice words like "diversity," "compassion," "equity," "inclusion," and "love," but the feral grin often gives the game away. Think angry trans people, BLM, and the opening ceremony of the Olympics. These were all supposed to be good things to embrace, but the content is just repulsive to most of us. 

Identity politics is the core of the 'diversity" movement, and like all the things leftists like, most of us are at least mildly repulsed by it for obvious reasons. 

The Harris campaign is leaning especially heavily into identity politics, at least in how it is mobilizing its supporters to get excited for her candidacy. 

First there was "White Dudes for Harris," which sounds like the punchline to a joke. I thought it was a parody, but nope: it's real. 

No doubt liberals think this is a perfectly natural way to organize, but to the average person, it is, at best, cringy and, at worst, racist. 

To see the level of cringe, watch this bit from the "White Women for Harris" Zoom call. If it doesn't make you think J.D. Vance has a point about crazy cat ladies, something is wrong with you:

She is the perfect AWFL. It's cringe at its worst, and yet, for liberals, this is catnip. And because it is self-evidently good in their eyes they don't even understand that for many of us it is utterly repulsive. They cannot even imagine it. 

We shouldn't be angry about it. We should mock it. How many "white dudes" do you know who would be proud to wear a "White Dudes for Kamala" shirt? How many clips of that grating "influencer" could you stand? 

They are calling J.D. Vance "weird." And, to them, he is because he is actually quite normal. These people think the French Olympic opening show is normal, even high culture. 

The key to using this cringiness and racial segregation is not to yell about it, but to poke fun at it. People get defensive when you come off as angry (as I often am), but most also share your opinion that it is not attractive. Lean into the second and try to control your first impulse to outright denigrate it. 

I know that's hard because it is hard for me. But poking fun at this cringe gives people permission to poke fun at it. It will be self-defeating if we get people to mock it. 

[triviareads]

ARC Review of In Want of a Viscount by Lorraine Heath

Rating: 4.5/5 Heat Level: 3.5/5 Publication Date: February 20th

Premise:

Leonora Garrison has come to England in search of investors for her struggling family business. One night, she goes to the pleasure club with the intent of getting a kiss from a stranger, but she later learns the stranger is none of than Rook, the Viscount Wyeth. Neither of them intended for any more than one night together, but now Rook is not only a potential investor, but also a potential lover.

My review:

Lorraine Heath has done it again! This book is swoony, sexy, complete a hero who is fiercely in awe of the heroine and is completely and utterly obsessed with her right from the get-go.

Rook is a pretty uptight, repressed guy, and that's on purpose to distinguish himself from his absolute whore of a father (how repressed, believe me, I was surprised but deeply excited to find out), to the point where his horse is named a "Well-mannered", and he has regularly-scheduled freak-out sessions about how Leonora brings the *animal* out in him. He's adorable. Meanwhile, Leonora is vibing around (mostly) unaware of this because she's on a mission to save her family business, now headed by her useless brother, by getting investors for the typewriter she's invented all while getting zero credit for neither the invention nor her attempts to raise capital.

A super repressed hero does have his benefits, namely, Lorraine went all in on that repression and made some relatively innocuous moments WILDLY sexy. For example, Rook loves to kiss and has multiple rendezvous with Leonora where they just kiss, and I really appreciated that after reading a string of HR heroes who bend the heroine over within a couple chapters (no judgement, obviously). But the greatest moment that will forever live rent-free in my head is when Leonora lies about having a pebble in her foot, and Rook knows it's just an excuse to escape her mother AND YET he makes her sit, takes off her shoe and hands it to her so she can "check for pebbles" all while he is CARESSING her foot and quite frankly, that was the HOTTEST thing I've read in a long time.

I loved reading about Leonora's passion for machines and engineering skills— she's not just a businesswoman, but also an inventor. And on a romance level, it was lovely to read Rook understand what makes Leonora tick so early on and embrace it. He invites her to disassemble a roulette wheel at his club so she can understand its inner workings. He arranges for a private tour of Big Ben (and not just so he can make out with her on the clock tower).

There is a third-act breakup in this book; it's nothing super dramatic but it's a case of two people who are amazing together, but one of them feels that their goals are fundamentally incompatible with the other's lifestyle and that, for me, actually hit harder on an emotional level because it feels super realistic and plausible.

One last note: for those of you who complain about rakes in historical romances never facing the consequences of their actions... well, the rake in question didn't in this book either, but his son sure as hell did and handled it with great dignity.

The sex:

Okay first, the line "a couple can fuck without actually fucking" was uttered and I literally started applauding there. Bravo. Well done. Obviously, Lord Repression knows how to bring it, though not in a freaky way, but definitely in a thorough way.

And the sex itself is SO well-written— erotic, worshipful... it's a way for Leonora and Rook to escape the real world and lose themselves in one another (and the word "feral" is employed a few times :D ).

Overall:

I adored this book; the chemistry between Rook and Leonora was gorgeous, and the investor subplot as well as Rook's family situation kept me engaged throughout the book. I'd recommend this to literally any historical romance reader looking for a relatively simple, but well-executed love story.

Thank you to Avon and Harper Voyager and NetGalley for an advanced copy of this book in exchange for my review.

[silverthornwitchery]

Personal Graeco-Romano-Celtic syncretisms:

Artemis > Diana Nemorensis/Diana Artemisa > Druantia/Elen of the Ways/Arduinna. Does come to me in a fertility aspect as well influenced by Artemis of Ephesus.

Selene > Luna/Diana-Luna > Epona. Fills part of a Great Mother type role. I don't exactly know how The Earth Mother archetype plays into this or fits in my path exactly yet. Still figuring that part out. Maybe theorizing my own Earth Goddess Trinity? (Artemis > Gaia > Hera?, I don't have my celtic syncretism for that Trinity yet though)

Hekate > Trivia/Diana-Trivia > Adsaxona. Fills the archetype of Witch Queen in my path, as well as goddess of the Night. I feel she's in a way Syncretic with Nyx, though Nyx to me encompasses MANY deities.

Dionysus > Bacchus > Herne? Not much experience in this field, but I feel they both have a very liminal and primal energy. Very much share the same level of animalistic ferality, but also the same level of refined nature energy. Holds the role of Horned God in the aspect of Dusk.

Pan > Faunus > Dusios or Cernunnos. Fertility and Nature as a whole. Liminality as a whole. Argument could be made to syncretize him with Cernunnos as well and I personally do. I guess Cernunnos partially fills the role of Horned God as a whole? Which makes sense since Pan is often considered to be the "All", which in my path would translate to him being the Horned God in the aspect of Twilight as a whole. Dusios is his historic syncretism, as Dusios was a gaulish little known goat-deity or type of Spirits syncretized with Pan/Faunus.

Apollo > Apollo (lol) + Lucifer > Apollo (LOL)/Belenus/Lugh. Apollo has a lot of syncretisms and was worshipped by name in Greece, Rome, and Celtic Regions. Apollo to me is also Lucifer (both the Aradian Lucifer and Roman Lucifer, and he does embrace the Biblical Lucifer too), and has a lot more infernal syncretisms. I mostly worship him as representing the Sun and solar/dawn aspects of the Horned God, but he can also be VERY cthonic at times, especially looking at his form as Endovellicus. I feel like I have the most experience with Apollo's syncretisms than anyone else.

Hestia > Vesta > Brigid/Brigantia/Brigindo. Hearth Goddess, the eternal fire in one's soul. She doesn't seem to care which name she's worshipped under nor do I really feel a shift in energy based on name. I think that likely comes from her being the embodiment of the eternal flame, which to me is representative of the soul.

[valorxdrive]

Dark and inky tendrils are seized by an all encompassing light -- not for desire to banish, rather... to embrace. Kairi holds her rampaging hero against her chest, giving the boy a loving sizzle from their contrasting matters. He's so close to her appetizing heart, but it's not fear that makes it run fast...

He should know, by the way her nails gently weave through his hair.

"I got you, silly."

[ from @maregiis ]

Allowing chaos to become unbridled and unchained, reveling in this primal force to run rampant, grow and evolve. There was a sickeningly intoxicating rush that allowed him to turn his fields of battle into lifeless domains, into terraformed straits that only a natural disaster in human skin could rightfully reap. While that focus always managed careful aim, those listed as foes to Sora on the other hand..

They managed to find a taste of the crawling chaos returned to them, a rare flourish of horror that doesn't come by banishment by light.

Rather, it's through darkness does he devour, and newest breached heights were finding trouble in trying to retain that focus. Leveling his control to normal levels, to resist the tempting swing that each tendril managed to guide him towards, letting him have an innate sense for the many foes burgeoning within grim hearts or through the shadows of a larger collective, a true foe of his. Before this search made with instinct was truly about to begin.

It's the brightest light that managed to find him above all else, allowing her magnanimity to draw him into a hidden heaven etched into the legends of Sora. A realm where the light didn't incinerate or cast away, rather, there was such a selfish need to let light and darkness find itself weaving itself together, that initial taste being etched into their very beings, as the savory radiance made his shadowy form shudder momentarily in what looks like euphoria.

Did she realize just how delicious she looks to the most instinctive parts of Sora? To the most conscious? The way her heart holds vigil as irresistible light, a force that finds pride in providing a siren call to the poles that endlessly attracted each other in boundless chaos.

"......." His voice was distorted, woven into an ancient tongue that carelessly sounds feral above all else, the sensation of being wrapped in the protection of her arms capturing his attention, leaving him adjusted towards the sanctity of cloth and skin, that invisible beyond as the heightened pace of what rushes through her veins wasn't the sole factor that captured his attention.

Oh no, her Heart of Hearts was jubilant in that loving brand of mischief.

Within moments those dark hands would reach forth, sweeping along Kairi's sides, providing appreciation for her physical form as those hands swept across her sides, burning this beautiful frame into memory before a demanding clasp of those hands seized at her hips. Unanimous agreement within had tore away any semblance of doubt or second guesses.

His. She was all his.

Slithering forth would be the joined union of those tendrils, carefully worked around her shoulders, another smoothing through glimmering, fiery hair as the secured possessively around her back. The way his Heart could draw how her heart sings being wrapped in his clutches, it only made that insatiable nature bare its eagerness as obsidian lips part, revealing those sharp fangs as guttural noise is worked from his being before he approaches.

Those fangs would mercilessly seize her chest, 'puncturing skin', letting that pressure linger as the invisible boundary he bites into was into that very force of light instead of flesh, letting a physical aspect play with the metaphysical as he'd grip the princess's heart within his teeth, holding oh so careful in the way he savors this treasure, how countless heavens try to describe themselves as this sublime taste, the sort that makes a satisfied growl follow in his entire being.

Yet none could compare to his Sea, his Kairi. He'd greedily drink while keeping her pressed flush against his frame.

Those powerfully growing shadows continued to expand.

@maregiis

[the-wicked-science-of-love]

A gentle embrace from heaven

Originally posted April 26th

Alright, this is the single most self indulgent shit I've ever written in my entire life and I love it. A lot of sappy, gay, romantic fluff because I'm a delusional little yearner like that.

Now the warnings again which I post before every story. If Harley wasn't out of character enough in the last story this one will beat it by a landslide okay? I still write very literally and it's very mediocre, I want to improve my skills but my ideals have always been fun first. The last one is canon divergence, at this point I've been calling it my own little AU, where the angel takes on a much different path in life.

Finally, here is my funky cringe story.

Beau was occupying his bigger body form, moving quickly through the darkness propelled by his freakishly long arms. Grabbing onto pipes, protruding metal pieces, and corners to move himself forward. He was barreling his way toward the Doctor's lab, returning to their shared lair to continue to plot out the next phase of their plan. As soon as he enters the area they created for themselves, he puts himself right by Harley’s numerous bodies. Sitting beside a particular one with a green dyed torn sheet worn like a cloak, Beau closes his eyes and transfers to his new body.

They had made some considerable progress since starting their partnership, causing everyone to split up into their own factions fighting against each other for power was easy. Eliminating every one of them who was smart enough to try and gain control was hard, but for them it wasn't impossible. Mommy Longlegs was the first to fall, her stringy body being mistakenly caught in a crusher and taking her out of the picture. And any toys in the area were either captured for further testing, or destroyed and extracted for poppy gel. With her gone, their next target ws Catnap which should be easy since he curiously began to work alone.

Meanwhile Beau and Harley’s situational friendship evolved into that of a genuine one, as they got to talking more in the background of their plotting. They bonded over things they mutually enjoyed, finding they surprisingly still have a lot in common, as well as reminiscing on the past they spent together. This opened the door for deeper conversations, getting to know each other outside of surface level bonds. What their homes were like, what their schools were like, what their lives were like. Everything before and after, every difference, every similarity.

There's no telling when their affections evolved from platonic to romantic, eventually compliments and praise became flirts and intimate discussions. Eventually physical touch entered the picture, it started with the odd hug here and there. Then it became embraces, cuddling, hand holding, nuzzling, the list goes on. Harley used to be so abrasive about any form of touch, just a few years ago, only allowing handshakes he initiated. But now he was desperate for it, whenever they were in private together he became downright possessive over it. There was no reason to engage in such behaviors and yet they did, living vicariously through their robot forms even though they couldn't feel each other's touch.

As the monitor flickered to life on the robot, a row of jagged teeth appeared on its flat surface. Feral and wild like a carnivorous, hungry animal, opposite to the typical menacing eye that peers out over you in a judgemental squint. In addition to gaining a deeper meaning to the term partners, Beau has been given permission to take control of Harley's spare bodies. This is to keep his human form hidden from the public, as its purpose becomes a much more personal use. He moved deeper inside the lab, directly to its core, as he entered he called out for his beloved.

“Ley ley! I'm back from scouting the third level!! I think I found quite a few unmonitored entry points that we could use!! Even one that goes directly to Catnap’s lair!!”

Beau picked up a nearby clipboard and began jotting everything he found down on one page, and on another he began to draw a crude map.

“Oh! And I've taken the liberty of figuring out when the opposing rebel groups will and won't be in the area!!”

He fills up more and more pages with ideas and visuals for various plans of action, as he begins to get a bit worried about a lack of response.

“Lee!? Are you alright!? Are you there!?”

Nothing. Beau enters the back office area which they had made their personal home, and finds it empty. He goes back out into the main area and begins to search for clues.

“Harley! Don't make me send Yarnaby out to find y- oh wait a minute..”

He trails off in thought as it occurs to him his other half’s might still be occupied with a solo project he'd been working on in secret. He'd be finishing it today but needs as much time as possible to get the finishing touches right.

“Nevermind! I just now remembered! Come out when you're ready.”

Just as Beau begins to boot up one of Harley's computers for a classic game of 3D space pinball, when he hears footsteps approaching from behind.

“Ah there you are, pretty boy. Sorry for all the shouting but you remember the last time it… happened…”

As he turned to face him, there standing before him was Harley Sawyer, just as he was before. Strikingly as human as possible, as if nothing had ever happened in the years since Beau last saw his face. Beau in the robot loomed over him, shaking a little as he began to try and collect himself to speak.

“H…hooww did you do that? I mean I know how you did it, I showed you how, I even wrote it down for you but wh-”

“This was my secret project, it felt lonely being so robotic while you got to be a human. So I made up my mind and decided to join you, though I improved upon your original formula quite a bit.”

“I… oh my god… it's been so long since I've seen your face… I'm at a loss for words! I can't even begin to comprehend this- I… it's really you!”

Beau reached out a hand to touch him but stopped as he realized. “Wait, let me greet you human to human, like old times. Eh, you did restore connection to my body once you were done tinkering with it right?”

Harley just nods his head “I finished my work on your body as well, it should still be on the examination table.”

Beau immediately takes off before standing outside the door, and transferring his consciousness from a borrowed body to his own. Immediately lots of things felt odd, new to him now, but not completely unfamiliar. He pushed aside those feelings as he ran out the door back to Harley, stopping just in front of him now looking up into his eyes.

“My goodness… It's been so long. You don't know how much this means to me right now.. How much you mean to me.. Fuuuuck! I hate being unable to cry. Do you know how long I've waited? How I longed and wished to see you again, as you?”

“Your wish has been granted, I am here again. Though we could never be the same, we could never be as we were.”

“I don't care, I still love you. I have always loved you, I will always love you. Damn, that feels good to say out loud! But-”

“But?”

“Sorry, it's probably too much for the first time I've said that to you.”

“Nonsense, it's just the two of us now in our own space, no prying eyes so I don't mind. And besides, I love you too.”

Beau feels flustered, though his face can't really express it by becoming flush with red.

“So, what exactly did you do with my body?”

“I made it's capabilities match my own, now we will be able to feel the sensation of touch. I have placed a multitude of sensors beneath our skin, so we can feel again. It won't be as sensitive as before, I could only make so many between our bodies. But it's enough to at least feel something, as it connects wirelessly to the brain.”

Beau lifts a hand again and gently puts it up to Harley’s face, caressing his cheek softly as now he can feel sensations again. Harley leans into the touch, smiling with an unfamiliar joy. Not only did his invention work wonderfully, but it also felt so peaceful to him. Beau slowly lets go of his face, then grabs Harley's hand to hold, fingers interlocking together. The sensation is alien to them but the more they touch, the more it comes back to them. The stimulation gradually becomes as natural as their sight and hearing, all like it was before.

“You never cease to amaze me, my love. Your technology remains nothing short of incredible.”

“You can't expect anything less when you're in the presence of the best. Is there anything else you would like to try?”

“Oh hell yeah.”

Beau lets his hand go and swiftly pulls in Harley for a kiss, he has to stand up on his tippy toes and pull him down a little bit to make it work. The passion between them is electric, literally, the lights around them begin to blink and fizzle as Harley's hardware bursts with excitement. And the best part of them not having lungs, is they can kiss as many times as they'd like and not have to breathe. The only thing stopping their frantic making out was a light fixture on the ceiling bursting.

“Oops.” Harley says as he pulls away, holding Beau up by the hips. The other is in a daze of pure joy, unable to think about anything but the feeling of love he shares.

Eventually Beau stands himself up and speaks. “Holy shit, that was hot! Speaking of, have I ever told you how hot you are? I mean seriously you are really smokin’ out here.”

Harley snickers as he hears his partner be completely enamored with him, it's equally amusing as it is amazing to feel that love. “Flatter me.”

“Okay so you're really tall, which I didn't really care about before but now you're really strong. Which means you can pick my ass up, and toss me around! It's going to be really great for me, because I love being pinned to the wall. Also you're naturally just really hot, I mean have you seen your face? Gorgeous.”

“Your obsession with me is shocking yet never unwanted. And after everything I can truthfully say I would tell you the same, although a tad more dignified. You are mine, and mine alone you hear me? Nothing else gets to lay claim to you in any sort of way without my express permission you hear me?”

“Possessive are we? Not a problem. In fact, I think it's really hot how bossy you are. You kept me pining for a very long time no matter how mean or nasty you got. I promise to be very devoted to you.”

“Good, that's my little angel.”

“Hmm, angel? That's a new one. You typically aren't the type for creative pet names. Why the change?”

“I came up with it in the moment just now, it even has a slight meaning to it, if you’d like to hear it.”

“Yes, absolutely I would love to.”

Harley hesitates a bit before going off on a ramble, almost nervous to be doing this so outwardly. “You're so clever for coming up with the greater of this plan, and so swift when bringing death upon the things we've needed to take out. You're a sign from above for it all to end, though I believe in no gods. An angel from the heavens to reign chaos over this fractured order, an angel to deal a swift death to those whose time is overdue.”

Beau tilts his head and raises an eyebrow at him in curiosity. “I think you've been spending too much time with the Prototype, though I don't exactly hate the sentiment.”

“Going so long without mortal flesh can really change you in ways you never were before. Some of them are wanted, others, unwanted. I never considered a lot of things about you, about us, until I was stripped of myself and changed so much. My mind is clearer yet still so lost in a fog, I don't liken myself to a religious man. But our experiments, they get to talking a lot, about prophecies, about someone who will turn the tide in their favor.”

“The rebel groups are the same, only.. Poppy talks about it more than Doey and Dogday. Like father, like daughter, I suppose. And.. I honestly don't blame you for having your mind stray and actually start considering their holy bullshit. When it comes down to it, deep within ourselves, we're all men who fear mortality. I would be lying if I said I never wished for a higher power to help me through this, no matter if I believed in one or not. Guess that's one thing that never changed about me.”

Harley went quiet, in a bit of embarrassment that he's ever sincerely considered something even remotely religious. What has he become since being made into an experiment, how far has his integrity fallen? Even when steeped in self loathing, he noticed a double meaning to Beau’s words, something was bothering him.

“Is there something on your mind?” He asked after a bit of silence.

Beau felt ashamed and uncertain, but he knows better than to hide something from Harley. He slowly nods his head before speaking in a low tone. “Are we- are we sure we want to go through with taking out Catnap?”

Harley chuckles in disbelief, “Really? After all this time, all this effort spent carefully planning the elimination of our experiments you are getting cold feet?”

“It's.. it's different now than before, at the start of everything I couldn't care if I lived or died. I threw caution to wind because there wasn't anything left for me. But you, you opened up to me, we became friends again, and then we became something amazing. Killing Catnap will send the Prototype flying into a blind rage, but what if he gets smart and realizes that the resistances would never attack Catnap out of fear. What if when we blow up Safe Haven, Doey realizes that the Prototype couldn't have figured out where it was. What if they both catch onto us and attack us instead? The risks we're taking are too much, and I don't wanna lose you. I love you so much it hurts.”

“Listen to me, Beauregard. We. Are going to be. Fine. We are more intelligent than them by a landslide, we are stronger and have the manpower to boot, trust me when I say anything they throw at us at the last minute we will handle it. Do you understand me? We reign above them in every way, these toys will know their place at the bottom and that is where they will rot.”

Beau nods reluctantly, he still carries the weight of his doubts but tries to ignore them for Harley’s words. Harley notices and pulls him in close for an embrace, it's uncommon for him to initiate anything, but recognizes that this is a special case. He tilts his head up to look at him with one hand so they can make eye contact with each other, that way what he says next might actually stick with him.

“Be secure in knowing that we are in this together, you and I will do this together. There is nothing stopping us when we collaborate and handle this as a team. I love you too, Beau, we can do this.”

Beau leans into him and hums with content, this satisfies his answer, he enjoys the embrace for as long as possible. Harley places a peck on his head before resting his cheek there, and they enjoy this moment together.

[heyseihai]

If HH hadn't completely fallen down in my estimation because of ANE, I could even write a more elaborate scene about her and Seihai. I didn't like her before, but in ANE... daaaamn.

I'm no short of ideas in this matter though.

In BoS's first version where Seihai went to look for Ezarel on human world and he forces her to escape while fighting some templars (my first hint at the time for the future BoS plot, but discarded in rewrite), when she returns she's grounded for fleeing. It was a light punishment even, but Seihai was so p*ssed and still affected by Ez's death, that she punches HH and that's how she goes to prison.

I could even write a scene where HH visits her and as the conversation goes on, Seihai goes feral and beats her again countless times. And HH doesn't fight back. Seihai is "Lance level" of aggressive at first, but her hits become weaker as time passes, she's consumed by rage and hatred, drained by it, but still angry. Her body has no strenght anymore, but her mind is still burning, her soul.

HH even asks if she's better, Seihai rages again, but her hits are pathetic now and ironically, it's her body who hurts now. She couldn't feel it thanks to adrenaline, but now she's all sore and worse: when she insists on beating HH, her hits are so weak that it's Seihai who gets hurt now.

This makes Seihai even angrier, but if she can't hurt HH with her body, her brain is still 100% for a word fight or whatever! HH just smiles, sadly, while during her tantrum, Seihai screams that no fenghuang would ever now what a sacrifice meant. Not them, a bunch of weaklings that were so useless that they weren't even fit to be used as sacrifice. Killed first the dragons, then caused an aengel civil war, and as final blow killed her race to assure they remained as the only founder race left.

And they weren't able to do even that. She was still alive. Valkyon was no more, but Lance still lived, corrupted, but alive somewhere. Dragons would have a chance as long as they lived. Same for the daemons, thanks to Erika and Leiftan (they don't know about the primordial aengel yet).

-You'll never know what it means!

-I know... - HH says, still with that unbearable smile, a pitiful and merciful one. ffs, Seihai hated those eyes so much. - I know what it means now... I do know, Seihai!

HH and Seihai are kinda similar. Phoenixes are known for being reborn from the ashes, and Serpents are mostly known by ouroboros, a snake biting its own tail. Both represent the reocurrence of time in slightly different ways. Death and rebirth, endings and beginnings. Serpents and fenghuangs were doomed to never die, to never rest. They were condemned... to live. (and that's one of the things Seihai needs to learn in BoS. To find a reason to live, otherwise she'll keep persuing revenge, she'll keep dying... and living again, and the cycle goes on)

And HH felt her pain, and the pain of an entire race in those beatings, and she still felt the oppressive pain and rage around her, centuries of hatred embodied in Seihai that not even her body could handle.

Seihai keeps trying to hit her, but at some point HH can't stand see her hurting herself anymore and pulls her to an embrace. Seihai struggles, trying to hit her and get rid of a crying HH who still has quite a strenght to keep her there. But at some point Seihai's body gives up, and she cries as well. But she cries to hurt HH, it's her last resort, her poisonous tears mark HH's skin forever.

[robot-roadtrip-rants]

I was gonna write something but I’m a slow writer and you’re jonesing. So I’ll just post my ideas and hopefully write something at a later date. Full disclosure, I haven’t read Clonelord yet, but this is a very rare case where I kinda don't care so much about canon. I'm more attracted to the concept of a clone inheriting its originator's memories. How does that impact a person?

So Clonegrim escapes from Solemnace. There's an attack that disrupts the displays' stasis fields, and in the resulting chaos, he manages to get to a portal and get out. He ends up on a nothing planet in some Imperium backwater. The planet was prosperous centuries ago, but was targeted by a Waauugh! that it barely survived. Most of the planet is wasteland, with feral orks still lingering in the mountains. Every so often they grow enough to come out of the mountains and the few remaining people have to rally and fight them off. The planet is too unimportant and the ork raids are too small to ever attract Imperial attention. To make matters worse, the Administratum still expects the same level of tithes, so the planet is being squeezed for all its worth. Everything is falling apart.

The people who find Clonegrim are initially wary, but of course Clonegrim manages to charm his way into their homes. The orks are starting to raid again, and he leads the people to a stunning victory with few losses. After that, he's enthusiastically embraced. He's found a new home. Naturally, he starts to rebuild the planet.

Rebuilding the planet takes decades, in no small part because Clonegrim is moving verrry cautiously. He doesn't want to attract any attention from the Imperium, which is liable to kill him and purge the planet. So Clonegrim has plenty of time of time to think about who he is and where he wants his life to go.

He can't go back to Bile. That much is obvious. There's so many questions surrounding that betrayal, and Clonegrim knows he's never going to get any answers. But he can't stop thinking about it regardless. Why did his creator and teacher barter him off like a prized grox? Did he always think of Clonegrim in those terms? Did Clonegrim do something to piss him off? Was Bile more mercurial than Clonegrim realized? Did he ever really know the man? Bile's betrayal throws so much of Clonegrim's childhood and youth into question that it eats away at his former ambition to revive III Legion. He still likes the concept, but trying to plan it out inevitably sends his mind down intensely stressful, self-esteem destroying lines of thought. So that's not going to happen.

Chaos would embrace Clonegrim in an instant. Any of the gods would love to have another primarch at their beck and call. But Chaos repels Clonegrim. He's got the Slaaneshi memories of Fulgrim, after all, but lacks the Slaaneshi influence that makes those memories palatable. Moreover, he remembers Fulgrim's many betrayals. I'm not talking about the Imperium and the Emperor and whatnot, I'm talking about Vespasian begging Fulgrim to hold back, or the look on Ferrus's face when Fulgrim tried to recruit him. Chaos haunts Clonegrim's nightmares. He can't turn to Chaos.

There's some residual loyalty to the Imperium--the Emperor built his sons to bend the knee--but between his upbringing under Bile and the mess the Imperium has made of the planet that hosts him, Clonegrim is rather cynical about the Emperor's dream. He vividly remembers how the pressure to fight, to conquer, to succeed, tormented Fulgrim. The feeling that no matter how many wars he won, how many peaces negotiated, how many planets perfected, how many masterpieces he produced, he would never, ever, ever do enough. Be enough. All that, for this? This??? In the first couple of years, Clonegrim tries to tell himself that his new home must have fallen through the cracks, that the planet is an exception that proves the rule. But as more details trickle in from the rest of the galaxy, it becomes increasingly clear that this is normal. Fulgrim drove himself to the point of breaking, for this. Fuck that.

And then there's the million-throne question: who is Clonegrim? A second iteration of Fulgrim? A separate person who has inherited the memories of Fulgrim? Is he an inferior copy who will never reach the heights of Fulgrim's deeds (and this is why his creator betrayed him)? Is he a perfect copy damned to repeat Fulgrim's mistakes (and this is why his creator betrayed him)? Sometimes Clonegrim despises everything about Fulgrim; sometimes he weeps for hours thinking about him. But increasingly, everything Fulgrim feels like a burden. He remembers accomplishing great feats, but cannot take pride in them--he didn't do anything! He loves a man he has never met. And no matter where he goes in the galaxy, he will be defined by the person whose face he wears.

There's one thing that Clonegrim knows for certain: he loves his newfound home. So he's going to sit here and just focus on rebuilding it like Fulgrim rebuilt Chemos. And if he's subtle enough about it, does things slowly and quietly, surely no one will ever notice that this boring little backwater hosts a clone of a traitor primarch. Surely that won't ever happen. Surely not.

in a ‘i need more clone!fulgrim or im going to pass sway’ mood again